Page 3 of No Place Like Home

Quincy laughed; I would have laughed too if my sister hadn’t thrown me under the bus.

“Jess is a cockblocker. She never lets me do fun things.”

Quincy doubled over, laughing into the makeshift counter. His hands then proceeded to pound on the top, and Blake hid his laughter as he led my sister away. He did, however, mouthbye, cockblockerwhile I glared.

My life was so much simpler before Blake became my friend.

Okay, that was a lie. My life was miserable before Juliet moved next door. She gave us a safe place to hang out without my father’s angry voice following us around. Thanks to her, Rosie was able to experience a real Thanksgiving. Thanks to Juliet, I was starting to remember what it felt like to smile.

“Your sister is a cutie,” Quincy mused.

“She’s the best part of my parents.”

Rosie fit. Her features blended in with everyone else. She had blonde hair like our dad's and my mother’s brown eyes, but her eyes weren’t small like mine. Once in a blue moon, our grandmother acknowledged Rosamie. I was all my mom; according to mom, I looked like her older sister, whom I’d never met.

Traveling to the Philippines was expensive, and even though it was Mom's dream to one day take us, we never had enough money.

Maybe now that our dad was out of the picture, we would do better. I knew it was hard for Mom, but I was proud that she’d finally left him. He didn’t treat her right. He didn’t treat me and my sister any better, but at least he didn’t hit us. I didn’t remember loving my father, but I remembered when I’d started hating him. I was seven years old on my way to my first sleepover when Dad got home drunk.

My mom was trying to get me ready; she told him to give her five minutes.

It was just five minutes.

But in those five minutes, my life completely changed.

“Jess.”

I blinked and shook my head, trying to chase away the memories. I looked at Quincy, who was looking at me with furrowed brows.

“Don’t get all gloomy on me. You know I got loves for you.” Q gave my shoulder a light punch, and I forced myself to give him a small smile.

As I gazed at him, I wondered how it felt like to be envied by all the guys his age, adored by all the girls. To know that he was about to grab hold of his dreams and leave this place in the dust.

I didn’t do sports, but even I knew he’d had scouts coming to his practice since he was a freshman. Still, none of the football fame mattered to me. Q was a decent guy. He was a big flirt, but he was friendly, considerate, and compassionate. He liked his clothes, but didn’t want to ask his parents for extra cash. He talked to everyone because he genuinely cared about what they had to say. He volunteered at the retirement center because he said one day that would be him, and since he’s an only child, he wanted someone to visit him. That was his way of paying it forward. Under all the cockiness was a decent guy, which was rare nowadays.

“Glooms,” Quincy said as he gave my head a light smack.

“I will cut you.” I grabbed the butter knife and pointed it at him.

“Oh, my God. Should we call Detective Hendrix? I think Jess has finally lost it,” Avery, Quincy’s girlfriend, screeched when she reached our booth.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. With girls like Avery, it was better to keep your mouth shut. Instead, I put the knife down and turned around to make more coffee.

“Did Emma hide the real knives so she wouldn’t cut herself?” Avery asked loud enough that I could hear her.

I bit my lip and felt my blood boil, but I took a deep breath and let it go. If it wouldn’t matter in five years, it didn’t matter today. It was the only thing getting me through high school.

“Ave,” Q growled while I pretended not to hear.

My cheeks flamed. I wasn’t going to lie and say I didn’t think about it. It was often, mostly when I gave my headphones to Rosie, so she wouldn’t have to endure listening to my father yell at my mother. I thought of causing myself pain and pouring out all the ugly inside me to release some of the frustration that coursed through my veins.

But all I had to do was turn to look at Rosie singing a lullaby, and the edge would go away. I could pretend with her.

So I did my best to hide the ugly with Rosie. I didn’t want her to grow up hating our dad as I did. I didn’t want her to know what it was to be so utterly disappointed in our parents and wish we had never been born. There was ugliness in the world, and she was too young to know about it. I wanted better for Rosamie. I wanted everything that was never meant for me.

Maybe I could do that for her with Dad out of the picture. It was too late for me, but it was just in time for her.

“Hey, I’m going to take a quick break, okay?” Q told me.

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