Read Online Without Protection (Taking the Brat) by Kyra Keeley - Free Book Online
Authors: Kyra Keeley
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I feel like I had a good reason to skip school today, I rationalize, crawling back under my covers. If that lousy boyfriend had not dumped me like I was nothing, you can bet I would be sitting in first period right now, waiting for the bell to ring, so I could give him a quick kiss in the hallway before English.
But, he did ditch me, and f or my best friend I might add. The whole fucked up situation hurts me worse than when I broke my arm on the swing set in third grade.
Even worse, is that I know that bitch used all my secrets as ammunition to steal my boyfriend from me. I’m sure she told him that I wasn’t ready to go all the way, but she was. That I didn’t trust him, but she did. Then the topper, that I had a crush on an older man that I wouldn’t tell her anything about, and that we were probably having sex behind his back.
The last one was probably the real kicker and it was also the most innocent. What I was too embarrassed to tell her was that that older man was my stepfather, Noah. Like that would ever happen, even if deep down I wanted it to. If that had gotten out, I probably wouldn’t be able to go the entire last week of school and have had to go to school halfway across the country.
All of t his is why there is no way I’m showing my face in that lousy school today, it will be hard enough to go tomorrow.
I feel so dejected; I don’t even want to see the sun. I throw the covers over my head and cry myself back to sleep.
I wake back up just as the afternoon begins, deciding to give fully in to my post break-up meltdown. Having cried all the tears that I have in me, I decide that I just want to do everything bad that a person can do home alone in the matter of one day. Yeah, I’m still mad, but I imagine I might be a little less angry if I drink some of my parents booze, smoke some of their pot, eat ice cream, and watch soap operas. After this day of indulgence, it will be back on my feet and onward, I tell myself.
As I stretch, I wonder why I don’t skip school more often. My mom is always out of town on business, and my stepfather works late. All it takes is one call to the school using my ultra mature adult voice.
I get out of bed and tiptoe towards my parent’s bedroom. I don’t know why I’m being so quiet, I guess it’s because I’m doing something I’m not supposed to. I open then drawer where they keep their pot, gently easing out the smallest amount. Being the petite newbie—I’ve only smoked once—I don’t need much. I grab their funny little pipe, as I know not the first thing about rolling a joint.
I continue to creep around slowly , making my way towards the staircase leading downstairs. I take the steps one by one, taking the time to marvel at the slow unveiling of the kitchen, lit by a time of day that I never get to see through the week. Once in the kitchen, I head for the freezer to get the ice cream I know was in there. I open it, but lo and behold it’s gone.
“Shit,” I say just above a whisper, breaking my quiet as a mouse routine.
In disbelief, I start to root through the freezer thinking it has to have been put behind something. Not able to find it, I slam the door.
Turning around, I nearly jump into space when I see my stepfather, Noah, standing in the doorway in between the kitchen and the living room. He leans against the doorframe assuming the cocksure stance of a cop who has caught a thief red-handed.
“Well, well, Rebecca,” he says with a disappointed shake of his head.
I involuntarily dive for the damning evidence on the counter.
“Noah, I didn’t . . . expect . . .” I’m at a loss. I’ve got no answers.
“School just not suit you today?”
“I just couldn’t go . . . not today,” I say looking down, unable to make eye contact. Looking straight at the ground, I’m reminded that I’m wearing no pants, just pink lacy panties that happen to be nearly transparent. My face reddens and heats ups like I’m inches from a fire.
This
But, he did ditch me, and f or my best friend I might add. The whole fucked up situation hurts me worse than when I broke my arm on the swing set in third grade.
Even worse, is that I know that bitch used all my secrets as ammunition to steal my boyfriend from me. I’m sure she told him that I wasn’t ready to go all the way, but she was. That I didn’t trust him, but she did. Then the topper, that I had a crush on an older man that I wouldn’t tell her anything about, and that we were probably having sex behind his back.
The last one was probably the real kicker and it was also the most innocent. What I was too embarrassed to tell her was that that older man was my stepfather, Noah. Like that would ever happen, even if deep down I wanted it to. If that had gotten out, I probably wouldn’t be able to go the entire last week of school and have had to go to school halfway across the country.
All of t his is why there is no way I’m showing my face in that lousy school today, it will be hard enough to go tomorrow.
I feel so dejected; I don’t even want to see the sun. I throw the covers over my head and cry myself back to sleep.
I wake back up just as the afternoon begins, deciding to give fully in to my post break-up meltdown. Having cried all the tears that I have in me, I decide that I just want to do everything bad that a person can do home alone in the matter of one day. Yeah, I’m still mad, but I imagine I might be a little less angry if I drink some of my parents booze, smoke some of their pot, eat ice cream, and watch soap operas. After this day of indulgence, it will be back on my feet and onward, I tell myself.
As I stretch, I wonder why I don’t skip school more often. My mom is always out of town on business, and my stepfather works late. All it takes is one call to the school using my ultra mature adult voice.
I get out of bed and tiptoe towards my parent’s bedroom. I don’t know why I’m being so quiet, I guess it’s because I’m doing something I’m not supposed to. I open then drawer where they keep their pot, gently easing out the smallest amount. Being the petite newbie—I’ve only smoked once—I don’t need much. I grab their funny little pipe, as I know not the first thing about rolling a joint.
I continue to creep around slowly , making my way towards the staircase leading downstairs. I take the steps one by one, taking the time to marvel at the slow unveiling of the kitchen, lit by a time of day that I never get to see through the week. Once in the kitchen, I head for the freezer to get the ice cream I know was in there. I open it, but lo and behold it’s gone.
“Shit,” I say just above a whisper, breaking my quiet as a mouse routine.
In disbelief, I start to root through the freezer thinking it has to have been put behind something. Not able to find it, I slam the door.
Turning around, I nearly jump into space when I see my stepfather, Noah, standing in the doorway in between the kitchen and the living room. He leans against the doorframe assuming the cocksure stance of a cop who has caught a thief red-handed.
“Well, well, Rebecca,” he says with a disappointed shake of his head.
I involuntarily dive for the damning evidence on the counter.
“Noah, I didn’t . . . expect . . .” I’m at a loss. I’ve got no answers.
“School just not suit you today?”
“I just couldn’t go . . . not today,” I say looking down, unable to make eye contact. Looking straight at the ground, I’m reminded that I’m wearing no pants, just pink lacy panties that happen to be nearly transparent. My face reddens and heats ups like I’m inches from a fire.
This
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