Chapter 14 - Family Troubles

Leanne’s POV

I slam the tennis ball back against the wall with my racquet, channeling some of my pent-up energy into the swing. The ball comes bouncing back, and I hit it again. And again. And again.
Nothing but me and the tennis ball. All of my energy is devoted into keeping the pattern going and doing it as well as I possibly can. I use forehand, backhand, any stroke you can name. Anything to keep my game going.
Eventually I slow down and stop. I put my hands on my knees, and breathe heavily.
Tennis is the reason I love summer. Leo loves it because he can go around barefoot, and we both like swimming to some extent. But tennis is my main reason why I love summer. It keeps me sane while being cooped up with my family for three months.
I can’t play all day – I still have to prepare dinner – so I check my watch. It’s almost 5 already, so I grab my racquet and tennis ball and head home.
It’s gotten really warm out lately, a sure sign that my birthday is coming. Only eight more days. Well, you can’t really count today, so I guess it’s seven.
My birthday makes me think about the warning Mom gave me. “On your birthday, the one who you are currently dating is supposed to die. Someone will kill them, she didn’t say who.”
And Mom also told me that “she” is Telsa. And that Telsa is my aunt.
Aunt though she may be, I still hate her. I hate everything about her. Heck, I hate the very fact that we’re related!
I walk angrily down my road when I see a dark, fancy sports car pull up to Telsa and Rob’s house. What are they doing with people who are rich enough to own that car?
But then the owners get out. It’s Uncle Howard and Aunt Catelyn, complete with my least favorite cousin, Alexandria. They are definitely rich enough to own that car. And they’re related to Telsa and Rob. Of course.
Sometimes I hate my family.
I run off before I can see any more. When I get home, I’m so angry that before I can even begin making a meal, I have to go up to my room and have a screaming match with myself. Of course, I win – that’s what I love about competing with myself. I always win.
The satisfaction of victory settled, I head downstairs to start dinner. Tonight I‘m making a seafood salad – one of my personal favorites. But then I open the fridge and my nose curls up in disgust. Something or other’s gone bad. And my heart sinks with the heaviness of dismay and frustration as I realize that it’s my fish that’s gone bad.
“Leo!” I scream, hoping he’s at home so I can make him go to the store and get more salmon. But there’s no reply. I scream his name a few more times before giving up. He’s not here. Mom’s out at work, so I can’t ask her. I really don’t feel like getting it myself, either.
Well, time for a change of plans, then!
For starters, I throw out the rotten fish. Next step: peruse the fridge for something I can make edible. Ah ha! Sausage! I eagerly pull it out, check the expiration date – still good – and place it on the countertop.
I move over to the pantry, and search for good bread. At least nothing’s gone bad in here. Well…I could always just take normal breakfast bread and make some toast. Or! I’m suddenly hit with inspiration. I could make pasta. Yes, that’s a good idea. Pasta, sausage, salad. I‘m liking the sound of this. I happily find enough pasta to feed us for tonight, and begin cooking.
Midway through this whole process, Leo comes home. “There you are, snooper!” I yell at him. I still haven’t forgiven him for looking at my computer without my permission.
“I’m sorry, okay?!” he says, sounding exasperated, tired, and kind of…scared? What’s up with that?
“What’s your problem?” I say, but he’s already left for his room. And his music, no doubt.
Just to make my day worse, as I’m about to put food on the table, the phone rings. Before I can grab it, Leo gets it from upstairs. I sigh, and begin serving dinner. Then Leo comes down and says, “Mom’s working late tonight. She can’t come home for dinner. I’ll take my plate up to my room, thanks.” He grabs a plate from the counter and walks off.
“You’re welcome!” I yell after him, getting ready to settle into a lonely meal by myself.
After I eat, I begin to clean things up. Just as I finish loading the dishwahser, Mom comes in. “Hey Leanne!” she says, hugging me. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t home for dinner. Did you save me some food?”
“Uh, yeah, over there on the counter,” I say absently. I hear Mom thank me, and seat herself at the table. The sausage and pasta is cold, but she probably doesn’t care. I don’t. I climb up to my room and sit at my desk for a bit, thinking. Just thinking. And I’m hit with the urge to draw again. I pull out my pad of paper, and begin sketching something – looks like a guy with a gun.
The doorbell rings, and we all go over to get it. Mom gets there first, however, and just because the world seemingly wants me to have a bad day, it’s Uncle Howard and Aunt Catelyn. With bratty Alexandria in tow. Mom welcomes them in, with many an “excuse the mess”. They don’t seem to care – except for Alexandria. Then Leo abandons me – he’s acting weird tonight – and I’m stuck with her.
She looks down at me critically for a while, and then finally, she speaks. “Don’t you ever use a straightener on your hair?”
Straighteners. Please. Don’t remind me.
I can’t help but remember the Straightener Incident. Tanya and I had decided to straighten our hair at her house. I did hers first – so far, everything was fine. She looked great. Then it was my turn. By the time we were done, something had clearly gone wrong. To this day, neither of us have figured out what exactly happened. My hair was a frizzy mess. And it didn’t go away for another two days. Enough time for the entire school to laugh at my terrible hair.
I’ve never touched a straightener since.
So I tell the bratty little girl in front of me, “Don’t you ever keep your trap shut? I might have a very good reason for leaving my hair as is.”
She puffs up. The look on her face makes my want to burst out laughing. “You can’t talk to me like that! I’m going into high school, for your information. Therefore, I’m older and more mature than you are, midget!”
No one calls me a midget and lives to tell the tale. “Newsflash – I’m already in high school. And don’t judge a book by its cover, little girl, because I could kick your @$$ so bad you’d need to go to the E.R.” A big exaggeration, but it’s worth it to drive her nuts.
“Well then, my Dad could pay for all the expenses, easy! Unlike you. Especially since you don’t have a dad. And then we’d sue you once I got out of the E.R. – again, unlike you. You could try, but you’d never win. My dad has money on his side. And money never loses.”
I explode. “Y’know who never loses!? Me! Me, okay?! And if you talk about my dad like that one more time I’ll-!”
“You’re wrong! I never lose. And I’ll talk about anyone any way I want – I have money, remember? Money can do anything.”
“Oh yeah? Well it’s not your money, it’s your dad’s.”
“So? If it’s his, it’s mine.”
“Well then,” I say softly, closing in on her face. “If money can do anything, bring back my father. Your uncle. Try using money for that.”
She waits a second, smiles, then says, in an equally quiet voice, “Why would I want to do that?”
I snap, and bring my fist straight into her right eye. She screams, and runs out into the dining room to the adults. “You’ll pay for that, Leanne Jacobson!” she yells back at me.
I yell to her, “Make me!”

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