Keep Your Fingers Crossed Chapter 3

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        “That was so~o cool!!  I scored a goal on the first try!  Can you believe I got it on the first try?”

Emily's high ecstatic voice filters into the living room, crawling into my ears as I slowly shove one piece of popcorn in my mouth at a time.  Emily comes bounding into the living room, sweat, dirt, and pure joy covering her face.  “You should of been there!” she seemingly shouts, the hazel eyes that peer into me sparkling.

“Emily, take your voice down,” Jennifer instructs, throwing her jacket on to the back of the computer chair.  She levels her eyes on me for the second time today.

“Why are you eating popcorn before dinner?” she iquires.

“I got hungry,” I lie.

Her eyebrows raise.  “Really?”

I nod innocently.

“You got hungry?”  She tucks a curly caramel brown strand in behind her ear.

I continue on nodding, convincing myself that she's fooled.

“Alright then...Your loss.”

I shrug, and place another piece in my mouth.  Emily looks between us, then at me.  “You hate popcorn,” she says.

“So?”

“So why are you eating it if you don't like it?”

I shrug again, and shove another piece in my mouth.  I extend the bowl to her saying, “Want some?”

Taking a hand full, she crams the popcorn into her mouth, then takes the bowl from me.  She sticks her tongue out while pulling down on her lower eyelid.

I copy her.

“Hey, hey,” Jennifer says, “Stop that.”

I chuckle, and pick up the remote to flip through the channels.  Surfing our cable, I find the National Geographic channel and leave it, watching a documentary on whales for a few moments before Jennifer's worried voice breaks through.

“David.”

I look up.  “Hm?”

“We need to talk.”

“Oh.”  I throw the blankets from my shoulders and stand, stretching quickly.  I pull down my oversized white T-shirt, pulling it out from my light blue loose sweat pajama pants.  I follow her into the kitchen, and hop up on to the island.

“Your mother called.”  she says sternly, adding emphasis by raising her eyebrows.

“Why?”

“Doesn't matter.  She wants you to call her.  She's worried about you.”

She sounds pissed.

“Then let her worry,” I remark.  “ I don't want to talk to her.”

“David.  Just call her.  She just wants to hear from you.  You haven't spoken to her for what, a year now, and--”

“And it doesn't matter.  If she wants to talk to me so badly, she can call.  Not have me call her.”

 I hop off the island, my blood rising slowly. Whenever my mom Dr. Morgan is brought into any conversations, I tend to become angered by her, even though she's not in the room or near by.

“Now, you're just being stubborn.  The woman is in denial here,” Jennifer notes, as if it will change my mind.

  I narrow my eyes, and say in a slow hard tone, “Read.  My.  Lips.  I.  Am.  Not.  Going.  To.  Talk.  To.  That.  Woman.”

She presses her lips into a thin straight line, and crosses her arms over her chest tightly.  She glares.

“I'm not going to talk to her,” I insist.  “She should of thought of this before kicking me out.”

Jennifer doesn't speak.  She only glares.

“I never did anything wrong,” I continue, “I only did what I was told to do, as if disobeying your parents would be the penalty of death in a way.  I was a good little boy.”

She shakes her head.  “I'm not amused.”

“Still, I'm not calling her.”

“Just call your damn mother!” she snaps.

“No!  I don't want to talk to her!”

“David!  You're acting like an immature--”

“Look who's talking!” I retort.

You are a weak stubborn rotten-heart-ed fool.  You have no guts, no glory.  You are alone.  Dead.

 

 ...dead body found in a motel room...

 

“David,” she warns.  “Pick up that God damn phone and--”

“What are you gonna do?  Ground me?  Beat me?  You beat me, you lose Emily.”

There's smugness hiding beneath my tongue, rotting it from the inside out.

She closes her eyes, and inhales slowly.  “You're riding thin ice,” she tells me.

“Thin isn't enough for you.”

“Excuse me?”

I glare at her coldly, my heart slowly aching.  “Thin ice isn't enough for you.  You want it to break.  You want to walk away when it does, and watch me fall in.”

“What are you talking about?--”

“You want me out!” I holler.  “You, dad, and Emily can't stand me being around you all!  You all are sick of having me under your roof!  You even told dad that I was bad influence on Emily!”

“I only said that because I was worried!” she shouts.  “It's my job to worry about my daughter!”

“Don't even try!  I heard you!  You and dad both agreed that 'foster care' should be my new home!  You both agreed to put me in foster care, not tell me why, and just leave me!”

She stares.

I shake my head.  “You all are just sick.”

Whirling around, I storm up the steps towards my room.