Pull Out My Insides

I smirk maliciously to myself as I leave her house, but as I do it, a real smile graces itself uninvited on my face. Damn face. I admit it, while we were talking the whole time, I wasn’t really thinking of the bet; I was thinking of how the littlest things make her laugh and smilegorgeously. God, that smile… it’s brighter than a thousand suns and more beautiful than the death of said thousand suns. What the hell is happening to me?

My head shakes quickly, as if to rid myself of these thoughts, and put in the previous ones, the ones of bringing her down and making her an even worse laughing stock than she was before, how she deserves. Right? Yes; definitely. I need to act quickly, though, seeing as I only have two weeks left. Actually, when you think of it, two weeks is no time, especially when you’re me. In no time, she’ll be agreeing to a date, and then more, and then more, and then bam; it’ll be done. She’ll be done.

I walk into the door and see my brother at the table, bent over a table full of bills and a bottle of pain relievers next to him (for the headaches he gets).

“Fuck,” he mutters.

Oh, no. This can’t be good.

“Well, Asher, you’ve gotta say goodbye to your phone and TV because right now, we can’t afford it. Hell, we can barely afford anything,” he says to me, not even looking up at me, sensing me there.

“I told you I’m looking for a second job. But no one wants to hire a teenager with school and another job to work.”

He just sighs.

“I know, It’s just… things have been so stressful since… you know. And you don’t need to be working two jobs at 17 to support yourself. And I don’t need to be working two jobs and doing odd jobs on the side at 22 to support my brother and me. I just wish that Mom and Dad didn’t choose to keep the money put away until you’re of age, because we need the damn money now so that we can stay off the streets and have something to eat. But just the electricity and gas and water are enough to pay for,” he says, running his hands through his thick hair.

“Have you ever thought about… ya know… asking for money from people or something?”

But he just lets out a bitter laugh. “Asher, you know as well as I do that I would rather work my fingers to the bone and die than ask someone for money. You know us Ramsays and our pride.”

I let out a cold chuckle. “Yep. Too damn prideful.”

“Got that right. Now go do your homework.”

I groan, not wanting to do my homework.

“I don’t want to.”

And he finally looks over at me, revealing a stern, tired look.

“Asher, you better do your damn homework so that you can get good grades and get a scholarship so that you can get into a good college and get a good job and not end up like me, working two jobs with you working a job as well, and we’re still only hanging by the skin of our fingers. I can’t afford to pay for your college tuition, and I’m not sure if what Mom and Dad left is enough, so you need to get a scholarship to a good college and you need to do your damn homework. So go,” he says without breaking contact or batting an eyelash.

So I obediently march upstairs and take out my homework with a sigh, putting my earbuds in and starting on my homework. This is the life.