Free The Unloved by Jennifer Snyder

his eyes. I wondered how much of it was blood from beatings his dad had given to him and his mom. “So, how about that game of bowling? We’ll have to share a remote.”
    “I don’t mind sharing,” I said, dipping a cookie in my Pepsi.
    “I still think that’s freaking strange,” he said, nodding to my cup and shaking his head.
    “Milk is gross.”
    “So is that,” he muttered with a grimace, pointing.
    “Just put in the damn game, Nick.” I smiled.
    I dunked my cookie again and took another Pepsi-soaked bite. Hanging out with Nick might not have been such a bad idea.
     
     

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
     
    NICK
     
    I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath, then walked through the door to the Ingles three streets away from my house. It was the only place hiring besides a used bookstore and the ice cream shop Jules worked at, and I couldn’t picture myself working at either of those places. So Ingles it was.
    I stepped on the sensor in front of the automatic door and felt the cold air flow out and across my face. Didn’t these people know that summer was over now? It was the end of September for crying out loud. They could turn off the air conditioner now. Or at least turn it down.
    The application I’d picked up on the way home from school yesterday shook in my hand as I started toward the Customer Service area. I’d never had a job before; hell, I’d never even applied for a job before. This had been the first application I’d ever filled out. But it was time I got one. I felt like less of a man every time Jules said that she couldn’t hang out or had to get up early because she had to work.
    Hopefully that feeling was about to go away, for good.
    I held the application with both hands in front of my chest and drummed my fingers against the paper while I waited for the lady behind the counter to acknowledge me as she wrote something down.
    “Can I help you?” she asked in a monotone voice, glancing over the edge of her glasses at me with a glare.
    I swallowed hard. “I’d like to turn in this application I got yesterday.”
    She took it from my shaking fingers and I noticed her name tag said Betty. “What position are you looking for?”
    “I heard you had a stocking position available.”
    “Are you still in school?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” I answered.
    “Can you lift crates?” she asked and then glanced at my arms.
    “I sure can.”
    “When can you start?”
    My heart soared. “Right now, if you need me.”
    “How about tomorrow at four?” She wrote something on my paper.
    “I’ll be here,” I said, smiling, my heart pounding in my throat.
    “You’ll be given a white Ingles shirt upon arrival tomorrow. Wear some khaki pants and tennis shoes.”
    “Okay, that’s fine. Thank you.” I beamed. “I’ll come dressed and ready at four.”
    And that was it. I was dismissed with a wave of Betty’s hand. I walked back out the automatic door with an ear-to-ear grin on my face and nervous butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.
    I thought about what Jules would say to me once she found out I’d gotten a job on my way home. I thought about how much money I would make and how I’d save every red cent for a car. My smile never wavered from my face until I started down our street and my house came into view. Dad’s beat up car sat in the driveway right beside mom’s. My feet faltered and my heart dropped to my stomach like a rock.
    I wondered what the hell he was doing back and began walking again. I was nearly at our house when I heard yelling coming from inside. So. Much. Yelling. I bolted up the three front steps and through the front door so quickly I didn’t have time to think about what I was going to do once inside or what I would find.
    Mom lay sprawled out on the living room floor, her palms pushing her off the ground, the right side of her face swollen, her nose trickling blood. Dad hovered over her, continuing to yell. To insult her. To demean her. He’d obviously hit her more