Page 7 of Your Side of the Offense

"Aight, bet. Well, if you need an acquaintance or something on camp, holla."

We nod.

We have a few beers afterward, then leave, walking back to our house.

"Where do you think she lives?" I ask.

"Probably the dorms," Arch says with amusement.

"Definitely the dorms," Jaden adds.

I can't help the smile.

"Yeah, cause fuck the system," Harvey says and we all laugh.

Summer is a bit of an interesting crayon. She always talked about not wanting to be part of a sorority; she didn't want anyone telling her what to do.

The original plan had been for her to live with us. The fifth room was hers, but after everything happened, she managed to get a replacement, even though we wanted to keep it open for her. And we didn't even know about it until two weeks ago.

She got us a male kid named Fanta Morris. I haven't even met him, but I hate him already.

2

ALWAYS BOSS UP

Summer

"Don't forget the container, Su," my mother says loudly like she is trying to provoke me. I mean, she is.

I sigh before I turn to give her a glare.

"Yes, Susu, don't forget your cookies," my nana says from the other room and I narrow my eyes at my mother as she grins, utterly happy with herself.

I love my grandmother, but even though I’ve told her a million times that I'm going to college, and I don't need to carry food, she insisted because 'it's what I do for all my babies, and they have all succeeded.'

My plan was to pretend I forgot the cookies, then remember far enough away that I wouldn’t have to go back and get them. But, lo and behold, my scheming mother.

“Yes, nana. How could I forget," I lower my voice for that last one.

"Oh, come on, I endured it, so must you.” My mother laughs. “Now take the cookies and let's go. Your father will be downstairs in a minute."

Rolling my eyes, I take the tin container that has been in my family for generations. I'm no historian, but I'm pretty sure it was the first thing my ancestors bought when they got their freedom. Probably used it to dodge some of the bullets.

It has dents everywhere and scratches like it's been through wars, but nana treasures it. I would throw it somewhere, but I know she will expect it back from me. It's like the Bailey family’s very own traveling pants.

I sigh again before I skip outside.

"We are late!" my father yells, coming down the stairs. The rest of us have been ready for an hour and he wasn't even showered until fifteen minutes ago, too busy working on his car since dawn, but now that he's ready, everyone must be ready. The man believes everybody works on his time.

Men.

I kick my train of thought as it lands on the four men I don't want to think about.

Coming back from Europe with my family, I thought I'd be fine. That being away would maybe heal me, but it hasn't. I keep going back and forth with the motions. Angry at first, then utterly heartbroken, then I'd wish they would tell me it was fake. Then I'd get angry again realizing it really happened, and they all played a part in it.

I feel so angry at myself too. How could I be so stupid? How could I think they would really be happy with just me? I love myself and don't think low of myself, but I did punch a little above my weight dating all of them at once.

But I came home sure of one thing.

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