Page 2 of Fight for Me

I shake my head with a sigh and take my phone out of my back pocket. “Give me your number then.”

Claire recites it giddily, bouncing on her feet like a child who’s about to go on her first ride at an amusement park. After I install her number on my phone under the name “weird girl”, I measure her with an unimpressed look. “Rule number two – curb your enthusiasm and keep it cool. There’s only so much of your energy I can take on a daily basis.”

Claire stops her bouncing at once and with a fake uninterested face looks at her nails and shrugs. “Yeah, sure, I can be cool.”

I snort and move around her before throwing off my shoulder, “See ya later, weird girl!”

“Bye, bestie!” She yells after me and causes everyone to look in my direction as I walk away.

I turn back the music on my headphones and cover the distance from school to my street in no time. The whole way, I’ve been fantasizing about what my life would look like if I had someone fighting in the same corner as me. Someone I could depend on. Someone I could trust.

Could Claire be that person?

The fantasy ends abruptly when I reach my house and see that damn car in the driveway. A sense of doom envelops me, making me lose that extra bounce in my step.

There’s no way someone could carry all that burden with me. It’s too heavy, and no one deserves to be touched by my shitty life.

But maybe I could keep a friend like Claire, and still keep the shit from spilling out.

Yes, that’s what I’ll do.

CHAPTER I

JENNY – 16 YEARS OLD

A silent thank-you leaves my lips when I see there’s no police car parked in front of my house. My home is completely silent as I enter, so I drop my backpack on my bed and go through the back into the garden, knowing I will probably find my mom working on her flowerbeds.

I spot her kneeling between gardenias, digging in the dirt with her bare hands. She’s half-turned toward me, so I don’t see her face fully, but I can assume what she’s hiding under the big straw hat and giant sunglasses.

The sounds of breaking glass and her whines still resonate in my brain from this morning’s fight taking place in our kitchen. Some people would probably call me a coward for it, but I slipped through the back door before my father noticed my presence – I already missed enough school because of that asshole. There will be other opportunities for him to get his frustrations out on me.

When the gravel crunches under my feet, my mom flinches slightly, but relaxes when she sees that it’s only me approaching her.

She graces me with a smile and motions for me to join her.

“Hi Jenny, how was school?”

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