Fast Car | Escapes #1

Chapter 9

"I don't want your sob story." He stood and walked to the two-sided window. "You're just trying to get your paycheck back." He gave me a once-over before looking back out at the store. "You want me to believe your story? Sorry, but I don't believe a word you say. You look too healthy to be someone who never eats."

"Yeah, now I do. You should have seen me-"

"Stop lying to me and get to work. Next time, I'm dropping your pay and you're getting paid what you're worth."

"Oh? And just what am I worth to you?"

"Hourly minimum wage. What you should have been getting paid this whole time. Now, get out of my office and clock in so you don't dock your own pay."

I clenched my teeth and walked out. He won this round, and I was livid. When I walked to the checkout to clock in, I hit the screen so hard it was a wonder I didn't break it. 

A hand touched my shoulder. I looked up and found Thelma. "It's going to be okay," she said. "We'll get through this."

Something about her words made the anger dissipate and tears gather. I hugged her and tried to not cry on her shoulder. "I know," I said in a thick voice. When I pulled back, my tears had escaped and were rolling down my cheeks. "Mr. Milton will be back before we know it."

"What happened to him?" she asked.

"He fell down some stairs on the outside of his house. He broke one leg and fractured the other. I think he had a concussion, too, but I don't remember right now." I wiped my face.

She nodded. "Okay. I'm glad it wasn't worse."

"Me too." I swiped at my eyes again and sniffled. "I'm getting to work."

"That would probably be for the best. He's probably watching you right now."

I glanced behind me at the office. "True."

---

Before I knew it, the day came for me to pick up my check. I thought I had prepared myself for the worst, but I hadn't. Brayden handed me the paper check and I stared at it. "I think you made a mistake," I said, holding it out to him. 

He glanced at it but shook his head. "Remember, we talked about this. I'm paying you what you're worth to the store. You're getting minimum wage for the hours you worked."

I looked at the check again. "But... but this is barely $200. I can't live a week on this."

He raised an eyebrow. "You live at home. You don't have a car. Why would you need more than that?"

I schooled my face into a neutral expression. "I support my family, okay? I work so we have food. I can't afford much of anything with this."

"Then I suggest you earn a raise."

I shook my head. "Can you schedule me for more hours? I'll work 50 hours."

He shook his head with a sigh. "I can't legally do that until you're 18. You're still a minor."

"Then do something so that I can feed my family for a week. Our light bill for the month is more than this check. How do you expect me to be able to pay for that?"

His brow furrowed. "What are you talking about? Don't you live at home? Why would you need to pay an electric bill?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Oh, sorry, I forgot you're rich and privileged. You wouldn't get the financial situation of other people. Not only do you seriously not get it, you don't even care. If you laid down your pride and bias for a few moments, you'd see the rest of the world isn't all peaches and cream. There's some people that need all the help they can get."

His face turned to stone as I talked. "I've had plenty of hard times."

"I wasn't talking about eating ramen while your daddy paid your college tuition."

"Just get back to work. You're holding up the line for everyone else."

I knew he was right, and I didn't want to listen to him, but I had to.  It took everything in me to suck up my pride and walk away. I wanted so bad to escalate things, but I knew I couldn't. That wasn't me. My dad was the one that hit people. Not me. 

The encounters I'd had with him ever since we started getting our checks messed up and our hours changed all reinforced my dislike of him. I wanted to go somewhere else, but there wasn't anywhere I could go. I was stuck. I felt so helpless. The only thing keeping me going at this point was the bus ticket in my locker.

My shift went by quickly, and by the end, I was more paranoid than ever about the check in my pocket. It was terrifying. I'd never been as scared of a piece of paper as I was by this one. My dad would be mad about it, and I didn't want to know what he'd do.

Yet I was bound to find out. I couldn't just not go home. That would make him even madder. I had to face the music.

There was light coming from our apartment, so I knew he was still up. I went upstairs and unlocked the door. Barely two steps inside, a voice greets me, "Where have you been?"

I turned and found my dad sitting in his recliner, somewhere between drunk and sober. It was hard to tell how far he was from either. Still, it wasn't good. He was a violent drunk. "I was at work."

"Let me see your proof." He held out his hand. I hesitated to pull the check out of my pocket, but I didn't have a choice. I sat the folded paper on his hand and he opened it. "You liar." He stood. "I went to the library today. Guess who I didn't see. Guess who they didn't recognize."

I swallowed reflexively. "I've been working," I said quietly. "They cut my hours and reduced my pay. Brayden-"

"Don't tell me those lies!" A vein stood out in his neck and I shrunk into myself. This wasn't good. I'd never seen him this mad since I was smaller and Mom was here. Those nights always ended with him leaving and her crying in the bedroom with bruises and black eyes. Now, though, I didn't have the option of hiding in my closet. "Tell me where you've been or so help me I will slap you into the next apartment!"

I panicked and my mind went completely blank. My mouth opened and shut without any sounds coming out. The next thing I knew, my dad's open hand was connecting to my face and I was picking myself up off the floor. My face stung. "Why?" I asked, looking at him with tears in my eyes. 

His eyes only narrowed at me. "You're going to answer me! Now!"

I watched as spit flew from his mouth and felt as droplets hit my face. "I've been working," I said. "I'm trying to find somewhere else to work."

His hand connected with the other side of my face and I stumbled into the wall. "You're lying to me. You been going somewhere else. Where have you been going? I know you weren't at work the other night when you said that man went to the hospital."

My heart dropped. Prom night. He meant the night out with Brayden. "I-I was at work."

"I went there that night to buy beer and you weren't there. I asked."

Panic tried to take over. My mind shut down. "I was out with friends."

"Friends? You've never brought any around here. Tell me right now where you were."

I stared at him and shook my head. "I was at school," I whispered.

"School? You expect me to believe you were at school at night?"

"Prom. Prom is at school."

He paused, letting my words sink in. "So you've been doing something as useless as going to school, and you've been lying to my face about it?" He grabbed me by my hair and pulled me to the living room, throwing me onto the couch. "How long have you been lying to me?"

Something inside of me snapped. "Why do you care? You've been getting all the beer you want since I went to work. What does it matter that I've been doing what I want? You never care about anything but yourself."

The rage on my dad's face transformed into something utterly terrifying. I wanted to take back everything that I'd said, but it was too late to backtrack. All I could do was accept my new fate.