People were officially watching us at that point, their phones locked and loaded as they took photos and texted. I’d been seen. No point in trying to dodge it.

He noticed too. “Looks like you’re a celebrity around here.”

I met his eyes, rolling mine. “You have no idea.”

“Seems like more of a reason to stick with you,” he said. Actually, Hamp, the opposite.

But I thought of Mrs. Prickett and her imminent phone call to my parents: “Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Brooks? Hi, Principal Prickett, here. I’m calling with some concern regarding Penny. She seems to be having trouble, how do I say it. . . re-emerging into her life after the accident. She refused to accompany a new student. Do you notice this type of behavior at home?”

I bit my lip, knowing my cover would be blown if I turned down this kid’s request. Mom would know that I wasn’t actually going on a date with Dean (some kid I made up. I didn’t even know a Dean. In fact, I think it’s on them for not catching that one). Dad would know that I wasn’t actually going to parties on a Friday night, but retreating quietly to my dark room to watch Netflix in my closet. Call me a freak, but I called it innovative.

Basically what I’m saying is, Hampton would ruin the facade I’d worked months to create.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll do it.”

“You sound like you’re going to your execution.”

“Please give me your phone before I change my mind.” He handed it to me. I put my number in his contacts, contemplating for only a second in putting in a fake number. That was one of Annie’s favorite tricks.

“Thank you.”

“I’d say anytime, but I think you know that I wouldn’t mean it.” My witty comeback surprised me; was I flirting?

“I figured that much, yeah,” Hampton said through a grin. “Thank you for saving me from major humiliation.”

I gripped my handlebars. “Do people ever tell you you’re dramatic?”

“Maybe.” He gave me this look, and I stared. He was good, I’ll admit it. Other than with Jess, it was the longest conversation I’d been in with someone my age in three months.

“You can’t kick me out!” I stood, gaping as my foster mother catapulted the only bag I owned from the steps of our foster house.

She winced guiltily as my bag landed with a thunk. The situation was not registering, and I looked up from the bottom of the steps. “It was either this or his explanation to the police,” she said, crossing her arms and glancing down the street to avoid my gaze. “Juvenile jail is not fun.”

I decided to reply with the most obvious question. “Where am I supposed to stay?”

“What about Lavender?”

I stopped, my heart beating fast. “This is the only place I’ve known.”

“I want you to stay. I do, but-”

“But what?” I interjected. “You cannot just kick me out! I’m sure that’s illegal, dammit!”

Hellen shook her head adamantly; her short, curly, blond hair barely moved out of its orderly position. I watched her step forward and speak lightly, “Lindsey, I love you like a daughter, and I’ve had you under my roof since you were a little girl. I know you’ll be fine.” She reached into her pocket, checking behind her and pulling out five twenty-dollar bills. I looked at her, hoping she’d understand the dilemma. A hundred dollars wouldn’t get me very far. Hellen shoved it into my hand and placed a finger to her lips. “You take care now. You know my number if you need help.” I wanted to tell her I would need help; I wanted her to know she was making a huge mistake. Hellen pinched my straight brown hair, softly touching the side of my bruised face.

I nodded, a tear dripping from the corner of my brown eyes. I bit my tongue to keep from either crying or screaming; I wasn’t sure which one. With tear stains and fading memories, I picked up my bag and walked away without a second glance.

~ 2 Days Earlier ~

“Lindsey!” My name was yelled from the living room, where the television drowned any lingering noise. “Make yourself useful and get me another beer,” he said without taking his eyes off the screen. No one was in the house but us. The kids were either at sleepovers, with Hellen to run errands, or playing in the backyard. With a huff, I dropped my mechanical pencil against the kitchen table. Algebra obviously had to take a break. Reaching into the fridge, I grasped a cold bottle of beer and strolled into the living room. My arm extended, but his eyes stayed glued to the screen. The reflection of blue and white danced on his dark eyes, and it seemed as if he noticed only the bottle’s presence. Beer stains imprinted his dirty yellow T-shirt that stretched over the protruding beer belly. Walter’s pathetic hand reached for the bottle, his intensive gaze not breaking attention. Right before his fingertips reached the sweaty bottle, I dropped it—with a smile.

The crashing sound startled him, anger flashing in his dark eyes by the time they settled on mine. “What the hell was that for?”

I shrugged, barely able to contain my smile. “Oops.” Walter stood abruptly, or as abruptly as his body allowed.

I fake gasped and placed a hand on my heart. “So you can stand!” I looked to the ceiling, shutting my eyes for effect. “Thank you, Lord, for this miracle.”

He glared and raised a challenging finger. “You better watch yourself.”

I raised my eyebrows, enjoying the moment of toying. I loved to watch fear in his eyes for once. “You better watch yourself.” I waved a hand over my body. “If you even raise a finger to me, you’ll probably be arrested.” I was bluffing, but only to scare him.

“You’re bluffing.”

I shrugged. “I don’t think you wanna test my knowledge.” He smiled and stepped forward. “I don’t think you wanna try me.” I shuddered as his toxic breath of cigarettes and alcohol fanned my face. He waved a hand to the ground, stepping around me and tossing over his shoulder, “Clean this up.”

~~~~~~~~

“Lindsey? Beer.”

I groaned to myself, fed up with the recent beer runs. “No,” I yelled out, returning to my book and squinting because of lack of light. Huffing, I looked up. My eyes hurt. I had only one lamp, and age was making it dim. Or the electric bill.

“Lindsey!”

I threw down my book and stormed down the white-carpeted stairs into the living room.

I looked square at him, giving a slight shake to my head. “Are you really that handicapped that you can’t even take one step into the kitchen and get yourself your own damn beer?”

He looked up, shocked by my outburst.

“You watch your tone.” “You’re not my father,” I said.

He stood with a vindictive smile. “Look, little lady, how would you even know what it’s like to have a father? Isn’t yours, oh I don’t know, dead?”

The anger that was brewing began to rise up my throat. I’d seen enough movies to know the position a father holds; even as I thought it, I knew it was stupid. “Shut. Up.”

He chuckled. “Oh, and where’s your mother?”

I shoved him. “Don’t you dare talk about my parents!”

He stopped laughing, his sick humor evaporating as he stumbled backwards. “You little-” I pushed him a second time, and he tripped backwards over the chair’s arm onto the floor. It was my turn to laugh while I stepped forward, towering above him.

“You don’t know a thing about my parents,” I started, watching him rise to his feet slowly and look me in the eyes, “so next time you want to open your mouth about them-” I was interrupted by a hard slap across my left cheek. My skin prickled from it, but I regained my composure enough to hold eye contact. A sick smile captured his face, the twinkle in his eyes reminding me he was in control. I weighed my options; he was a stronger man, and I was a 5’5” girl with a small frame. The only thing I knew I still had were my words, “You’re the most pathetic piece of shit I’ve ever seen.”

A small chuckle jumped in his throat, and his meaty hands quickly grasped my shoulders to shove me backwards. I felt my body sail to the ground, the impact scaring me more than it hurt. For that time, it was he who stood above me with all the power in the world. “I would suggest you don’t cross me again, and do as I say.”

He straightened his back, his lower spine letting out a crack as he made his way back to the sagging chair. I watched him fall back into it, fixing his gaze on the television. The door cracked open slowly then, three of the kids peeking in. They were old enough to gather information and come to the result that I wasn’t just choosing to sit on the ground. I pulled myself up, legs shaking, and walked down the hallway to the downstairs bathroom. I reached the mirror and turned my face, noticing the bright red mark that slightly outlined a handprint. I clenched my teeth, a tear dripping out of my eye and running down the same cheek. I quickly wiped at it, heavy adrenaline starting to pump through my veins. Marching my way into the kitchen, I quietly pulled a beer from the fridge. My audience of eight year olds now sat quietly on the staircase, watching my every move. I was never one to be a role model. I glided back into the room with the bottle in hand, stepping up to him.

Walter looked up, glancing at the beer. “That’s more like-”

I didn’t let him finish. I swung my arm to the top of his head and slammed the bottle of beer down. Glass exploded around him, beer dripping from the tips of his hair.

I shook my hand, ridding the beer from my hands. “There’s your beer.”

~~~~~~~~

“I want her out!” Walter screamed from downstairs, his voice traveling through the house. I was standing in my doorway from upstairs.

“I can’t just kick her out, Walter! This is her house!” Hellen’s exasperated tone rang from the living room, and I could almost imagine her makeup-less eyes growing wide.

“Hellen,” he started, voice dropping, “it’s me or her.” The once-loud voice turned into low murmuring, and I could no longer hear. I thought Hellen, the only mother I’d ever known, would’ve picked me over Walter.

I was wrong.

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