Page 10 of Things I Wish I Said
She recoils at my words. I should feel bad, but I don’t because I’m so damn mad. I’m so fucking pissed all the damn time, I can’t take it anymore.
“It’s not like that, Grayson, and you know it. I’m worried about you. I have been ever since—”
“Don’t fucking say it!” I snap.
“Losing your father like that is a lot for a seventeen-year-old to handle, and I know how close you were. The two of you were thick as thieves, and now he’s gone, and I know you’re clinging to baseball because it was something you shared,but—”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I clench my jaw until my teeth ache, trying to calm my racing heart. “I love baseball, and not just because of Dad.”
I love it more than the fucking air in my lungs or the blood in my veins, which is why it makes no sense to me I’m threatening to fuck it all up with my behavior.
And if it doesn’t make sense to me, how the hell can it make sense to her?
“Then why are you so hell-bent on throwing it all away? Because you realize that’s what you’re doing, right?”
I say nothing, unable to answer.
Ihavebeen pissing my dreams away, and no matter how much I try, how much I resolve to do better, I can’t seem to stop.
“Come work for me,” she says again.
“No,” I choke out. “I’m not working for the charity. Even if they pull the rug out from under my feet, and I lose my scholarship, I won’t work for Wishing Well. I won’t. I refuse.”
“And what will you do then? Pay for school without a scholarship?”
“I’m good for it.”
Mom snorts. “You can’t use Monopoly money, Grayson. This is the real world. You’d need loans and a cosigner and—”
“I have a trust fund.”
“Yeah.” Mom nods. “One I will release to you once you finish school. Or work four years at Wishing Well.”
I laugh, the sound as bitter as it feels in my chest. “Unbelievable.”
“Why would I give you access to your trust fund if you lose your scholarship? So you can piss it all away on drugs and booze?”
I chortle. “That would be one helluva party.”
“I’m serious, Grayson.”
I sigh and drag a hand down my face. “This conversation is over, not to mention pointless because I won’t get dropped. I’ll make sure of it,” I say with far more confidence than I feel.
Even I know I’m slipping.
I’ve had several close calls with the po-po over the last couple of months already, and that was before last night. Considering I don’t see my behavior changing any time soon, Mom’s probably right. It’s only a matter of time before I’m with Dustin or one of his crew in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I’ll go down with them.
“What if I make you a deal?” Mom fidgets with a broken cookie on the rack, peeking up at me with tear-filled eyes, and I stiffen.
Fuck.
I hate tears. It seems unfair she would wield them right now to get what she wants.
“What?” I eye her warily, bracing my hands on the counter in front of me.
“You know your father wanted you involved with Wishing Well. It’s not just me.”
I nod, my jaw tight. “He also wanted me to play baseball.”
