Page 33 of Jacob

The English section always tripped her up. The large paragraphs with their underlined sentences meant to test her comprehension and grammar were her Achilles heel. Why couldn’t she just focus on math? She breezed through math.

Running her fingers through her hair, she reread the sentence for the fifth time. The story about Emily and her mom baking pies wouldn’t resonate with her. She couldn’t retain the information. By the time she got to the questions, she couldn’t remember if they used then or than or why anyone would use one or the other.

She groaned. With a thump, her head fell against the table. Wasting her time in a remedial English class would delay her plans and would just cost her money. She needed to make money, not spend it.

Deciding she needed to finish this test and stop feeling sorry for herself, she pulled her head up, checking the phone. “Fuck.” Wasted another five minutes, and she still had thirty questions to do. This time, she really tried to focus on reading the paragraph.

VRRRRRR.

The vibrating phone interrupted her.

Unknown caller.

She dismissed it. She didn’t have time for a scam call about her car warranty.

VRRRRRR.

The vibration made concentrating on the paragraph that much harder.

She dismissed it again.

Emily chopped the apples then—VRRRRRR.

“God-motherfucking-damnit!” Sparrow tapped the phone. “So help me, someone better be fucking bleeding out in the goddamn street.”

“Hey baby, what’s going on?” Pipes slurred on the other end of the line.

“Are you home?” she asked, pushing away from the table.

“Naaaahhhh,” he drew it out as though he were taking a long hit off a joint. “Soon though.”

Her gaze went to her test and all the unanswered questions. “I’m in the middle of a practice exam.”

“I miss you,” he groaned. It wasn’t a pain-filled groan. It wasn’t the kind he used when he stretched or when his knee bothered him. However, she was quite familiar with that particular groan. She’d heard that intimate utterance a time or two in private with him.

The idea that he’d call her while he—when she was in the middle—she couldn’t even complete the thought in her own mind. “Can I call you back?”

“I just wanted to hear you,” he hissed into the phone. “Just talk to me.”

Rolling her eyes, she pressed the button and tossed it onto the table. “Fuck you,” she growled as the rage rumbled through her. She pushed up from her chair and balled her fingers into fists. She pumped through the air, shadowboxing as though he were standing before her.

VRRRRRR.

She cut her eyes to the phone.

He had to be fucking kidding.

She shook her head. She wasn’t answering that shit. Adjacent to the overturned phone was the slip of paper. Her gaze landed on her test. Thirty questions and maybe ten minutes.

Motherfucker.

Between Jacob and the lollipops, studying for her test, and now Pipes calling her while he got a damn blow job on the road, she needed a goddamn drink. Why in the hell did she put up with this shit?

“Who the fuck do you think you are, Dixie?” Her father’s voice boomed through the house so loud it ripped Sparrow from her twelve-year-old dreams.

“You can screw whatever offers, but I can’t flirt a little?” her mother countered.

The scuffle in the other room should have told Sparrow to stay in her own room. However, her curiosity had her creeping down the hall of their ranch. She crouched behind an armchair and peered into the kitchen where her parents seemed to be locked into some sort of standing wrestling match.

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