What's Behind Curtain Number Three?

A Little Bit Stronger

But still.

Those people had acceptable reasons- like work.

She need not work, my dad told her that numerous times.

But then again, she wasn’t working, she was trying to make a name for herself.

The best house wife in the world.

Yeah, she was the best house wife.

But was the worse mother.

Of course, Xander can’t say the same.

Worse thing she did to him was to force him to marry some girl from an equally rich family- which he obviously turned down.

Other than that, she was beside him all the time he was growing up.

She was at every game, every recital and what not for Xander, but couldn’t even come or remember my own birthday.

Her only daughter’s birthday.

And that wasn’t the last time that that happened.

Unless you are wondering, no I didn’t celebrate my sweet 16 with the Knights, not even my debut.

All this I celebrated with the Andersons.

Not one year did they ever forgotten.

Well, my dad would have offered to do something for my 18th if he didn’t die a month before.

So really, my 18th wasn’t that happy anyways.

But this isn’t just about my birthday. No, this is for every single thing my mother did and didn’t do in my entire life.

 

“A car?”

“Yes.”

“What for?”

“Well, for school and-“

“You have a driver and the limousine, what do you need a car for?”

“Well, daddy said-“

“Your dad can’t be bothered of such stupid things, Justice.” She says as she read on her book, “Just as he can’t be bothered by every stupid thing that comes out of your mouth. Now go to your room and stay there, I’ll have you dinner sent there.”

“Why?”

“Your brother’s friends are here, I don’t want you to spoil there night.”

“The guys are coming over?” I asked, excited.

Of course I was friends with the jocks. And they were pretty cool, they would often update me of who’s who at school, even invite me to concerts or what not.

As long as I consider it a date of course.

For me, as long as it gets me out of the house, I’ll pretty much agree to anything. And also as long as Henry could tag along.

“You are staying in your room and staying away from the boys, do you hear me?” she snapped, “As if the neighbors needs anymore reasons to call you a whore.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” she sneered, “the neighbors call you a whore as they see you with different boys everyday.”