Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
"Well, look what we have here, boys," Jimmy announced. We had gone to school together since we were little. I turned to see who he was talking about. Five lockers down there was a scrawny kid with glasses. He looked like he didn't belong in our school. Jimmy went barreling up to him, knocking the books out of his hands.
"Are you lost? The school for under-privileged kids is on the other side of the city."
Leo ignored him, picking up his books.
The bell rang, warning us to get to class. Jimmy and a few other guys shoved Leo into his locker, shut it, and walked away laughing. Needless to say, Jimmy and the boys were no longer laughing once school let out. I made sure to set them all straight, and ordered them not to fuck with Leo ever again. Or else. There was something about the kid, and to this day I don’t know what made me come to his rescue.
After that, he became a permanent fixture in my life. He was still a geeky-ass kid, but it no longer mattered. My friendship was his shield. Nobody would dare to fuck with him anymore. Even at that young of an age, I never pussyfooted around. I meant what I said, and I said what I meant. I never apologized for who I was or my actions. People could take it or leave it. I didn't give a shit. My don’t-give-a-fuck attitude only made people want to hangout with me more, when in reality they should have been staying as far away from me as possible.
Everyone knew who my father was, and they feared me because of it.
I had never been a fan of those who preyed on the weak. Maybe it was because I saw so much weakness in my sister. I’d sacrifice everything just to protect her if need be. My father knew Amari wasn’t cut from the same cloth, which was why I was never allowed to leave the house when they weren’t around. It never made any sense in my eyes. There were always bodyguards everywhere, just waiting to pull the trigger if shit hit the fan. I assumed they were getting paid a fuck-load of money to do a job my father seemed more inclined to give me.
“Amari, they’re not going to be back until late. If they even come home at all. They’re at someone’s initiation or some shit,” I replied, pulling my arm out of her grasp.
“Aren’t you tired of being grounded all the time? Why can’t you just listen for once? It’s not that hard,” she sassed, waving her hands in the air.
“Just keep your mouth shut. If they come home, you didn’t see me.”
“I’m a terrible li—”
“Carajo, Amari! Haga lo que le digo pues,” I shouted, “Fuck, Amari! Just do it,” annoyed with her persistent nagging.
She sighed, looking away from me.
She hated it when I yelled at her. Our dad did it enough for everyone. He believed in tough love. Hugs and kisses were few and far between. We rarely heard the words “I love you” from his mouth. Our mother was the only one who showed us love, tenderness, and affection. I stepped toward Amari, lightly grabbing her chin, forcing her to look at me again. She peered up at me through her lashes. I knew what this was really about. She worried something would happen to me. She worried constantly about everything. Especially what harm could come to her if I wasn’t around.
“I’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. I promise, you got Dad’s new goons here. I won’t be back late.”
I kissed her forehead, glancing one last time at Sophia before I turned and left. I could tell she wanted to ask where we were going, but she knew better. I winked at her with a sly grin, and she warily smiled. It wasn’t until later that night I wished I had never left the house, and by the look on Sophia’s face, she felt what my sister might have expected all along.
“You fuck, I’m so late. If my dad catches me, it’s my ass he’s going to lay out, Leo,” I stated, shooting him a death glare.
Those girls were definitely not worth the shit I’d be in if my parents got home before I did. Of course, my mother would try to defend me like she always did, but it wouldn’t matter. At the end of the day, what my father said ruled, end of story. The husband's word was the law in Hispanic marriages. The wife was subservient to her husband. She raised the kids, made sure the house was clean, and dinner was on the table every night. Now, add in the fact my father was a crime boss, and you get the picture. He was one of the most feared and hated men in the world, but to my mom, he was God.