Dysfunctional

Chapter 1 Dysfunctional

Lars POV

"Thank you for dropping me off, Quin. You owe me one", I sighed as we pulled up in front of my house.
Quinten flashed me his white teeth in a friendly smile, and held his hand up for a fist bump. "No problem."
I bumped my fist against his, snatched my backpack from the back seat of the hippie van Quinten drove, and got out after saying goodbye to my friend. Although he had dropped me off right in front of my house, I had to run to not get soaked by the rain as soon as I stepped foot outside.

"I'm home!" I blindly called out as I closed the door behind me and hung my damp jacket on the coat rack. Without untying the laces, I stepped on the back of my sneaker and squeezed my foot out. My mother did not reply to my greeting, meaning she was probably somewhere upstairs doing laundry.
"Hello, Lars."
I had to suppress a groan. Great, Jason was home. I missed the times where he still lived in his own house and only came over to bother me during the weekends. Now I had to bare the face of that guy almost every single day, and I had no idea how my mother could stand it, let alone desire it.
"Are you not going to greet me back?" my stepdad asked.
"I already greeted you first, didn't I?" I muttered as I grabbed a paper towel to blow my nose. The cold, wet autumn weather outside always made my nose runny and my hands dry.
"How was school?"
I threw the paper towel in the trash bin, and opened a cabinet to grab a cup.
"Terrific."
I cussed when the Sprite I had poured into the cup foamed too much and spilled on the counter. I grabbed another paper towel.
"Who was that guy who brought you home?"
Great, now my hands were sticky.
"Why do you care?"
"Because I'd fancy to know what kind of people my stepson is hanging out with, especially if they're folks like that."
I stopped halfway with my cup to my mouth. "What do you mean "folks like that"?"
Jason let out an awkward chuckle, and ran his hand over his face. "Lars, why are you associating with blacks?" he sighed.
My cup clattered into the sink. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. I don't feel safe with you riding in their cars."
Angrily I threw my hands up into the air. "Oh, great! So besides being a prick, you're also being a racist now? What's next? You can just as well shave your hair off and become a skinhead immediately!"
Jason was taken back for a second, but then slammed his hand on the kitchen counter. "Young man! Don't you dare speak to me like that! I already don't like those friends of yours, and you just had to cross another line and associate with... uncivilized folks like that. First that tranny, and now this? It's like you're doing it on purpose just to annoy your mom and I!"
"Keep mom out of this!" I yelled, "she doesn't care about who I hang out with! She likes Lilly, and she doesn't care that some of my friends aren't white. It's just that you apparently wasted all your brain cells on trying to get in my mom's pants, that now you've become too stupid to understand that not everyone is a boring white guy like you are."
Jason's big face grew red. "Now listen up, you little brat! As long as your mother and I are in a relationship, I am of the authority here and you will not speak to me that way!"
I rolled my eyes. Great, the "authority" argument again. I would bet my kidney on it that the word "respect" would now also drop soon.
"You should show a little respect for the man who provides for your ungrateful ass!"
Told you.
I couldn't stand being in a room with him anymore, so I just showed him a rude hand gesture and said over my shoulder: "Whatever, you fucking Nazi. Tell your friend Hitler I said hi."
"Son..!"
"Do not call me your son!" Whenever that damned word left his greasy lips, it was like he stroke a match and lit a red hot fire of hatred inside of me. "I hate it when you do that! How come you be so incredibly insufferable!?" I groaned, almost screamed in frustration, and before I could even think about it, my hand grabbed for the nearest plate and smashed it on the floor.

It had either been the sound of my angry voice, or the clattering of the plate shattering on the floor, but one of the two had alarmed my mother, as she came hurrying down the stairs only a few seconds later. Jason turned away and rubbed his face with his hand again as he shook his head in disbelief of the situation.
"Lars!" my mother squealed. "What happened? Did you smash that plate?"
I immediately shook her hand off when she tried to put it on my shoulder. "Jason was being insufferable again," I said through my clenched teeth.
My mother gave me a look that was a mixture of pity and disbelief. "Lars, you can't just go around breaking stuff like that."
"That little monster of yours needs to learn to control his temper, Amber."
"Me?!" I sputtered. "Who's the one insulting my friends here!? He was being racist towards Quinten, mom!"
"You shut your mouth now, young man", my mom said strictly. I hated that tone. I hated it so much. Until Jason had started living with us, it had been a rare thing that she spoke to me like that. Now it was a weekly occurrence. "I know that you two can't get along well, but there is no reason for false accusations here. Can't you two just please be nice for once? Lars, clean that up, now." She pointed at the shattered plate that laid by my feet. "And Jason, honey, could you come and help me out with the washing machine upstairs? It's being dysfunctional again, I can't get it to start."
"Not the only dysfunctional thing in this household", Jason huffed like a little kid. Luckily, my mom heard it and she gave him a strict look and a weak smack against his shoulder. I wished she hit him harder.
"Cut that out."