T W E N T Y—S E V E N
I ASSUMED THE guys were probably having a decent time hanging out and catching up with Selena. Unfortunately for me, my evening didn't exactly stay quite as peaceful.
You see, my foster dad was pretty into gambling and just about anything else he could get money from. I rarely came home, and I usually called in advance to let him know when I was coming, but tonight my phone just so happened to die on my way there.
He was most definitely unhappy when I showed up, clad in a heavy hoodie and my hair frizzy from the light rain outside, not to mention the fact that I'd taken my hair tie out hours ago at Tyler's. He'd been forced to explain why his 'young niece' was visiting him and apologize profusely for ending the game so soon, determined to keep his fostering ways a secret.
Needless to say, we ended up getting in a pretty heated argument after everyone left.
"Why the hell are you here? I thought I made myself very clear that you were to warn me ahead of time when you have to stay here!"
"I'm your foster child! You could at least have the decency to care a bit." I formed a small space between my pointer finger and thumb. "Why did you even get me if you despise my existence?"
"I don't despise your existence, I just don't want to see you." He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Look, you're only my problem legally, and I put up with you because I don't have to see you and I get paid." He closed his brown eyes for a minute and a hand over his cleanly shaven jaw. "You're not my kid, you're the state's."
Somewhere in his early forties, Roger looked much younger than he actually was. He had dark hair and brown eyes, was probably about 5'11, and was a decent weight for a man his age. If he was actually a nice guy, he could probably have a pretty girlfriend and a family of his own one day. Too bad he's a self-centered jackass
Anger spiked through me and raised the hairs on my arms and neck. "Oh, trust me," I growled. "I'm pretty aware that I'm not your kid."
"What's that supposed to mean?" He said, voice raising again.
"I have no parents," I snapped. "It's not like you could raise a kid of your own, anyway!"
"Look here, kid," he said, stepping forward. "As long as you're in my house, you'll show me some respect."
"How about you kiss my fucking ass, you self-centered prick!" I shoved hard against his chest, but he didn't budge an inch.
I froze, my blood chilling as I processed his words. "What?"
"Get," he emphasized slowly, pointing a finger at the front door. "Out."
"You can't just kick me out!" I threw my arms out beside me in exasperation.
"Sure I can," he said calmly, dropping his hand in favor of crossing his arms. "If you want to disrespect me, then get out of my house."
"I don't have anywhere to go," I said, the reality of his words sinking in. If I couldn't go to one of the guy's houses, I'd have nowhere. No one. "You can't just kick me out on the streets because I pissed you off."
"Yes, I can, you worthless little brat." He raised a mocking eyebrow and lifted his chin. He might as well have a sign on his forehead with "errogant' in glowing letters. "What are you going to do? Cry? Tell on me? I'm a self-centered prick, remember? I don't care."
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The Four of Us | Major EditingTeen Fiction
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