Pissed Off Mom Quotes

Dad?" "Yeah?" "She the reason you’re pissed off all the time?" "Yeah." "She the reason you left mom?" "Yeah." "You love her?" "Yeah." There was a long pause. "Cool." "…yeah." "Dad?" "Jesus, Cage.  What?" "Does this mean I can have at Miranda?" Christ. "Yeah, you fuckin' hornball.  Have at it." "Cool.

And you are? (Xypher) Pissed off. You wrecked my car, shoved me around, and are a complete and utter dickhead! (Simone) Dear God, what a mouthful – your mom must have really wanted a son. Mind if I call you ‘Pissed’ for short? The rest of that is just too much to say every time I want your attention. (Xypher)

I was scared for her, which was kind of a new feeling for me because I never really pay that much attention to anyone. Aves was just so destroyed after New Year’s Eve that I couldn’t help myself. I was either stepping up as the role of overprotective big brother, or I’d developed an impossible crush and was pissed off that someone dared hurt my woman. I had no idea which it was. Turns out I was every bit as tangled up in our warped relationship as Avery and Aiden. Thanks a lot, moms. Prenatal yoga classes should be illegal.

There must have been a real mess on the tracks,’ Lorna said, ‘They shut down the F train line for a whole two hours for you. Two hours! And in rush hour!’ My final achievement. Man, I hoped Mom was getting that put on my gravestone. Here lies Charlotte Feldman. She pissed off commuters. A lot.

A pretty face had been damaged by acne scars and she wore and extra forty pounds on her frame like a threat. Her eyes were dull with anger disguised as apathy. If she kept on her current path, she'd grow into the type of person who fed her kids Doritos for breakfast and purchased angry bumper stickers with lots of exclamation points. But right now, she was just another in a long line of pissed-off small-town girls with a shitty outlook.

For a second, I stop fighting and think about what he's asking me. Did I live? I made a best friend. Lost another. Cried. Laughed. Lost my virginity. Gained a piece of magic, gave it away. Possibly changed a man's destiny. Drank beer. Slept in cheap motels. Got pissed off. Laughed some more. Escaped from the police and bounty hunters. Watched the sun set over the ocean. Had a soda with my sister. Saw my mom and dad as they are. Understood music. Had sex again, and it was pretty mind-blowing. Not that I'm keeping score. Okay, I'm keeping score. Played the bass. Went to a concert. Wandered around New Orleans. Freed the snow globes. Saved the universe.

that’s how I’ve come to picture Mom at the end: reaching as hard as her little body would stretch, trying to touch the blue sky, reaching for some peace. And getting it. If the grown-up version of me could have one chance at walking backwards into this story, part of me wishes I could sit down on the back pew with that pissed-off kid in his overly tight church clothes and Darkhawk attitude, and tell him: You think you’re giant but you are such a small speck in the screwed-up world. This is not about you.

Later, Bishop Crandall dropped by The house to give me a stern reprimand. He sat across the cluttered table, playing with a paper clip. 'Your parents are worries about you, Pattyn.' I was worried about myself. But I wasn't about to let him know it. "Really?" 'Really. What have you got to say for yourself? You've always been such a good girl.' Good girl. Sit. Stay. Fetch. Bristles rose up along my spine. "Define good." 'I don't appreciate your attitude, Pattyn. Fast and pray. Search your soul for the inequities in your life.' "Any inequity in my life began when I was born female. Can you fix that?" 'You'll have to fix that yourself, by concentrating on the things God expects of you.' His two-faced rhetoric was pissing me off. "You mean like kissing your ass?" He slammed his hand on the table. 'I will not listen to that sort of language. Apologize!' Behind me, I hear Mom gasp. But I was on a roll. "I'm sorry, Bishop I'm sorry I ever believed you might have something worthwhile to say.

Mom's already dead!" I yelled at him. "Who the hell do you think you're saving?" And he just gave me his Sad, Tired look. It's one of the three he's got, the other two being Pissed Off and Blised Out on ESPN.

I made it three days before the text messages started one afternoon while I was trying to finish warming up before our afternoon session. I had gotten to the LC later than usual and had gone straight to the training room, praising Jesus that I’d decided to change my clothes before leaving the diner once I’d seen what time it was and had remembered lunchtime traffic was a real thing. I was in the middle of stretching my hips when my phone beeped from where I’d left it on top of my bag. I took it out and snickered immediately at the message after taking my time with it. Jojo: WHAT THE FUCK JASMINE I didn’t need to ask what my brother was what-the-fucking over. It had only been a matter of time. It was really hard to keep a secret in my family, and the only reason why my mom and Ben—who was the only person other than her who knew—had kept their mouths closed was because they had both agreed it would be more fun to piss off my siblings by not saying anything and letting them find out the hard way I was going to be competing again. Life was all about the little things. So, I’d slipped my phone back into my bag and kept stretching, not bothering to respond because it would just make him more mad. Twenty minutes later, while I was still busy stretching, I pulled my phone out and wasn’t surprised more messages appeared. Jojo: WHY WOULD YOU NOT TELL ME Jojo: HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME Jojo: DID THE REST OF YOU KEEP THIS FROM ME Tali: What happened? What did she not tell you? Tali: OH MY GOD, Jasmine, did you get knocked up? Tali: I swear, if you got knocked up, I’m going to beat the hell out of you. We talked about contraception when you hit puberty. Sebastian: Jasmine’s pregnant? Rubes: She’s not pregnant. Rubes: What happened, Jojo? Jojo: MOM DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS Tali: Would you just tell us what you’re talking about? Jojo: JASMINE IS SKATING WITH IVAN LUKOV Jojo: And I found out by going on Picturegram. Someone at the rink posted a picture of them in one of the training rooms. They were doing lifts. Jojo: JASMINE I SWEAR TO GOD YOU BETTER EXPLAIN EVERYTHING RIGHT NOW Tali: ARE YOU KIDDING ME? IS THIS TRUE? Tali: JASMINE Tali: JASMINE Tali: JASMINE Jojo: I’m going on Lukov’s website right now to confirm this Rubes: I just called Mom but she isn’t answering the phone Tali: She knew about this. WHO ELSE KNEW? Sebastian: I didn’t. And quit texting Jas’s name over and over again. It’s annoying. She’s skating again. Good job, Jas. Happy for you. Jojo: ^^ You’re such a vibe kill Sebastian: No, I’m just not flipping my shit because she got a new partner. Jojo: SHE DIDN’T TELL US FIRST THO. What is the point of being related if we didn’t get the scoop before everybody else? Jojo: I FOUND OUT ON PICTUREGRAM Sebastian: She doesn’t like you. I wouldn’t tell you either. Tali: I can’t find anything about it online. Jojo: JASMINE Tali: JASMINE Jojo: JASMINE Tali: JASMINE Tali: Tell us everything or I’m coming over to Mom’s today. Sebastian: You’re annoying. Muting this until I get out of work. Jojo: Party pooper Tali: Party pooper Jojo: Jinx Tali: Jinx Sebastian: Annoying ... I typed out a reply, because knowing them, if I didn’t, the next time I looked at my phone, I’d have an endless column of JASMINE on there until they heard from me. That didn’t mean my response had to be what they wanted. Me: Who is Ivan Lukov?

Out of the wreck of our disfigured, misshapen selves, so darkened by shame and disgrace, indeed the Lord comes to us disguised as ourselves. And we don't grow into this—we just learn to pay better attention. The 'no matter whatness' of God dissolves the toxicity of shame and fills us with tender mercy. Favorable, finally, and called by name—by the one your mom uses when she's not pissed off.

So…you're not going to tell me what they mean? C'mon. What's the Hob? Why Forks?” When I stand, I switch to my blatantly rude, you're-an-idiot tone. This is the one that always pisses off my mom. To be sure he's not missing my insult this time, I also cross my arms and speak very slowly like I'm speaking to a toddler. “The Hob is from The Hunger Games books. It's the underground market where the characters trade food and information. Forks would be the town in Twilight. The setting. In boy-speak, Forks equals the planet Tatooine for Star Wars. You know—Anakin Skywalker's childhood home? Or are you not familiar with any global blockbusters? I suppose I could use Sesame Street or Pokémon for a reference—if it would help you understand better?” Bam. That should seal it. I couldn't have sounded more like a total bitch. He nods. “No, I've got it. My bedroom was Tatooine for all of third and fourth grade. Boy-speak…that's funny.” He laughs again, and it sounds warm and—and—not at all offended!

You know, I’m gonna marry a girl just to piss you off.” Mom laughed. “Then you’ll deserve estrogen-fuelled psychotic rants about shoes and cellulite.” “Isn’t that a little stereotypical?” “Of course it is,” Mom said nonchalantly. “Just like saying all gay men love cock and lesbians love to munch clams.

Things I Used to Get Hit For: Talking back. Being smart. Acting stupid. Not listening. Not answering the first time. Not doing what I’m told. Not doing it the second time I’m told. Running, jumping, yelling, laughing, falling down, skipping stairs, lying in the snow, rolling in the grass, playing in the dirt, walking in mud, not wiping my feet, not taking my shoes off. Sliding down the banister, acting like a wild Indian in the hallway. Making a mess and leaving it. Pissing my pants, just a little. Peeing the bed, hardly at all. Sleeping with a butter knife under my pillow. Shitting the bed because I was sick and it just ran out of me, but still my fault because I’m old enough to know better. Saying shit instead of crap or poop or number two. Not knowing better. Knowing something and doing it wrong anyway. Lying. Not confessing the truth even when I don’t know it. Telling white lies, even little ones, because fibbing isn’t fooling and not the least bit funny. Laughing at anything that’s not funny, especially cripples and retards. Covering up my white lies with more lies, black lies. Not coming the exact second I’m called. Getting out of bed too early, sometimes before the birds, and turning on the TV, which is one reason the picture tube died. Wearing out the cheap plastic hole on the channel selector by turning it so fast it sounds like a machine gun. Playing flip-and-catch with the TV’s volume button then losing it down the hole next to the radiator pipe. Vomiting. Gagging like I’m going to vomit. Saying puke instead of vomit. Throwing up anyplace but in the toilet or in a designated throw-up bucket. Using scissors on my hair. Cutting Kelly’s doll’s hair really short. Pinching Kelly. Punching Kelly even though she kicked me first. Tickling her too hard. Taking food without asking. Eating sugar from the sugar bowl. Not sharing. Not remembering to say please and thank you. Mumbling like an idiot. Using the emergency flashlight to read a comic book in bed because batteries don’t grow on trees. Splashing in puddles, even the puddles I don’t see until it’s too late. Giving my mother’s good rhinestone earrings to the teacher for Valentine’s Day. Splashing in the bathtub and getting the floor wet. Using the good towels. Leaving the good towels on the floor, though sometimes they fall all by themselves. Eating crackers in bed. Staining my shirt, tearing the knee in my pants, ruining my good clothes. Not changing into old clothes that don’t fit the minute I get home. Wasting food. Not eating everything on my plate. Hiding lumpy mashed potatoes and butternut squash and rubbery string beans or any food I don’t like under the vinyl seat cushions Mom bought for the wooden kitchen chairs. Leaving the butter dish out in summer and ruining the tablecloth. Making bubbles in my milk. Using a straw like a pee shooter. Throwing tooth picks at my sister. Wasting toothpicks and glue making junky little things that no one wants. School papers. Notes from the teacher. Report cards. Whispering in church. Sleeping in church. Notes from the assistant principal. Being late for anything. Walking out of Woolworth’s eating a candy bar I didn’t pay for. Riding my bike in the street. Leaving my bike out in the rain. Getting my bike stolen while visiting Grandpa Rudy at the hospital because I didn’t put a lock on it. Not washing my feet. Spitting. Getting a nosebleed in church. Embarrassing my mother in any way, anywhere, anytime, especially in public. Being a jerk. Acting shy. Being impolite. Forgetting what good manners are for. Being alive in all the wrong places with all the wrong people at all the wrong times.

Kelly said, “I knew. The moment I saw you standing on the porch when we came back from hunting Richard Collins. I knew.” “Knew what?” “That you were my mate.” I hung my head. “Mom always told me when it happened, I would know. She couldn’t explain how exactly, but she said it would be like this light. In my head and chest. The clouds would part and there would only be sun where there’d once been shadow.” I blinked rapidly against the sting in my eyes. He shifted in his seat. “And I guess it was like that. But I wasn’t in a position to do anything about it. I was different than I was before I left with my brothers and Gordo. Harder. Less trusting. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want you. I was too focused on trying to keep my family alive. I didn’t trust you, especially given all we’d been through. I told myself that I was pissed off about it because you were a stranger and you’d carved yourself a home in the hole we created when we left. It took me a long time to realize I was jealous too.” I looked back up at him. “You were?” He shrugged. “A little. I didn’t know what to make of you. You were always… there. There was this one day before the hunters came and tried to take over the town. It was just you and me. We were in the kitchen, and you said something that made me laugh. It took me a moment to realize I was the only one laughing, and when I stopped, you were staring at me like it was the first time you were seeing me. After that, you always found some reason to stand near me.

Do you think I felt capable of taking it all over after she fucking drowned? Do you think I felt capable of trying to pay all the bills and still scraping up enough money for coconut at the fucking Malibu Mart? Do you think I felt capable of holding each one of these guys as they woke up in the middle of the night remembering that they had essentially been orphaned? Do you think I wanted to drop out of high school so I could do it all? That I wanted to be twenty-five years old without a high school diploma?” Mick flinched as he heard this, and when Nina saw the pinched look on his face, it pissed her off. “I didn’t feel capable of any of that! But did that matter? Of course not. So I’ve gotten up every single day since Mom died—and even a lot of the days

I never wanted it to end. I wondered if it felt like this the first time. Seeing him. Really seeing him. He wiped his eyes. “You really want to know, don’t you.” “Yeah.” “Why?” I gave in. I couldn’t not. I reached over and put my hand on his knee. He tensed briefly but settled when I curled my fingers over his leg, just letting my hand rest there. I couldn’t look at him. I thought my face was on fire. He said, “That’s….” His voice broke. He cleared his throat. “After the hunters came, something shifted. Between us. I don’t know how or why exactly. You stopped being weird around me.” “Seems like I’ve picked that right up again.” He chuckled. “A little. It’s okay, though. It’s like… a beginning. You came to me one day. You were sweating. I remember thinking something bad had happened because you kept wringing your hands until I thought you were going to break your bones. I asked you what was wrong. And you know what you said? “Probably something stupid.” “You said that you didn’t think you could ever give up on me. That no matter how long it took, you would be there until I told you otherwise. That you weren’t going to push me for anything but you thought I should know that you had… intentions.” “Oh dear god,” I said in horror. “And that worked?” Kelly snorted, and I felt his hand on the back of mine. “Not quite. But what you said next did.” I looked over at him. “What did I say?” He was watching me with human eyes, and I thought I could love him. I saw how easy it could be. I didn’t, not yet, but oh, I wanted to. “You said you thought the world of me. That we’d been through so much and you couldn’t stand another day if I didn’t know that. You told me that you were a good wolf, a strong wolf, and if I’d only give you a chance, you’d make sure I’d never regret it.” I had to know. “Have you?” “No,” he whispered. “Not once. Not ever.” He looked away. “It was good between us. We took it slow. You smiled all the time. You brought me flowers once. Mom was pissed because you ripped them up from her flower bed and there were still roots and dirt hanging from the bottom, but you were so damn proud of yourself. You said it was romantic. And I believed you.” He plucked a blade of grass and held it in the palm of his hand. “There was something… I don’t know. Endless. About you and me.” He took my hand off his knee and turned it over. He set the blade of grass in my palm and closed his hand over mine. He looked toward the sky and the stars through the canopy of leaves. “We came here sometimes. Just the two of us. And you would pretend to know all the stars. You would make up stories that absolutely weren’t true, and I remember looking at you, thinking how wonderful it was to be by your side. And if we were lucky, there’d be—ah. Look. Again.” His voice was wet and soft, and it cracked me right down the middle. Fireflies rose around us, pulsing slowly. At first there were only two or three, but then more began to hang heavy in the air. They were yellow-green, and I wondered how this could be real. Here. Now. This moment. How I ever could have forgotten this. Forgotten him. It had to have been the strongest magic the world had ever known. That was the only way I’d have ever left his side. He reached out with his other hand, quick and light, and snatched a firefly out of the air. He was careful not to crush it. He leaned his head toward mine like he was about to tell me a great secret. Instead he opened his hand between us. The firefly lay near the bottom of his ring finger. Its shell was black with a stripe down the middle. It barely moved. “Just wait,” Kelly whispered. I did. It only took a moment. The firefly pulsed in his hand. “There it is,” he said. He pulled away and lifted his hand. The firefly took to its wings, lifting off and flying away. He stared after it. I only had eyes for him.

I’m sipping cranberry-and-ginger-ale punch and talking to Aunt D. about her divorce when Peter Kavinsky walks in wearing a hunter-green sweater with a button-down shirt underneath, carrying a Christmas tin. I almost choke on my punch. Kitty spots him when I do. “You came!” she cries. She runs right into his arms, and he puts down the cookie tin and picks her up and throws her around. When he sets her down, she takes him by the hand and over to the buffet table, where I’m busying myself rearranging the cookie plate. “Look what Peter brought,” she says, pushing him forward. He hands me the cookie tin. “Here. Fruitcake cookies my mom made.” “What are you doing here?” I whisper accusingly. “The kid invited me.” He jerks his head toward Kitty, who has conveniently run back over to the puppy. Josh is standing up now, looking over at us with a frown on his face. “We need to talk.” So now he wants to talk. Well, too late. “We don’t have anything to talk about.” Peter takes me by the elbow and I try to shake him off, but he won’t let go. He steers me into the kitchen. “I want you to make up an excuse to Kitty and leave,” I say. “And you can take your fruitcake cookies with you.” “First tell me why you’re so pissed at me.” “Because!” I burst out. “Everyone is saying how we had sex in the hot tub and I’m a slut and you don’t even care!” “I told the guys we didn’t!” “Did you? Did you tell them that all we did was kiss and that’s all we’ve ever done?” Peter hesitates, and I go on. “Or did you say, ‘Guys, we didn’t have sex in the hot tub,’ wink wink, nudge nudge.

I want to see what I will be getting later tonight.” I look at the nude-colored lace that sits under her belly button and shows off the cheeks of her ass. “You’re getting your hand, buddy.” She pats my chest. “I’m staying at my mom’s tonight, remember?” Fuck, I forgot about that. “Who made that stupid rule up?” “I don’t know,” she shrugs, shimmying her dress back over her hips. “You’re not leaving me tonight until I taste you; so you need to figure out how to make that happen, or your mom’s going to be pissed when I show up at her house, telling her that I need to eat her daughter’s p**sy before I go to bed or else I can’t sleep.” I watch her cheeks turn bright pink as she glares at me. “You wouldn’t dare.” “Oh, but wouldn’t I?” I smirk. I wouldn’t do that, exactly, but I would show up at her mom’s to get my nightly snack. “Trevor.” “Figure it out, babe.

Didn’t you ever notice that whatever you wanted or whatever you set out to do, Cora wanted to do it too?” Noah asked. “She wasn’t like that.” “She was, Mer. And it’s okay to admit it. One of the hardest things about Cora dying is that everyone wants to erase her—the real Cora. They talk about her as though she were perfect. She wasn’t. ‘Don’t talk ill of the dead,’ people say. But if we aren’t truthful about who our loved ones were, then we aren’t really remembering them. We’re creating someone who didn’t exist. Cora loved you. She loved me. But what she did was not okay. And I’m pissed off about it.” Mercedes reeled back, stunned. “Geez, Noah. Tell me how you really feel. She still deserves our compassion,” she rebuked. He nodded. “Everyone deserves compassion. And I know suicide isn’t always a conscious act. Most of the time it’s sheer desperation. It’s a moment of weakness that we can’t come back from. But regardless of illness or weakness, if we don’t own our actions and don’t demand that others own theirs, then what’s the point? We might as well give up now. We have to expect better of ourselves. We have to. I expect more of my patients, and when I expect more—lovingly, patiently—they tend to rise to that expectation. Maybe not all the way up, but they rise. They improve because I believe they can, and I believe they must. My mom was sick. But she didn’t try hard enough to get better. She found a way to cope—and that’s important—but she never varied from it. Life has to be more than coping. It has to be.” Mercedes nodded slowly, her eyes clinging to his impassioned face. She’d struck a nerve, and he wasn’t finished. “I know it’s not something we’re supposed to say. We’re supposed to be all-loving and all-compassionate all the time. But sometimes the things we aren’t supposed to say are the truths that keep us sane, that tether us to reality, that help us move the hell on! I know some of my colleagues would be shocked to hear it. But pressure—whether it’s the pressure of society, or the pressure of responsibility, or the pressure that comes with being loved and being needed—isn’t always a bad thing. You’ve heard the cliché about pressure and diamonds. It’s a cliché because it’s true. Pressure sometimes begets beautiful things.” Mercedes was silent, studying his handsome face, his tight shoulders, and his clenched fists. He was weary, that much was obvious, but he wasn’t wrong. “Begets?” she asked, a twinkle in her eye. He rolled his eyes. “You know damn well what beget means.” “In the Bible, beget means to give birth to. I wouldn’t mind giving birth to a diamond,” she mused. “You ruin all my best lectures.” There was silence from the kitchen. Silence was not good. “Gia?” Noah called. “What, Daddy?” she answered sweetly. “Are you pooping in your new princess panties?” “No. Poopin’ in box.” “What box?” His voice rose in horror. “Kitty box.” Noah was on his feet, racing toward the kitchen. Mercedes followed. Gia was naked—her Cinderella panties abandoned in the middle of the floor—and perched above the new litter box. “No!” Noah roared in horror, scooping her up and marching to the toilet. “Maybe it won’t be a turd, Noah. Maybe Gia will beget a diamond,” Mercedes chirped, trying not to laugh. “I blame you, Mer!” he called from the bathroom. “She was almost potty-trained, and now she wants to be a cat!

Kyle eased back in his chair, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. “This is an interesting situation, Jordo . . . What’s it worth to you to keep this information under wraps? Because I’m going to need some income when I get out of this place, and I hear that wine business of yours is really taking off.” “Get real. You owe me.” Kyle sat up, indignant at that. “For what?” Jordan folded her arms on the table. “Sophomore year. You took Mom’s car out of the garage in the middle of the night—without a license—to drive over to Amanda Carroll’s. Dad thought he heard a noise when you tried to sneak back in, so I distracted him by saying that I’d seen a strange person in the backyard. While he was looking out my bedroom window, you crept by and mouthed, ‘I owe you.’ Well, now I want to collect.” “That was seventeen years ago,” Kyle said. “I’m pretty sure there’s a statute of limitations on IOUs.” “I don’t recall hearing any disclaimers, expirations, or caveats at the time.” “I was a minor. The contract’s not valid.” “If you want to weasel your way out of this, I suppose that’s true.” Jordan waited, knowing she had him. Despite the impression one might get from the orange jumpsuit, her brother was quite honorable. And he always kept his word. “Fine,” he grumbled. “I finally get some dirt on you, Ms. Perfect, for the first time in thirty-three years, and it’s wasted.” He grinned. “Good thing that trip to Amanda Carroll’s was worth it, or I’d be pretty pissed about this.” Jordan made a face. Way too much information. “I’m hardly perfect. I’m just a lot better at not getting caught than you.” She took in their surroundings. “Maybe I should’ve given you a few pointers.” Kyle nodded approvingly. “Nice one.

Violet’s not getting out of our sight,” Arion adds. There’s a moment of just staring…like everyone is trying to silently argue. “No one naked in my car,” Mom states when I just stand in my spot, waiting on them to hurry through the push and pull. You really can tell how thick the air is when too many alphas are in the room at one time, but weirdly it never feels this way when it’s just the four of them. Unless punches are thrown. Then it gets a little heavier than normal. Arion pulls on his clothes, and threads whir in the air as I quickly fashion Emit a lopsided toga that lands on his body. Everyone’s gaze swings to him like it’s weird for him and normal for me to be in a toga. Awesome. Damien muffles a sound, Emit arches an eyebrow at me, and Arion remains rigid, staying close to me but never touching me. All of us squeezing into a car together while most of them hate each other…should be fun. The storm finally stops before we board the elevator, and it’s one of those super awkward elevator moments where no one is looking at anyone or saying anything, and everyone is trying to stay in-the-moment serious. We stop on the floor just under us, after the longest thirty-five seconds ever. The doors open, and two men glance around at Emit and I in our matching togas, even though his is the fitted sheet and riding up in some funny places. He looks like a caveman who accidentally bleached and shrank his wardrobe. I palm my face, embarrassed for him. The next couple of floors are super awkward with the addition of the two new, notably uncomfortable men. Worst seventy-nine seconds ever. Math doesn’t add up? Yeah. I’m upset about those extra nine seconds as well. Poor Emit has to duck out of the unusually small elevator, and the bottom of his ass cheek plays peek-a-boo on one side. Damien finally snorts, and even Mom struggles to keep a straight face. That really pisses her off. “You’re seeing him on an off day,” I tell the two guys, who stare at my red boots for a second. I feel the need to defend Emit a little, especially since I now know he overheard all that gibberish Tiara was saying… I can’t remember all I said, and it’s worrying me now that my mind has gone off on this stupid tangent. I trip over the hem of my toga, and Arion snags me before I hit the floor, righting me and showing his hands to my mother with a quick grin. “Can’t just let her fall,” he says unapologetically. “You’re going to have to learn to deal with that,” she bites out. She has a very good point. I don’t trip very often, but things and people usually knock me around a good bit of my life. The two guys look like they want to run, so I hurry to fix this. “Really, it’s a long story, but I swear Emit—the tallest one in the fitted-sheet-toga—generally wears pants…er…I guess you guys call them trousers over here. Anyway, we had some plane problems,” I carry on, and then realize I have to account for the fact we’re both missing clothing. “Then there was a fire that miraculously only burned our clothes, because Emit put all my flames out by smothering me with his body,” I state like that’s exactly what happened. Why do they look so scared? I’m not telling a scary lie. At this point, I’ve just made it worse, and fortunately Damien takes mercy, clamping his hand over my mouth as he starts steering me toward the door before I can make it…whatever comes after worse but before the worst. “Thank you,” sounds more like “Mmdi ooooo,” against his hand, but he gets the gist, as he grins. Mom makes a frustrated sound. “Another minute, and she’d be bragging about his penis size in quest to save his dignity. Did you really want to hear that?” Damien asks her, forcing me to groan against his hand.

For several seconds, we stand there staring each other down. Anger radiates off the both of us in waves, crackling like electricity. And then…he sort of staggers back. All his swagger, his bravado, crumbles away in a split second, just like that. “Why do we keep doing this? Yelling at each other like this?” I let out my breath in a huff. “Because you always piss me off, that’s why, acting all smug and superior.” “Yeah, and you always throw temper tantrums like some kind of spoiled brat. That’s just who we are. We’re not perfect.” He takes a deep, rattling breath. “But we’re good together, Jem.” He’s right. I know he is, but… “You say you love me, but you can’t even be bothered to tell me that you’re applying to a school in the same city as me? Not until the cat’s out the bag and everyone knows? What am I supposed to think, Ryder?” He rakes a hand through his hair. “Don’t you get it? I want you to follow your dreams. To do what you want to do with your life--not what your parents want, or what Nan wants, or what I want. I didn’t want to take that away from you. If you knew I was thinking about going to Columbia…” He shakes his head. “Then what? I’m having a hard time following your logic here.” He sighs, his enormous shoulders seeming to sag. “I didn’t want you to apply just because I’m going to be in New York. Or hell, even worse, not apply because I’m going to be there. I was going to tell you in person. And then the scout shows up at the game tonight, and what was I supposed to do? My mom is freaking out; you’re freaking out.” He throws his hands in the air in frustration. “I’ve totally fucked this up.” It hits me then, the truth of the situation. He made his decision about Columbia on his own, and he wanted me to be able to do the same. Of course. Hell, if it hadn’t been for the storm bringing us together like it did, I probably would have turned down NYU rather than risk going off to New York with him, and that’s the truth. I drop my gaze to the ground and take a deep breath, cursing myself for being such an idiot. “No, you haven’t,” I say at last, raising my eyes to meet his confused ones. “Haven’t what?” “Fucked it up.” I take a tentative step toward him. “I get it now. God, Ryder. Why do you have to be so perfect?” “Perfect? I’ve been in love with you for so long now, and I’ve never managed to get it right, not once.” I have to bite my lip to keep from grinning. “News flash--I think you’ve finally got it this time.

You're Miss F's boyfriend?" Danny looked up in disbelief, his gaze following Jim around the room. "You're real?" Tommy echoed the same surprise. "Dude, I thought she was some sad old lady like my mom, making up stories about her dead boyfriend." "Shut up, Tommy." Jim paused near her desk. "You talked about me? You said I'm your boyfriend?" "Dead boyfriend," Danny corrected. "Shut up." Natalie and Jim silenced the frightened vandals in unison. "We were reading Romeo and Juliet," she explained, trying to diminish the importance of the boys' nervous rambling that had revealed far more than she cared to. "Talking about love and tragedy." "They were like, from rival gangs," Tom informed Jim unnecessarily. "Enough, Tommy." The seventeen year-old chose now to remember something she'd taught in class? "These are the two boneheads who've been giving you grief?" Natalie nodded."I thought I'd handled it." Jim holstered his gun and pulled out his phone. "I don't know if I'm flattered to learn that you claimed to love me, or pissed off to hear that you think of us as a tragedy.

The majority of white people saw it and loved it, bringing this racist strongman to the White House. In doing so, they were endorsing a view of the world that I knew. It was the unreconstructed southern white view of history, a view where to be white meant to be both indignantly privileged and also angry and aggrieved, always demanding more. I was pissed off and disgusted with Mom and Dad and with all of the generations of our family who had never addressed slavery or Jim Crow. We’d invented the goddamn “alternative facts” with our myths about plantations, slavery, and the Civil War. It was an awful time to be white, but it was an even worse time to be Black or Mexican or Muslim or anyone else who suffered because of our whiteness.

You’re not even here for Mom. You’re here because you’re pissed off that I caught you and almost showed the world who you really are.

Apologize to her.” The sound of Ambrose’s voice, the unfiltered anger in it, makes all of us look up. His glare is firmly locked on my boyfriend. Brandon tries to play it off with a laugh and Ambrose leans forward, jaw hard as steel. “You see this suit I’m wearing?” he says in a deadly tone. “It’s nice. Very nice. My mom worked a double shift to get me this suit.” His eyes flicker to me briefly. “You couldn’t have come here tonight with a more beautiful girl if you fucking tried. Now, you apologize to her or I’m going to have to hit you in front of all these people. It’ll ruin my suit and trust me when I say, that will piss me off even more. So tell me, Brandon”—his head tips toward me—“am I going to mess up my suit tonight?

Sub-Zero I am a genteel wretch, not without gaiety or self-respect, a ‘ragamuffin top’, so to speak, dining daily off an eclectic tasters menu culled from hunter green dumpsters of Zagat 29s. It’s really not a bad life, a bit of an adventure too, like the time I went fishing for bream from a mokoro in the Okavanga Delta and a hippo nearly tipped my dugout because I inadvertently came between the mom and her calf. I pissed my pants and returned for a change of wardrobe and cocktails to my five star safari tent at Camp Moreni, a charming hideaway with a teak wardrobe, designer linens, woven rugs and en-suite bathroom. Lately, I’ve sought shelter in a Sub-Zero Pro 48 cardboard box which I’ve accented with freshly plucked Lilies of the Valley. Sure, it’s smaller than the GE 25 cubic but you can’t compare the stiffness of the corrugation, the A-fluting and 400# test strength. Hey, without our standards what are we?

Sub-Zero I am a genteel wretch, not without gaiety or self-respect, a ‘ragamuffin top’, so to speak,dining daily off an eclectic tasters menu culled from hunter green dumpsters of Zagat 29s. It’s really not a bad life, a bit of an adventure too, like the time I went fishing for bream from a mokoro in the Okavanga Delta and a hippo nearly tipped my dugout because I inadvertently came between the mom and her calf. I pissed my pants and returned for a change of wardrobe and cocktails to my five star safari tent at Camp Moreni,a charming hideaway with a teak wardrobe, designer linens, woven rugs and en-suite bathroom. Lately, I’ve sought shelter in a Sub-Zero cardboard box which I’ve accented with freshly plucked Lilies of the Valley. Sure, it’s smaller than the GE 25 cubic but you can’t compare the stiffness of the corrugation, the A-fluting and 400# test strength. Hey, without our standards what are we?

If only Tim had gone to the goddamn store like his mother had asked him, none of this would have happened. Mom had wanted some goddamn lettuce so she could make a goddamn salad for goddamn dinner tonight. Tim might not have been so pissed at her for getting upset with him because he'd stumbled into the house drunk last night and wandered into her bedroom where she was sleeping, and thrown up on her. Maybe if she hadn't taken a curtain rod to his hung-over body in the morning as he slept it off - in his own bed, mind you - he might have gone to the goddamn store and gotten her the goddamn lettuce she wanted. But no, to hell with her. People make mistakes. That didn't mean they should be bludgeoned to within an inch of their life, especially not with a goddamn curtain rod.

My dad called the cops and told them I stole his car.” I roll my eyes. “Your old man put you in this hellhole? On purpose?” “He thought it would teach me a lesson.” “Yeah,” I say. “The lesson is that your old man’s an asshole.” The dad should have taught his son how to dress better instead. “My mom’ll bail me out.” “You sure?” White Guy straightens. “She’s a lawyer, and my dad’s done this before. A few times. I think to piss off my mom and get her attention. They’re divorced.” I shake my head. White people.

You let her get away?” Caine demanded, forgetting Sam for the moment. “I didn’t let her get away. They were in the room with me. The girl was pissing me off so I smacked her. Then they disappeared. Gone.” Caine shot a murderous look at Diana. Diana said, “No. She was months away from turning fifteen. And, anyway, her little brother is four.” “Then how?” Caine furrowed his brow. “Can it be the power?” Diana shook her head. “I read Astrid again on the way here. She’s barely at two bars. No way. Two people teleporting?” The color drained from Caine’s face. “The retard?” “He’s autistic, he’s like in his own world,” Diana protested. “Did you read him?” “He’s a little autistic kid, why would I read him?” Caine turned to Sam. “What do you know about this?” He raised his hand, a threat. His face inches from Sam’s, he screamed, “What do you know?” “Well. I know that I enjoy seeing you scared, Caine.” The invisible fist sent Sam sprawling on his back. Diana, for the first time, looked worried. Her usual smirk was gone. “The only time we saw teleporting was Taylor up at Coates. And she could only go across a room. She was a three. If this kid can teleport himself and his sister through walls…” “He could be a four,” Caine said softly. “Yes,” Diana said. “He could be a four.” When she said the word “four,” she looked straight at Sam. “He could be even more.” Caine said, “Orc, Howard: lock Sam up, tie him down so he can’t get that Mylar off his hands, then get Freddie to help you. He’s done plastering before, he knows what to do. Get whatever you need from the hardware store.” He grabbed Drake by the shoulder. “Find Astrid and that kid.” “How am I going to catch them if they can just zap out whenever they want?” “I didn’t say catch them,” Caine said. “Take a gun, Drake. Shoot them both before they see you.” Sam charged at Caine and plowed into him before he could react. The momentum carried them both to the floor. Sam headbutted Caine in the nose. Caine was slow to recover, but Drake and Orc swarmed over Sam and kicked him off Caine. Sam groaned in pain. “You can’t kill people, Caine. Are you crazy?” “You hurt my nose,” Caine said. “You’re screwed up, Caine. You need help. You’re insane.” “Yeah,” Caine said, touching his nose and wincing at the pain. “That’s what they keep telling me. It’s what Nurse Temple…Mom…told me. Just be glad I need to keep you around, Sam. I need to see you blink out, figure out how to keep it from happening to me. Orc, take this hero away. Drake: go.” “If you hurt them, Drake, I’ll hunt you down and kill you,” Sam shouted. “Don’t waste your breath,” Diana said to him. “You don’t know Drake. Your girlfriend’s as good as dead.

When I got closer I heard Brandon’s warm animated voice and slowed, trying to hear whatever he was telling our son. I was already smiling to myself when I peeked around the slightly ajar door, he was talking to him about one of his surfing days. No … he was talking to him about one of Chase’s surfing days. And he had the scrapbook of Chase’s life on the dresser below them, pointing to one of the pictures. A soft gasp escaped my chest and I tried to slow my breathing so I could continue to listen without Brandon knowing I was here. “… he was always doing crazy stuff like that, it’s why everyone loved him, but it got him in trouble more times than not. No one else would have continued to surf after that, and we were all trying to get him to come in. Brad and I rode out to force him to, since he had this huge cut on his eyebrow from where that guy punched him, but by the time we got out there he was already catching another wave and riding it in. I swear he knew how to piss us off too, because those guys weren’t happy we started coming back out. Your dad could out-surf those guys, and I could fight them, but just a warning son, don’t ever try to fight someone while on your surfboard out in the ocean. It doesn’t really work out for anyone, and you look stupid trying to throw punches while treading water. We ended up laughing too hard and inviting them to the party that night, calling a truce.” Brandon flipped to the next page and chuckled lightly, pointing at one of the pictures again, “Like I said, he was crazy and always doing stupid crap,” flipping the page again he pointed to one and said softly, “but your mom changed that.” I froze and tilted my head in even further. “The day I met your mom, I knew she would be in my life forever. There was something about her and I knew I was already falling in love with her that first day. She made you want to be better, to attempt to be worthy of her love. Unfortunately your dad felt the same way; no one understood why he drastically changed, except for me. Even though she was with me, he stopped drinking, stopped sleeping with other girls, it’s like she made him instantly mature into the guy he eventually wanted to be so he could have an opportunity with her. I was always afraid I’d lose her to him someday, it’s like I knew it was a matter of when, not if. But your mom was different, I’d dated plenty of girls, but I hadn’t really cared if they were there or not. It was just someone to try to fill the ache of losing my dad. So when I met her and realized my feelings, I fought to keep her as long as I could. Don’t tell your momma, but Chase and I were constantly fighting over her when she wasn’t around. Hell, we even fought over her when she was around. We knew either of us could have any girl we wanted, but we both only wanted Harper. So of course, being us, words were used and fists flew whenever we were alone. I didn’t tell her this, but I already knew what had happened with your dad before she told me. When I got home from break, and Chase never bothered me again, I knew something had happened. I just didn’t know what yet. But you know what little man? I can’t even be mad about it anymore, because if it hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t be here right now.” He gently kissed our three month old son who was completely enthralled in his stories and pointed to the last picture in the book. “And he loved you and your mom, so much. I’ll always remind you of that, but I wish you could have met him.” I

Wait. Your mom is Victoria Lane!?” Lucky asked. Holy shit! That’s where he knew her from. That’s why her lips looked so familiar. That’s why he’d felt like he’d looked into her eyes before. He had. “Yep.” “You were in a perfume or clothing ad with her when you were a teenager!” Lucky had ripped out every ad he’d found in magazines his senior year. He’d never particularly thought that Victoria was that hot, but when he’d seen her daughter beside her, Lucky had been one smitten kitten. In fact, Deanna had been his first and only crush. He just hadn’t known it was her. Deanna didn’t share his enthusiasm. “Yeah, I was.” “I knew you looked familiar. God, I was obsessed with you. I stole every ad I could find and I would fold it in half and pin it up on my wall so only you were showing.” Her head spun around, and she looked…mad. “No, you didn’t.” Oh well. He wasn’t about to try to dig himself out of this one. His only move was to dig in deeper. “Yes. I did. I thought you were so damn hot—” Her hand rose defensively. “Lucky, stop. I know that’s not true—” “You don’t know shit,” he snapped back, still feeling the adrenaline from earlier. His tone made him cringe, so he softened his voice. “Sorry, but you don’t.” “Whatever.” She crossed her arms in front of her. Lucky saw it for what it was: a protective stance. But he’d be damned if she was going to feel she had to protect herself from him. He would never hurt her. “Look, I’m sorry if it pisses you off that I had hundreds of pictures of you all over my wall and I used to jack it to you morning and night—” “What!?” she screeched. Glancing over, he saw the horror in her beautiful expressive eyes, but her lips were curled a little at the edges and not set in a grim expression. So he hadn’t pissed her off that bad by his oh-so-shocking admission. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I don’t think there was a red-blooded teenage boy who wasn’t jerking it to those pictures.” He’d said it to lighten the mood, but he was getting the same feeling he’d gotten when he’d seen Casey heading towards Deanna on the dance floor. One word filled his mind. Mine. Deanna let out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, maybe, but it wasn’t me they were looking at.” Lucky took his eyes off the road just long enough to see in the set of her jaw and her protective body language that she wasn’t joking. She really believed that she wasn’t hot. Or beautiful. And her mom was. Then it hit him. She’d grown up the daughter of a supermodel and a professional baseball player. Maybe living in the shadows all of those years had caused her not to see herself for who she really was. It was time to shed some light on that subject. Instead of arguing with her, Lucky decided to enlighten her. “My favorite was the one with you wearing a white tank top and jeans. Just a tiny sliver of your stomach was showing, and I used to imagine running my finger along that area and how soft your skin would feel. I loved how that one piece of your hair fell over your shoulder. Your eyes were looking right in the camera, and your lips were so full and… I won’t even tell you what I pictured you doing with them.” Deanna sounded breathless as she said, “Oh.” “Do you believe me now?” he asked as he kept his eyes on the winding, dark highway illuminated only by his headlights. “Yes,” she said quietly. Then he felt her turn towards him, and her voice sounded lighter and hell of a lot sassier as she asked, “You know I was only thirteen when I shot that, right?” “You were what!?” Lucky’s voice rose in shock, and it took everything in his power not to swerve the truck into the other lane. Now, he was the one who didn’t believe her. “No way. There is no way you were thirteen!” “Yep. I really was. Whatever you were picturing me doi—” “Stop!” If Lucky could’ve, he would have covered his ears and said, “Na-na-na-na-na! I’m not listening to you.

Looks like things are good,” Day said casually. “I’m happy for you.” “Things were better than good, baby. My mom was so happy to see me. She made me raisin bread, and she even popped me in the head a few times when I told her I’d pissed you off. She wants to meet you real soon, sweetheart,” God said breathlessly around all his excitement. “I’m looking forward to it,” Day said climbing in bed. “Oh come on, Leo, you can’t still be mad at me.” God huffed. When Day still didn’t speak, God threw his hands up in the air. “Okay, fine. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I’m sorry all right. There. Does that make you happy now, or do I have to go out and by you some fuckin’ flowers and candy and shit? Stop acting like this. I had a good day, babe, and I want to fuck you.” God dropped his voice low. “I have a headache and don’t feel like having sex…since you’re dating a bitch. Good night, Cashel.” Day flicked the switch on the small lamp by his side of the bed putting them in total darkness. Day pulled the covers up on him and turned his back to God and willed himself to go to sleep. Day woke up before five a.m. and was pissed when he couldn’t go back to sleep. Although his back was to him, he could tell God was awake too by the way he was breathing. Day finally got sick of lying there and got out of bed. He slid his feet in his leather slippers and went downstairs. Day got the paper off the front step and went to the kitchen for coffee. He was in the den watching Food Network, sipping his second cup when he had an urge to go back upstairs and climb back in bed with God. This was bullshit. This was a stupid fight they were having and he wanted it over. Day was sure there would be real shit for them to fight about in the future, they didn’t need to waste time on crap like this. But still…Day didn’t move.

sorry, Mr. McCoy,” Sara Doolan sing-songed, sounding not the least bit sorry. “But, see, I broke curfew last night and my mom says I’m grounded tonight? Like, my boyfriend’s car broke down and we couldn’t get home? And now my mom’s so pissed off? And she’s grounded me?

My mom won’t let him.” I sighed. “She’s starting to really get on my nerves, too.” Krysta’s eyes widened. “Why?” “Ever since Rose Marie came home, it’s been Rose Marie this or baby that. You should see the money my mom has spent. She already bought a crib and they’re painting dinosaurs all over my bedroom. They didn’t even ask me.” “I don’t think it’s your bedroom anymore, Sophie,” Krysta reminded me. AJ leaned forward and narrowed her gaze. “You sound jealous, Sophie.” “Jealous?” I snapped, ready to tear off AJ’s head. “How could you say that, AJ? Why would you think I’m jealous? They’ve just thrown their lives down the toilet and you think I’m jealous?” AJ leaned back and shrugged. “You don’t have to get so defensive. It was just an observation.” “I’m not jealous.” The pitch in my voice rose. “It just pisses me off that Rose Marie screws up and she gets the royal treatment. Mom wouldn’t do that for me.” “Yep.” AJ waved her finger at me. “That’s jealousy.” “You

I couldn't help but nod agreement to this observation: The survival of the West depends on Americans reaffirming their Western identity and Westerners accepting their civilization as unique not universal and uniting to renew and preserve it against challenges from non-Western societies.  Of course, he lost me on the very next sentence.  Avoidance of a global war of civilizations depends on world leaders accepting and cooperating to maintain the multicivilizational character of global politics. "What crap."  I felt like I was speaking directly to him.  "Avoid a global war my ass.  We're in a fucking global war, you moron." I kept reading, fascinated someone so smart could understand so clearly that hate, envy, and mistrust dominate not just the lives of people but of civilizations as well, and yet avoid the obvious conclusion that survival demands getting rid of those people who hate, envy, and mistrust you.  Academics really do live in ivory towers.  If this Huntington guy had spent just a few days in my world, he'd have come to more sensible conclusions. By sunset, I'd struggled through about a third of the book.  That and finding a secluded bush where I could piss after drinking a whole thermos of coffee was all I accomplished.  The only other park visitors that day were women with baby strollers.  I watched them all anyway.  Maybe Rebecca Goldstein was smart enough to pass herself off as a mom walking her kid.  But none of them headed down the path toward the footbridge.  Finally I caught the bus back to my apartment, fixed myself a sandwich and drank a beer before hitting the

It should be on leading my new team to a victory. Instead, I see my ex, Dakota, bare ass up, face down on our bed as my best friend Troy railed her from behind. While our baby sat in a dirty diaper and cried in the other room. Mentirosos. Liars. Both of them. I’ll admit I wasn’t excited to have a kid. Not at first. But despite my party reputation in high school, I would never let my responsibilities slide. Unlike my father, who eventually left us, I promised myself I’d be there for Dakota. She and I were a hookup after I’d seen my parents get into another screaming match on my mom’s front porch, one that almost made me come to blows with my father. I was pissed off at the world, drank too much, and banged the bombshell blonde at the party who straddled my lap and told me it was my lucky night. There was nothing lucky about that night. I rub the ache in my chest. No, it feels wrong to think that. I got Asher, and he’ll always be the highlight of my life even though his mother has made my life hell. I changed everything for her.

In the long run, that’s how I’ve come to picture Mom at the end: reaching as hard as her little body would stretch, trying to touch the blue sky, reaching for some peace. And getting it. If the grown-up version of me could have one chance at walking backwards into this story, part of me wishes I could sit down on the back pew with that pissed-off kid in his overly tight church clothes and Darkhawk attitude, and tell him: You think you’re giant but you are such a small speck in the screwed-up world. This is not about you.

Freakin’ Moms, laying down the law and order with her slipper. La chancla. Every vato feared the chancla. A million bug-eyed, pissed-off Mexican mamas whacking the bejesus out of their kids, holding one arm and flailing ass with the free hand, the whole time dancing in a circle as the homie tried to run away but couldn’t get out of her grip.

Freakin’ Moms, laying down the law and order with her slipper. La chancla. Every vato feared the chancla. A million bug-eyed, pissed-off Mexican mamas whacking the bejesus out of their kids, holding one arm and flailing ass with the free hand, the whole time dancing in a circle as the homie tried to run away but couldn’t get out of her grip. And Moms getting all formal as she lectured, every word coming down with the whacks on the ass: Usted-va-a-aprender-quién-es-la-jefa-aquí! It was all “thee” and “thou” when the Old Ladies started smacking you. And once the poor criminal escaped, Moms launched that chancla like a guided missile and beaned him in the back of the head.

We all just want to be called by the name our mom uses when she's not pissed off at us.

Three and a half hours and a lot of curse words and tears later, my hands still ached, my elbows did too, and every step I took hurt the joints in my knees and the painfully stretched skin covering them. If I didn’t have black pants on, I was sure I’d look like I’d gotten into a fight with a bear cub and lost. Bad. Feeling defeated but trying my best not to, I sucked in one breath after another, forcing my feet to keep fucking going until I made it to the stupid-ass parking lot. I’d gone through periods of pure rage toward everything on the way down. Over the trail in the first place. Over doing this. Over the sun being out. At my mom for bamboozling me. I’d even been pissed off at my boots and would have taken them off and thrown them into the trees, but that was considered littering and there were too many rocks. It was the boots’ fault for being slippery, the sons of bitches. I was donating them the first chance I got, I’d decided at least ten times. Maybe I’d burn them. Okay, I wouldn’t because it was bad for the environment and there was still a fire ban in effect, but whatever. Pieces of shit.

She said her future was me. That I was one hundred percent of her reason for getting sober. I could see how this was supposed to make me feel great, but honestly it hit me as one more thing to worry about. What if she turns around in a month and gets shitfaced again or starts using? What does that tell you? That I wasn’t a strong enough reason. Stoner would be pissed off about the wasted cash and take it out on me. Mom was assigning me the superpower of getting and keeping her clean, and our family on track. It’s a lot of pressure.

Oye, no cabe duda. But, son, I’m looking for birth certificate here.” The kid softens. I can tell it’s happening. But there is embarrassment and a newfound vulnerability. “Napoleón,” he manages to squeak out, pronouncing it in Spanish. “Wow,” I say, “That’s a fine, noble, historic name. But I’m almost positive that when your jefita calls you, she doesn’t use the whole nine yardas. Come on, mijito, do you have an apodo? What’s your mom call you?” Then I watch him go to some far, distant place—a location he has not visited in some time. His voice, body language, and whole being are taking on a new shape—right before my eyes. “Sometimes,”—his voice so quiet, I lean in—“sometimes . . . when my mom’s not mad at me . . . she calls me . . . Napito.” I watched this kid move, transformed, from Sniper to Gonzalez to Cabrón to Napoleón to Napito. We all just want to be called by the name our mom uses when she’s not pissed off at us.

Mom got her some! Mom got her some!” he screeches loudly. I am so shocked I don’t even move. Not even my eyes. “Oh Gunner, harder! Harderrrrrrrr!” he spouts. O M G! I can feel the heat creeping up my neck and face. I can also hear the laughter coming from the room. “Fucks like a boss! Fucks ……….” “You say one more word Mac and you will be in a ziplock bag next to the chicken in my freezer! Got me?” I snarl at him. “No more cashews for you –ever!” I step off my stool, stalking his direction and I see him take off running the length of the bar hollering, “Loki, save me! Save me!” He gets to the end just as Loki arrives and he jumps off and lands on Loki’s back. Loki walks off nonchalantly. “Whew! Mom is pissed!” shouts Mac

I guess that’s what makes us monsters. We don’t love, we hate, and with physical love . . . it isn’t supposed to be about feeling safe and sound and molding into each other feeling like a whole with them, as if you were meant to be together. No, you are supposed to be scared and terrified. You don’t ever want to be used that way. It kills them inside. It’s cold and hard, and the child gets terminated in the wombor left somewhere to starve or freeze to death, or maybe be killed by someone who does the job for fun. That’s probably what our moms did, except we survived, and a lot do this way. Of course, for a fact I know I didn’t just walk to a cow and find milk after I was born. I don’t know how Will and I survived, but if you do till you are eight, you’ve made it. Either you’ll get sold to work for someone or find a way to live on your own. Learn witchcraft— thousand ways to go, but almost each and every one of them will have one thing in common. I guess just being Himagusian does it. We are all taught to be evil. There is no other way to survive, but me and William did. We didn’t kill, we just got our way usually by pissing them off. They’d come for us demanding our termination, trying to do it, but we were always too fast and clever, and maybe more humane

Before Liv did that Justen gives me a look after the beer was dump out over her head… yeah know- I can’t explain it- it’s silly- but it’s almost looked like a pity look like she felt bad for what she did to me, like she had to do it or something, but didn’t want to. It was not over Maddie dropped her jeans in pissed right on her face, and took a small dump on her chest- her goodies were visible to everyone, but that’s Maddie she’s crazy. All of the breath leaves my body in a rush, as Liv shoves tampons up her nose, and we all walk away. ‘Payback is a b*tch!’ I feel like I’ve been punched in the ovaries, and I was slogged in the stomach… by you gusset, it Ray. He still loves to get drunk, off all the humps, rumps, and lumps he had tonight. Saying- ‘What the hell are you guys doing to her? She didn’t do anything to you.’ I said- ‘Don’t even talk to me ass hole- you’re missed up!’ He said- ‘Fine, you’re a baby anyways. And he walked off all pissed.’ (He is the one to blame, isn’t he?) I said when he was walking off- ‘If she gets knocked up at ten by you not pulling out, I will kill you!’ I know this because she just started her period last month, and I had to be like her mom and explain everything, like always. My girls had my back… when he walked off. I think that is why he backed off. Oh yeah, without thinking, I chest bump them both as hard as I can, I felt like they saved me tonight. I am sure a fist bump would have worked but… you know. They showed they carried for me. That is when I see Rays' phone on the windowsill, like most boys he is all laying it down… I go throw it and see an ammeter video of him taking my sis on Marcel’s mom and dad's bed, I deleted it, before everyone sees it, online and on their phones. I am sure it’s been sent or is going to everyone that matters. I just hope I am not too late. And just like that, I see all the sexy texts and pics, so I drop it into a full cup of beer that someone left next to it on the sill. It’s bad enough she was popped and dropped like she doesn’t need that too, on top of it all. Jenny is squeezing Kenneth like she is frightened or uncomfortable by all, that is around her with all this drama. I see him- we lock eyes for a moment. I think he saw me doing it dropping the phone in. He was going out the door to aid Justen that was surely still passed out. I can’t exactly tell what he’s thinking, but whatever it is, it’s not good. I look away, feeling hot and uncomfortable. Like I should’ve done that.

She curls tightly to me kissing me on the lips and cheeks, her body skin to skin to mine, she’s kind of- like- a hyper puppy… you know- wet nose, big sad eyes, giving you lots of unwanted wet kisses, and can’t sit in one place for too long. Now she is pulling on my necklace, the one I am always wearing has my dad’s wedding ring hanging from it-a thin silver chain and the gold band hanging from it, a gift dad gives me- saying- ‘He loves me more than mom, that I am the love of his life.’ Yet sis tugs gently to get my full attention. I ask here- ‘Why are you not wearing your undies?’ And she baby- talks without missing a beat- ‘Be- because you don’t at night so-o why should I’s.’ I knew not too long from now she would be running around the house stark-naked like always, saying it’s because I sleep this way. I am sure mom will say I am a bad role model, but yet there are far worse things she has done, things that mom and dad never need to know about, things that I can even remember right now. If she wants to be in my bad nude, will- I guess that’s okay…? She is just trying to be like me, and that’s sweet. I have saved her butt many times when she has done bad things. I have been like a mom to her, ever since she was born if I wanted to be or not. And she has been there for me when I was a nobody. Yeah, she’s the best pain in the butt a girl can have. ‘Mommy says you have to get up soon, her hand covering her eyes as she walks my room and sees both of us.’ Her breath smells like toothpaste, as she kisses us good morning, and she stumbles over all the stuff lying on the floor and it’s not until I push sis off me that I realize how badly I’m shaking. Mom, she has one of those green face masks sped up, which is some scary-looking crap, pulls she has curlers in her hair. Yet that’s not what’s got me traumatized. ‘It’s Friday,’ I say confused. I thought we were going to the rusty anchor today? Mom said- ‘I thought you didn’t like doing that Karly that you’re too grown up to be with your mommy and Daddy and sissy… always- yes we are all going this upcoming weekend, glad to see you want to go.’ I said- ‘Oh- okay?’ Mom- ‘Karly are you feeling, okay? Are you not your usual descent and moody self? Me- ‘Yah I am a fine mom.’ I have no idea how I got home last night, or what I did or didn’t do. It’s like it never happened, yet I think it did… didn’t it? Maybe I drink too much? Mom said- ‘Um-hum- come on you two bare cuddle bugs it’s getting late.’ Then- I remember getting in the car, with the girls and the fighting it was all coming back to me, as I see my sis run into her room, leaving her nighty behind on my bed. I knew that something looked different about her when I looked her over, I am starting to remember what Ray did to her last night. Yet she seems to be taking it so well- so strange. I have no idea what happened to Jenny or Maddie or Liv, and just thinking about it makes me awful sick, pissed, and yet so worried. I put my feet on the ground, first on my fuzzy shaggy throw rug, and then I step forward feeling the hard would under my feet. The cold wood reminds me. When I was younger, I would lie on the floor all summer wishing I have some friends to spend my time with. Back then my only friend was my sis and my horse, I’m curious to do the same thing now, and reflect a bit on what the heck is going on- and also on how things have changed, I know my sis will be another half hour getting ready. And with me, all I have to do is jump in my outfit laying there on the floor. My skin feels so cold yet, yet on the inside, I feel scorching. Like- photos on Instagram, all these snapshots start scrolling, row after row in my mind. Seeing bits and pieces of what went down last night. My, I- phone starts vibrating on top of my bed until it falls off the edge hitting me square in the face making me jump two feet in the air. I reach for it and slide my finger over the cracked screen.

It’s Jenny- my daddy’s let her in. I walk into my room undressed, holding my wet towel in my right hand. Jenny looked at me and said- ‘I see we are going for the earthy look today; god you could have shaved a little.’ Jenny is lying bullied down on my bed, looking through my phone, with her legs up in the air, letting one fall and bounce on the Serta every once in a while. She looked up at me, she got that pissed-off look, eyebrows bent, I knew she saw I forwarded the message. I pay it off, acting like I was happy to see her, and in a way, I was, I would never want to see one of my girlfriends die- or be dead. Oh, Jenny- She looks so typical, so acquainted with everyone, yet on the inside is falling apart. Jenny is Bipolar and has Social Anxiety Disorder mixed with Bulimia, like every time she feels not wanted by a boy or feel overweight or something is not going her way, she has a hard time keeping her food down, she has even up-cucked on me and the girls at lunch, not meaning too. I am far from being a psychologist, yet those are my diagnosis, yet everyone just seems to ignore her faults. I know she saw the text because she ran down the hall to throw up, running my little butt over. If she asks why- I’ll just say- ‘Butt dialing!’ Jenny walks back into my room; she flops bully fist on the bed. I asked uneasily with curiosity- ‘So what transpired last night?’ She mopes for a second. ‘Yeah, sorry about that. I couldn’t call back. I didn’t get off the home phone with Ken until, like four am. And because my mom is a b*tch she took my cell away last night before staying out too late on a school night.

Beau caught me staring and winked. I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing. A sharp elbow nudged me in the ribs, causing me to gasp and spin around to find the person who belonged to the boney arm. Lana was smiling innocently at me. “You’re being obvious,” she hissed, keeping a fake smile on her face. Her meaning, however, sunk in. “I need to go to the car and get my phone. My mom’s probably called me ten times by now,” Lana announced. “I’ll go with you,” I quickly replied, glancing up at Sawyer, who seemed pleased I was being nice to my cousin. I used to seek out this sort of approval from him, but now it annoyed me. If I didn’t like my cousin, I’d stomp on her foot just to piss him off. Once we were safely out of the clearing and headed for the car, Lana stopped walking and turned to glare at me. “You’ve about ten minutes or so to get yourself together before your knight in shining armor comes looking for us. I’m going to go get my phone and make a few calls.” I frowned. “What do you mean?” “I mean you need to stop openly flirting with Beau while the entire football team is around to witness it. It’s like you two think you’re the only ones out there. We all have eyes, you know.” She spun around and headed deeper into the pecan orchard and toward the parked cars. “She’s got a point, but it’s my fault.” Beau’s voice should have startled me, but it didn’t. Somehow I knew he’d find a way to get me alone. “Yes, it probably is,” I said teasingly as I turned around to meet his gaze. Beau took a step toward me and ran his hand through his hair, muttering a curse. “I want to rip his damn arms off his body, Ash. Sawyer, who I’d do anything for. I want to hurt him. If he touches you again in front of me, I’m going to crack. I can’t take this.

It pissed Julia off that her mom still had this hold on her even after that whole meltdown at the tree house.

How is Dad? I need to stop by for dinner. I’ve been so busy.” “He’s good. Still overfeeding the dog. Still pissing off Mom.