Page 31 of Forecasting the Forward

You know you’re hot, Jacob.

Becca

Also yes.

Me

I’d be honored to be your pretend boyfriend. Does that mean I can kiss you?

Becca

For pretend?

Me

Sure. We’ll go with that.

Me

Looking forward to seeing you, Spitfire.

Becca

Don’t tell Jacob, but I’m looking forward to seeing you too.

Me

Don’t tell Jacob?

Becca

Yeah. My fake boyfriend keeps all my secrets.

Me

Alright. I won’t tell him.

I should have said no.Should have told Jacob I didn’t need him. I’ll be fine. I’malwaysfine. I knew from a very early age that I was despised by my family. I’ve never had a true explanation as to why, but they’ve treated me like shit for as long as I can remember. My therapist has some thoughts. I have the quietest personality of the four of us, but also the one who exudes the most peace. She thinks my mother hates me because I’m young and beautiful. I hold myself regally, whereas my older brother is only one inch taller than me, and has about one hundred pounds of extra weight on his frame. I don’t ever remember my father treating me with anything resembling kindness, but my lack of interest in the family business sealed the deal there.

It’s dumb, really. My brother has been groomed to take over from my dad since he was a teenager. What did it matter what I wanted to do with my life? Was I expected to take some kind of secretarial job, or another job with no responsibility? I know they wanted me under their thumb, where they’d pick out my husband, and then I’d be popping children out left and right. Nothank you. I’m not sure if I even want kids. They’re fun, but I like my independence.

So when my mother looks at me and loudly sighs, I roll my eyes. “What, Mother? How have I offended you this time?”

Margaret Atwood Stephens sits up straighter as my brother stalks into the room. Taking a good look at him, I notice how far his hairline has receded. Rodney Stephens, Junior glares at me as his nostrils flare, and I realize his nose is quite a bit bigger than when I last saw him.

“You watch your mouth, you little bitch,” he snarls.

My eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You are in our house. You will not speak to Mother that way.”

“You still live here?” I screech. “You’re thirty-six years old!”

I don’t see the hand coming, and I don’t register the pain until a few seconds after my head flings to the side. Rodney viciously grabs my chin, forcing me to look up at him. A metallic taste hits my tongue as I realize my lip is bleeding.

“I live here because I run this town. I will bury you, Rebecca. Just try me. You are only here to save face with our investors. After the funeral, we’ll discuss how you’ll be helping the future of this family.” His eyes are full of hatred as he stares at me. I can see my mom out of the corner of my eye looking away, as if she can act like this isn’t happening. Rodney squeezes my chin harshly, and I cry out in pain. “Such a waste of space. Do you understand? You’re worthless. You mean nothing. They should have gotten rid of you when they had the chance, you spineless piece of shit.”

Rodney slaps me again, harder this time, and I scream. “Stop it!”

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