As we left the alley, Ryan scowled. "You were right about her not being motherly," he muttered aloud. I didn't reply and walked quickly down the street, hoping to put a bit of distance between myself and my mother's schemes. Ryan followed closely behind."Why were you following her anyways? It looked like you were listening in on something," he said.

I hesitated. "She was talking about something and it sounded important, but I'm not sure what it was about," I explained. "She said something about money and how there was a lot of it and she was going to get it soon. Also, something about a kid, but that didn't make any sense to me..."

Ryan thought for a minute. "Maybe she was talking about you," he suggested.

"I don't think so," I replied. "The man she was with said that there was close to 67,000 dollars or something. I don't have that much money and I know my dad doesn't. Even if he didn't tell me, I'd have found out. He's not good at keeping secrets."

We both went silent with thought after that, each of us trying and failing to come up with a reason my mother might be planning a money scam on someone. Neither of us said a word until we made it back to Ryan's place. Ryan pushed the door open, offering me entrance, and we both headed upstairs and into his bedroom.

While I leaned on the wall by his door, my arms crossed in deep contemplation, Ryan plopped down stomach first onto his bed. "Do you think she's planning something?" he asked.

"Well, obviously, but I don't know what," I said. "I wouldn't be surprised if it was something that had to do with my dad and I, but I doubt it. From what I picked up, it doesn't fit right."

He paused and I looked down at the floor in thought. "Does she have another son? Or a daughter?" he asked after a moment.

"Probably not. Her boyfriends were idiots, but they knew better than to get her pregnant. I don't think any of them had their own kids either, so that's out of the question," I said with a sigh.

Ryan sighed too and rested his head in his hands. "Maybe she wasn't talking about you at all. Maybe she was talking about someone else and you have nothing to worry about."

I made a small hm. "Maybe. I just don't know why she'd threaten me if it didn't have anything to do with me..." I murmured thoughtfully.

Ryan watched me for a moment before he got up and walked towards me, slipping his arms around my waist in comfort. "I don't know, but seeing you stressed makes me stressed." He pecked me on the cheek. "If you're really that scared, we could always run away together," he offered.

I rolled my eyes at him. "That is not realistic at all."

He chuckled and leaned into my ear. "Aw, come on..." he pressed. "Run away with me, Jacob..."

I shivered and pushed him back so I could see his face. "People would call me insane for turning down such a request," I said.

He grinned. "Does that mean it's a yes?" he asked.

"Nope," I said. As his bottom lip stuck out in disappointment, I untangled myself from his arms and headed for his door, calling, "I'll call you later!" before I left the house in the direction of home.

*******

My mom kissed my dad on the cheek as he opened the front door to leave for work, telling him to be safe on the road. I gave them a look of disgust and turned to go back upstairs with a scowl, wondering what the purpose of calling me downstairs had been if all they were going to do was be gross. I was just reaching the halfway point on the stairs when my mom called me. "Don't be rude, Jacob. Come say goodbye to your father," she said.

I rolled my eyes in annoyance and turned back towards my dad. "Bye," I said shortly.

My mother narrowed her eyes. "Properly," she demanded.

I turned my eyes on my mom, a chill going through the air. "Bite me," I said. "I'm going to my room."

This was how our mornings had been for the past week and a half, and they always ended with my dad saying, "Jacob, don't talk to your mother that way."

And me responding with, "Whatever."

Before finally, my dad lost his temper. "Outside. Now!"

I stormed past my dad and walked out onto the porch, my dad following and slamming the front door behind him so that my mother wouldn't hear us argue. He exploded as soon as the door was closed. "When will you stop this? You're being very immature!" he said.

"Me? She needs to lay off! I don't care if she's my biological mother, I don't take orders from a witch!" I hissed.

My dad's eyes flared at the insult. "You will respect your mother," he said.

"I will not!" I shouted back. "She doesn't deserve an ounce of respect!"

My dad purse his lips before he clenched his fists and glared at me. "This argument is over. You need to apologize to your mother," he told me.

"She needs to take a hike," I said.

My words were the last straw for my dad. He raised his hand as if to slap me and I stepped back in surprise, my eyes wide with fear. My dad realized his mistake and he growled in frustration, dropping his hand and clenching it by his side to release the angry he had almost released on me. "Go to your room. I don't want to speak with you until you apologize to your mom," he said.

"Like that's going to happen," I snorted.

"Your room, Jacob," my dad repeated with a warning to his tone.

My hands fisted at my sides. "Fine. But I can't wait much longer for you to finally see the monster you're protecting," I said. Then I shoved open the front door, not even caring that I almost hit my mom who had been obviously eavesdropping by the door, and stomped my way upstairs and into my room. I slammed the door with I resisted shout of rage. "God, why the hell doesn't anyone listen? Does my word not mean shit to anybody?! I'm part of this damn family too!" I yelled, hoping my dad heard me.

I kicked my bed frame and began to pace the length of my room. Maybe I could look for something to get my mom sent away, a reason to get a restraining order. If I was an adult, I wouldn't have any problem filing one, but as my parents are now back together, it was unlikely I would be able to get one by myself. Not even the counselors at school would help if they knew my parents were on good terms. Maybe I could plant some evidence to get her back into rehab. 

I was still plotting when my mother walked into my room, entirely uninvited as she leaned on the door frame with her arms crossed. "What did you say to your father?" she asked.

I turned to her and narrowed my eyes. "That you're nothing but a greedy witch who should just go to hell," I snapped angrily. "Get out of my room."

My mom laughed lightly at that like it was an insignificant threat. "Better keep that little mouth of yours shut or I'll close it myself. Permanently," she warned.

"Just try it. I dare you," I countered.

"Watch it," she said sharply. "I just might if you don't get yourself an attitude adjustment."

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes and turned away, going and grabbing my phone to play a game or something. Maybe she'd leave if I pretended she was the ghost she had been for the first ninety percent of my life.

This seemed to work. My mom took one last look around my room before she said, "You're dad told me to make sure you found your report card before he got home." Then she turned on her heel and walked out of my bedroom.

As much as I didn't want to do anything for my dad right then, my repost card was important to my dad and me, so I waited until my mom had entered my dad's room before I went downstairs and into my dad's study to search. If my report card was anywhere, it was in that mess of a room. That's where all the papers in the house go when we got mail and other miscellaneous objects. It would have to have been brought in here at some point to get lost.

I began sorting piles and looking through anything I could find that looked even remotely related to school. For the first half hour, I found nothing, the piles I'd looked through having been moved around to new places and making it hard to tell which ones I had looked at and which I hadn't yet. Then, as I was moving a book to another shelf, I spotted the familiar blueish paper sitting a few feet away on my dad's desk just under a large binder. I hurried over and picked it up, sighing in relief that my search was over. I could go back to pretending I didn't live in this house.

I was reading it when my hip bumped a folder in the same pile my report card had been in and the entire stack of papers went tumbling to the floor in a huge mess of letters and other stuff. I groaned and knelt to pick up the mess I had made. I was almost finished when an envelope with the bank seal on the front caught my eye. I don't know what compelled me to look and not just put it back in the pile I had found it in, but I picked up the envelope and opened it. Maybe it was because the outside of the folder read: 'Bank sums, 2001-2018'.

I skipped the first few years of the envelopes contents and read a couple of columns down, towards where the total sum was listed. It was adding up quickly between entire paychecks worth of savings to just a few dollars. I reached the current year and read down the page slowly until I got to a line that made my eyes widen.

'Account total: $68,549.'

*******

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