Free Losing Romeo by A.J. Byrd Page A

call me if you don’t show up for class?”
    â€œYou do what you have to do,” I say with a smirk.
    â€œI have to do something. You have a court date now. You might have to go to juvenile hall. Have you thought about that? Once you’re in that system it’s all downhill.”
    â€œAt least I’ll be out of your hair. You can work all the hours your heart desires then.”
    He stares at me. “I think you need help. Professional help.”
    â€œCan we afford that?”
    His eyes narrow while a small vein begins to twitch on his right temple. He starts pacing. “I swear I don’t know what to do with you.”
    â€œI think we’ve already covered that.”
    â€œI don’t know how she did it. I don’t know how your mother put up with you.”
    The mere mention of my mother causes my heart to jump, but there’s an underlying insinuation that I was the reason behind her leaving. I can’t help gasping and step back at him. “It’s you,” I accused him. “It’s your fault she left. And you know what? I don’t blame her. I can’t stand you, either!” I grab a glass vase with dusty, fake flowers in it and hurl it at his head.
    He just barely ducks out of the way. “What the hell?” He charges toward me, jerking his hand back, but then it suspends in the air as if some invisible force is holding him back from slapping me into the middle of next week.
    â€œWhat? You want to hit me? Just like you used to hit Mom?”
    My words are like a weapon of mass destruction judging by the complete devastation across his face. He lowers his hand and takes another step back away from me.
    â€œI HATE YOU!” I scream and then take off running to my room, sobbing so hard that I can’t even see straight. My door slams like a bolt of thunder hitting the small apartment. No doubt everyone in the building heard it, but I don’t care. I lock the door and then hurl myself across the bed and cry into my pillow.

eleven
    Leon—99 Problems
    What the hell was I thinking?
    I pull in several deep breaths and then pace around in a circle. I have half a mind to storm back to Tyler’s bedroom and remove the hinges off that damn door. Who in the hell does she think she is talking to me like that? I’m trying to calm down, but it’s hard. I hate you! Those words are ringing in my head. Mainly because those are the exact same words Victoria shouted at me countless times.
    â€œWhat? You want to hit me? Just like you used to hit Mom?”
    She got that shit backwards. It was Victoria who used to do all the throwing and hitting. I don’t know what the hell she’s talking about. I was the one doing all the ducking and diving just like I was doing a few minutes ago. Tyler definitely has her mother’s temper.
    I know I need to try and finish this argument, but what else can I say? I’m not getting through to the girl. That’s just a fact. I know it may sound jacked up, but for the gazillionth time I found myself wishing that Tyler was a boy. Boys areeasier to deal with. They mess up, you just pop them on the back of the head one good time. When your little girl messes up, it’s like your heart is being scooped out of your chest with a jagged spoon.
    You insinuated that her mother left because of her. No. I didn’t. Yes, you did. My mind hit an instant replay button and I hear myself saying, “I don’t know how she did it. I don’t know how your mother put up with you.”
    After hearing that, I start groaning under my breath. Damn, I’m starting to wonder if I’m causing just as much psychological and emotional damage to the girl as her mother did and I’m the one who stuck around.
    Music suddenly blares from Tyler’s bedroom. It’s so loud it sounds like Jay-Z is performing in the apartment. A part of me wants to storm back there and demand that she turn that racket