This is from my WIP, A Tattered Life. I wrote most of this section last night. First draft. Leave comments if you wish.
When
I course up the driveway, gravel crackling beneath my over-sized tires, Mama
glances up, only for a second, then gets right back to cleaning up the tornado
debris from our yard. She’s pissed, I can tell. I put the truck in park and
sit, conjuring up an excuse for being late.
She
doesn’t speak to me as I pass her to put my backpack in the house, but I feel
her eyes on me, boring a hole straight to my soul. I toss my coat on the
couch, run into my room, throw on some shorts, grab a garbage bag and my gloves
from the morning, which are right where I left them by the front door.
I
run to Mama, grab her by the shoulders and kiss her cheek. “Sorry I’m late, I
got detention.”
Her
head whips up at me. “Again? What for this time?”
“I
towel whipped Duncan Price’s bare ass in the locker room.”
She
stares at me for a moment in a state of disbelief, but that usually doesn’t
last long, because nothing I do ever surprises her anymore, so I can pretty
much tell her anything to get out of trouble. Funny, I’m making up getting in
trouble to get out of trouble.
“Very
well, but you better leave that boy alone. He could be your boss someday.”
I
start picking up garbage. “Mama, are you kidding me? I’m going pro. Duncan may be
lots of people’s bosses someday, but he ain’t gonna me mine.”
She
stoops over to join me in the garbage collecting. “If you’re going pro you
better keep those grades up, make sure you don’t get injured, and stop towel
whipping boys in the locker room.”
“Yes
Ma’am.”
We
work in silence. I don’t dare stop working until Mama gives me a sign that
we’re done.
“You
hungry?”
“Starved.”
She
hands me her bag of garbage, then pulls her gloves off and puts them in my bag.
Stretching her spine out, hands on the small of her back, she says, “You take
care of those, I’ll start supper.”
I
do as she tells me, then go clean up. “Start your homework, Jaden!” Mama calls
from the kitchen. A breeze comes through, carrying a trace of fried chicken with
it. That meant mashed potatoes or home fries too, and I smell garlic, which
Mama always adds to her mashed potatoes. Don’t know if she picked that up in
Italy or what, but made them damn good. I hope she doesn’t make brussel
sprouts. No matter how big a fit I threw, Mama always made me eat them. Still
tells me they’ll make me grow big and strong. I’m 6’2 and 210. How much more
big and strong do I need to be?
I
grab my backpack, fully intending to do as Mama says and start my homework, but
I’m distracted by the crazy chick’s notebook staring at me as soon as I unzip
it. I pull it out, lay on my bed, and turn to the next entry.
