Page 3 of Careless

When they say it's the most important meal of the day, they mean it, and I take that very seriously. I always eat a good amount of protein for breakfast or I am sluggish all day long. I need my energy for school, and getting through the grueling dance practice Coach Hatcher puts us through.

“Morning, sweetheart,” my dad mutters as he drags himself into the kitchen. He scratches his fingers through his salt and pepper hair then does the same to his matching stubble. Pulling out the chair at our small kitchen table, he takes a seat in front of the plate I prepared for him. “Thank you. What are you doing up so early?” he asks, like he has no idea what today is.

During the summer, I sleep in on days when I have nothing to do, but I don’t have that luxury during the school year.

“It's the first day of school, Dad. Senior year,” I explain as I plop down and stab my fork into my eggs.

“You don't need to be so hard on yourself, Sor. You can take a day off from your workouts every once in a while.” His icy blue eyes meet mine over the rim of his coffee cup. I purse my lips. My dad means well, but he doesn't understand. How could he? He’s physically fit and joins me when I work out more for vanity than health. If he would just stop drinking…

My brother is the same way. Both of them have high metabolisms and work out for the sake of six packs, not to regulate their weight. They don't understand my struggle.

My dad says the doctors think my health issues were caused by my mom's drug problems when she was pregnant with me—she couldn't stay clean. It's possible, but I won't dwell on the cause. I like to focus on the solution.

This is an issue that I will have to deal with for the rest of my life and I fear the day when I’m no longer able to keep up with my regime. I don't want to become disabled due to my weight when I get older .

“We need a new microwave.” I veer the subject in a different direction, eyeing the worthless box.

“I'll fix the turntable after breakfast,” he comments and follows my gaze to the counter.

That's his motto for almost everything.

I'll fix it.

He only buys replacements as a last resort.

I fork more eggs into my mouth to keep from saying anything. I know it will get me a lecture. He must see the irritation on my face because the lecture comes, nonetheless.

“The easiest way isn’t always the best. We have more than we need, Sorcha. Our fridge is always full. We have running water, air conditioning, and a roof over our heads. We buy everything weneedand nothing more. If more people in this fucked-up world lived the way we do, it would be a much better place. I give whatever money I have left over at the end of the month to those who need it more than us. We all make sacrifices for the greater good, and that's the way it's supposed to be. You work as hard as you can, and help those less fortunate.” The points he makes are valid, but after getting this lecture numerous times over the years, I tune him out.

I've offered in the past to pay for stuff like this, but he refuses to accept the help.

“I got the reminder for your appointment this afternoon with Dr. Garza. You'll need to go there right after practice,” he says before taking a bite of his oatmeal.

I shovel the last of my eggs into my mouth. “Thanks, Dad. I need to take a shower,” I say with the least amount of spittle as possible. After rinsing and putting my plate in the dishwasher, I grab my water bottle and pause in the doorway to glance back at my dad. He’s already busy on his phone, probably looking up how to fix our shitbox of a microwave. It makes me smile, how he’s always looking out for everyone but himself. Sure I get annoyed with him every now and then but I wouldn’t change anything about him.

* * *

“Hey, girl, hey!”Kia cheers as she practically knocks me over when she suddenly appears beside my locker.

Kia has been my best friend since she moved to Grove Hill two years ago. She knows everything about me, including details about who my family is. She's even been to my house a few times, but still hasn't met my dad.

“Morning,” I say with a genuine smile.

“Sor, your brother is smoking hot,” Kia says as she fans herself and slumps against the lockers.

It takes everything in me not to gag at her words.

“Kia! He's my brother!”

“Even better! If I marry him, we would be sisters! Besides, you’re used to skanks throwing themselves at him like he’s Casanova reincarnate. Face the facts, Sor. Everyone wants to fuck your brother,” she sasses.

“Are you calling yourself a skank?” I tease right back. “Sorry to break it to you, but he seems to be smitten with another.”

Kia stares at me, confused. “What do you mean? I never see him with the same girl twice.”

I have no clue how everyone is so oblivious, or maybe I pay close attention to my brother.

“Look!” I insist.

---