Chapter 2Both My Parents, Neither My Home

"What did you just say?" Mom froze for a second, and her voice shot up so sharp it nearly split my eardrums.

I held back tears, the red welt from her slap still stinging across my face, and slowly turned to look at her.

"Getting hit every day, is that what you call lucky?"

"You wouldn't get hit if you didn't fight me on everything. You brought this on yourself."

But this time, I didn't cower the way I used to. I said each word slow and clear.

"Maybe I didn't bring this on myself. Maybe you just pick on whoever's weakest."

Mom's expression froze for a moment, then her eyes went red, like I'd just said something monstrous.

"Might as well just die, then," she shrieked, wailing like the world was ending.

The door banged open. Dad stormed in, his face ashen with rage, and came straight at me.

I couldn't stop myself from shaking.

He looked at me for two seconds, then kicked me to the ground without warning.

"Ah!"

I let out a scream as I slammed into the wall, my pained face reflected in the smooth tile.

A slipper came down again and again across my face.

"That'll teach you to talk back to your mother. You think raising you this far was easy? You cause trouble every single day."

Mom stood behind him with her arms crossed, satisfaction glinting in her eyes.

"Hit him harder. I've put up with enough these past few months. He thinks he can do whatever he wants just because he ended up in the hospital once.

"This isn't his house to be giving me attitude in."

My lip split open. Waves of dizziness rolled through me, and the only sound that cut through was the occasional burst of laughter.

Just beyond the wall, Preston and Carol were chatting. It wasn't that they didn't know I was being beaten. They just didn't care, because it had nothing to do with them.

My fingers curled slowly into fists. I closed my eyes and felt myself sinking.

Mom got me five days off school. The bruises on my face were too bad to hide.

On the third day, my friends came to see me.

Their faces froze for a second when the door opened. The worst of the wounds on my face had healed, but the bruises were still there, dark blue and purple.

A wave of humiliation washed over me. Before I could say anything, Mom brushed past me and led my friends inside.

"What are you standing there for? Go get your friends something to drink."

"Mom, can you let them..."

"Oh, now you're embarrassed?"

Mom laughed, like she'd caught me at something, and couldn't wait to start unloading on my friends.

"Since you're all good friends of Ronald's, I won't hide it from you. He's not sick. His father beat him. If I hadn't stepped in because I felt sorry for him, he wouldn't have half a life left in him."

My friends' eyes all snapped to me at once, full of pity, shock, and disbelief.

At school, I was the model student, good grades and good behavior. At home, I lived worse than a dog.

"He's only got himself to blame for it. We gave him everything good we had, and it still wasn't enough for him. He even curses out his own parents."

"Mom, stop..."

My head hung low, my voice breaking no matter how hard I tried to hold it steady.

Mom paused for a beat, then her voice climbed even higher.

"He's gotten so used to being treated like a little prince in this house that he won't even lift a finger when we ask. What's the point of raising a kid this ungrateful?"

Dad took the drinks out of my hands and set them down in front of my friends, all smiles.

"We're the only ones who could ever put up with him like this. Even his brother and sister know better than to cross him.

"Do you guys give in to him a lot at school too?"

Dad smiled at my friends, coaxing them to say something humiliating about me, anything he could use as proof of how hard my parents had it raising me.

I stood frozen, my whole body trembling.

My friends looked at me, torn, mouths open but no words coming out. A couple of them had eyes rimmed red, on the verge of tears.

But Mom kept pressing, practically gleeful.

"Go on, don't be scared. Tell me how petty he is. Tell me all the awful things he's done."

Still, nobody said a word.

My deskmate, Tyler Cooper, worked up the nerve to move closer and take my hand. He said quietly, "Come out and get some air with us. It's Freddy's birthday today. Come celebrate with everyone."

"He's not going anywhere. He's got dinner to cook."

Mom got to her feet, her face darkening. She hadn't gotten the answers she wanted, and her patience was already running out.

"It's getting late. You all should go."

"Ma'am, could you let Ronald go out and relax for a bit?"

Tyler took a deep breath and said it anyway.

Mom blinked, like she'd just heard a joke.

"Relax? What does he need to relax from? If anyone needs a break around here, it's us!"

The more she thought about it, the more wronged she felt, and she rounded on me.

"What is your friend implying? What suffering have you gone through in this house? What have we ever done to you? What have you been telling them?"

"We didn't mean it like that. We just wanted..."