Free RAGE by Kimberly A. Bettes Page A

her friends, I noticed that she spent a lot of time glancing at me. Usually, that meant that I was the subject of the conversation, and it was never good. But with her, I knew she wasn’t talking about me.
    I wondered and hoped if maybe she was imagining me asking her to the dance. Maybe she was imagining me all dressed up, walking into the gym holding hands, and asking her to dance. It seemed so unlikely that anyone would like me, but I was becoming more and more convinced that she did.

Chapter 13
     
    The rest of the day went smoothly, with the exception of the time in Biology when Dominic wiped his gloved hand across my face. It wouldn’t have been bad if we hadn’t been dissecting frogs. So now my cheek smelled like formaldehyde and dead frog. It was an easy fix, though. I washed well and could barely smell it after that. If that was all I had to go through today, I’d be happy with it.
    Everyone was excited. They always were on Fridays. Kids talked more and teachers taught less. There was energy in the air as everyone shared their plans for the weekend.
    As for me, I hated the weekends. It was two days of being stuck in the house with not only Travis, but his drinking buddies. As if he wasn’t bad enough by himself, he brought over other alcoholics who found humor in torturing me. Friday was the one day of the week I hated to see school end.
    After Mrs. Madison urged me once again to put some of my work in the art show, I returned to my locker for the final time that week. Inside, taped to the door, was another note from Carly.
    ‘Brian, sorry I didn’t make you smile this week. Don’t worry. I won’t forget over the weekend. I’ve got two days to think of a way. Do you still have my number? Call me if you need to talk. Or want to smile. See you on Monday.’ She signed it, and listed her phone number again.
    As I walked out of the school and headed home, I felt it. Tightness at the corners of my mouth. I almost smiled. It was as close as I’d been in years. I kept the feeling of happiness, or at least the closest thing I’ve ever experienced to happiness, until I walked through the front door of my house.
    “It’s about time you got your ass home,” Travis said. He was sitting on the couch, perched on the edge, elbows on his knees. On the coffee table was a large pile of change. He was counting it, and putting it in stacks before rolling it.
    I waited for him to start barking out his orders.
    “Get this fucking place cleaned up. I got people coming over tonight, and I don’t want it to look like a dump.”
    I looked around the room. The only making it look like a dump was Travis’ beer cans and bottles sitting around on tables, stacked in a window sill, and some were even lying on the floor. But I kept my mouth shut and set about cleaning the house. If he kept rolling his change and let me clean and go hide in my room, everything would be fine. But I had no doubt that it wouldn’t work that way. It never worked that way for me. There was always something else.
    As I cleaned, he continued to spit out commands and insults.
    “When my people get here, you’re to stay in your room, you hear me? I don’t want you running around the house. Nobody wants to see your ugly ass. Nobody wants to talk to you or hear a peep from you, you got that?” He looked at me with the usual scowl of disgust.
    I don’t know why he felt he had to tell me to hide in my room. Hadn’t he been paying attention? And if he thought I was so ugly, why was he coming into my room at night and doing those things to me? I kept my mouth shut, and cleaned. I tried to pretend he wasn’t there, but I couldn’t. I walked on eggshells around him. I always had. I felt his eyes on me from time to time, and it made my skin crawl.
    When I’d picked up all the beer cans and bottles, washed the dishes in the sink, swept and vacuumed, he looked around the living room and kitchen, inspecting my work.
    “If you need anything to eat, you better