“I guess … I—erm.”
“I—I—I,” he mimics, making me grind my molars so hard my jaw aches. “No wonder you’re failing. You can’t even string a coherent sentence together without sounding like an imbecile. What is it this time, son? Are the books written in Chinese? Are the teachers speaking too fast for your peanut brain to keep up? Tell me. What reason could you possibly have to be such an embarrassment? I mean, it’s not fucking Harvard now, is it?”
“I guess I just haven’t had much time to study with everything else going on,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Oh, I suppose it’s my fault for wanting to instill some work ethic in you. Or are you blaming your brother and sister for your stupidity? Excuse me for expecting my grown son to take on some responsibility and start learning the trade. I’m handing you your future on a silver platter, and all you have to do is sit in that classroom and not be a fuckup.”
I want to scream at him. Tell him I never asked for the future he’s shoving down my throat. That I never wanted to work for him and take over his stupid business. But, as usual, I keep my mouth shut and take the verbal lashing. It’s better than the alternative. When I don’t answer, he gives an exasperated sigh and sinks back into the cushions.
“So, what do you suggest we do about this? What do you need to graduate, son? Because there is no way in hell you are repeating senior year. I need you at work.”
“I guess it’d be nice to get a tutor or something.”
“You want me to fork out hundreds of dollars so someone can hold your hand and repeat what they taught you at school because you’re too dense to get it the first time? Does that sound about right?”
I glare at him then but force myself to swallow the smart-ass remark sitting at the tip of my tongue when I notice the mean glint in his eye. The amount of empties on the table let me know it wouldn’t be smart to challenge him, and, despite my father’s beliefs, I’m not an idiot.
“Tell you what,” my old man drawls, taking a generous sip while he looks at me like I’m a splattered bug on his freshly cleaned windshield. “I’ll pay for a tutor, but I need you to understand that laziness has consequences in this house. If there’s one thing I despise, it’s wasting the money I busted my ass to earn. So, let me show you what happens when you let this family down. Take off your shirt.”
“Dad, please,” I beg, my whole body tensing with apprehension when he pushes to his feet and calmly unbuckles his leather belt. My heart hammers against my rib cage as my palms begin to sweat.
“Now, Jake,” he shouts, making me jump. I blow out a jittery breath and grab the hem of my shirt before pulling it over my head.
“You know the drill.”
I meet his stony gaze and silently beg him not to do this, but I know it’s pointless. He never blinks while he waits for me to work up the courage to geton with it. To him, this is some kind of sick test. Proof that his offspring is man enough to take his deranged form of punishment without being reduced to a sniveling mess.
He doesn’t do this often, preferring his own fists over objects. I guess it’s more personal that way. But when he goes for the belt, I always try my best to get through it as quietly as possible. It’s over quicker if I don’t make a sound, and he always looks strangely proud afterward. I shuffle over to the sofa with heavy feet and lower myself to my knees. Fisting my shirt in my trembling hands, I close my eyes and prepare myself for the shock of the first lash.
Twenty-Four
Tessa
It’s the end of Spring Break, and Jake was given quality time off to enjoy himself for the first time in forever. Taking advantage of his free time, we’d spent most days holed up in my room, making love, watching mind-numbing movies, and simply talking for hours.
We hung out at the diner for wing night and took Anna and Jude to the movies, where we treated them to an ungodly amount of popcorn and candy. The way their eyes lit up like sparkly diamonds upon spotting the array of goodies cradled in our arms actually coaxed a genuine look of delight out of my otherwise sullen boyfriend.
We took a shopping trip to Barton Creek Square in Austin, where Megan and I had the time of our lives tearing through a variety of stores while the boys trudged after us and acted like a pair of disgruntled toddlers.
I’d exchanged several pleased glances with my friends over the past few days as we finally got to see a version of Jake we’d all dearly missed. Furthermore, Mr. Nelson surprised us all by granting Jake two afternoons a week off to seek tutoring. With his workload lightening, the ever-present tension in his shoulders slowly seemed to dissipate, and as a result, we were frequently treated to hisinfectious laughter. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the sound until I had the pleasure of hearing it again.
We’d spent a near-perfect afternoon at Carter’s house, where Megan and I painted each other’s toenails while Jake gave his friend yet another tedious guitar lesson. This went on until Megan’s tummy growled so loudly that I dragged the nail brush across three of her toes. Our hysterical laughter drew the boys' attention and prompted us to pool our money together for a round of fries and ice cream floats at Jackie’s. Jake, who didn’t trust his dad not to send his little brother to bed hungry, insisted on swinging by his house to bring Jude along. There’s a content smile on my face as I listen to Jake and Carter rib each other while we stroll down the sidewalk, but it’s quickly wiped away when a loud crash from within the Nelson residence startles our group into silence.
All the lightheartedness of the day seems to vanish in an instant when the jarring noise is immediately followed by a high-pitched scream. Jake snaps into action, and before we can react, he’s already darting across the front lawn.
“I’ll meet you guys at the diner. Just go ahead without me,” he calls over his shoulder just before he slips through the door, leaving us standing in the street. Another muffled bang has me staring at Carter and Megan with pleading eyes. The uncertainty and concern in their mirroring gazes tell me they’re just as torn while we silently contemplate the best way to help. No way am I leaving him to deal with whatever is going on behind those walls alone. I already carry enormous guilt for not having done more to end this sooner. I can tell by the angry expression taking over Carter’s features that he’s come to a similar conclusion. We’ve all turned a blind eye to the abuse happening under that roof long enough. It’s time to take a stand and end this madness once and for all.
Twenty-Five
Jake
The sight of my old man pinning my little brother against the wall while his frantic gaze darts around the room, desperately searching for someone to help him, is enough to send me into a blind rage. How dare that drunken piece of shit lay a hand on a helpless child?
I wasn’t much older than Jude when I first got a taste of his cruelty, and I accepted the way things are between us long ago. I’ve learned to deal with whatever he throws my way, whether that’s an endless string of insults or his fucking belt. It doesn’t matter to me. I’m the oldest. I can take a few licks and draw his attention until Anna and Jude are old enough to get away from his tyranny. But I will not stand by and watch him fuck up yet another one of his kids. I promised myself that this vicious cycle would not repeat itself as long as I drew breath, and I’ll uphold that promise or die trying.
An overwhelming anger I haven’t experienced for some time pulses through my veins. Before I know what I’m doing, I grab my father by the back of his shirt and roughly yank him off Jude. I watch in horror as he loses his footing and hits the floor hard, staring up at me with a mixture of stunned surprise and sick anticipation.Holy shit. I’m so dead.My chest rises rapidly, handsshaking with nerves, as I glance at Jude to make sure he’s unharmed before my focus shifts back to my old man. I back up a few steps when he slowly pushes to his feet and strategically place myself between him and my brother.
“Go to your room, Jude,” I order, not taking my eyes off Dad as I jerk my chin toward the doorway and the safety it provides. “Now,” I bark louder when my words don’t seem to penetrate. Jude jumps, his wide, fearful eyes snapping to mine as he wipes his runny nose on the back of his sleeve.
