Page 8 of It Was Always You

Easton:You getting your college applications done today?

Noah:Yup. Just about finished.

Easton:Me too. College is going to be awesome!

Yeah...it probably would be awesome for Easton. He was a good student. As for me, I'd be lucky to get into Ridgewater Community College with my grades. I really should have tried harder to study more during my first few years of high school. According to the school counselor, suddenly getting my act together my senior year probably wasn't going to work the miracles I was hoping it would. But hopefully, the lacrosse teams at Syracuse University or Cortland State would be watching me later this year and be willing to overlook the past three years and give me a spot on the team.

I sent off my application to Yale—a last-ditch effort—and tried to read the boringPride and Prejudicebook my English teacher assigned me as her latest form of punishment. As my eyes traveled over the words, my mind wandered off. I thought of how weird it was that teachers always talked about how reading was the single most important indicator of success in education, only to assignthis old crap that might as well have been written in a foreign language. I mean, I'd probably enjoy reading a heck of a lot better if I actually got to pick the book. But sinceESPN Magazinedidn't count as approved reading material, I was stuck with one of the books Ashlyn had always raved about.

The ornery Mr. Darcy guy was insulting the Elizabeth girl when I heard the yelling coming from downstairs. I listened for a minute to get a gauge on its intensity. At the moment, it was just a low rumble. If it stayed that way, I wouldn't have to go down and interfere.

The door to my room opened, and my eight-year-old half-sister, Brielle, stepped inside, fear etched all over her face.

"I'm scared, Noah." She rushed over and wrapped her arms around my torso. "I don't want to go to that shelter again."

I pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. "I won't let you go there again." They'd only spent three days at the women's shelter the last time Paul's temper got out of control, but three days was more than the length any little girl should ever have to hide from her dad.

We were quiet for a moment, listening to the argument below. When I noticed Brielle was shaking, I pulled her onto my lap. "Sorry you have to hear this," I said under my breath.

She nodded and burrowed her head against my chest.A huge part of me wanted to go downstairs right then and bring Paul up so he could see what his rage was doing to his little girl. And another part of me wanted to bring my mom up too, so she could see how staying with her unpredictable husband was affecting her daughter.

"Is it really that hard to put the dishes in the dishwasher instead of the sink?" Paul's voice bellowed up the stairs, louder than it had been before.

"I'm sorry. We were rushing to get Brielle to her basketball practice. I was going to put them away when we got home."

"You should wake up when I do if you don't want to be rushed. Is it so much to ask that my wife get some common sense?"

I clenched my hands into fists at Paul's rant. How dare he talk to my mom that way.

"I-I'm sorry. I was just so tired after last night..." my mom's voice drifted off. I hated how scared and small she sounded. She was a grown woman. She shouldn't be treated like she was a naughty child.

"That's no excuse. I bust my butt every day, sucking up to my idiot of a boss. The least you can do for me is keep this house clean!" His voice roared even louder, causing my insides to vibrate with the intensity.

My heart pounded in my temples. I needed to stop this before he hurt her again.

I shifted Brielle off my lap, setting her down on mybed. "I'm going to check on things. Stay here where it's safe, okay?"

Her big, brown eyes showed fear, but she nodded.

I rushed down the hall and stopped on the staircase once I had a view of where they stood in the hall downstairs. Paul was waving his hands in anger as he went on and on about what hedeservedand how my mom was failing at everything.

My chest hurt to see my mom cowering under such a domineering man.

"You need to calm down, Paul," Mom said after Paul finally shut his mouth for a second.

That sentence seemed to flip the switch because he immediately grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her against the wall.

"Don't tell me to calm down. You know what happens when you talk back to me."

I was down the stairs two seconds later and shoving him away from my mom. "Keep your hands off her!" I yelled.

He stumbled back, knocking a black vase to the tile floor. Anger flashed in his eyes, and before I knew what was happening, his fist collided with my face.

"Get out of the way, Noah."

Pain shot through me, but I stood in front of my mom, not about to let him touch her again. My neck prickled as I felt her cowering behind me.

Paul's eyes went cold as stone. "This is my house. And I'll take care of things as I see best."

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