Spark ( Book 3: Stronger Series )

38. Idiot

I couldn't believe this bullshit. All I wanted to do was take Camaro out on the snow-covered balcony so she could go to the bathroom, but no, I had to be stuck here, cleaning up her puppy pads like it was my most favorite thing to do. The second I stepped through the door to the balcony, those two airheads came barging in, barking at me to back away from the door.

I'd thought for a second there might be an actual threat, but when they asked why I'd opened the door and I answered them, that was when all hell broke loose. I was ready to kick Romero in the teeth for how stupid I thought his interpretation of Darren's rules was, but that would have only landed me in more trouble. I was grateful Darren didn't at least undermine me in front of them; that would have been too embarrassing. But the fact that I was being forced to stay here until my lunch before I could go out confirmed who had won that little battle. And that, in and of itself, was fucking embarrassing. I hated being treated like a child, and the more freedom I got, the harder it was to deal with when it was taken away.

Staring at the hands of my new Rolex, I watched the time go by slower than ever. The longer I watched the hands, the more pissed off I became. If Alex and Romero hadn't barged in, I'd be outside already, doing what I wanted to do. Didn't they know I could fuck their world up? I was not someone they wanted on their bad side because I could make their lives hell if I wanted to.

And fuck them. I would.

Until then, I decided to get a little exercise and pulled out the hacky sack Scott had gotten me for Christmas. I bet the asshole didn't even know I knew what the damn thing was in the first place. I plugged in my iPod, turned on some old-school Nelly, and stood in the middle of the room. I dropped the sack to my ankle and immediately started kicking it with the side of my foot, watching it bounce eye level in the air. Back and forth from one foot to the next, I kicked the hacky sack for what felt like hours. It was honestly a fun little game that kept my foot-eye coordination and reflexes intact. I could kick it over my shoulder then back over with the ball of my foot, stall it on my chest, bounce it on my knee, switch feet midair, even scorpion kick the damn thing and have it land on the top of my foot.

Camaro was so engaged; she kept barking and jumping up to catch the sack. I knew if it landed in her mouth, she'd rip it to shreds, so I played Keep-Away for a while. She was fun to play with, and she made the game far more challenging with her running around.

Some time later, my lunch finally came. Romero held the silver tray in his hands as he walked around me still hacking the sack and set the tray on the table. I ignored him as he regarded me still playing and stalled the sack at the top of my chest.

"Well, look at you. You can balance a sack on your tits. That's adorable," he commented.

"Oh, fuck off, Romero," I said, my eyes watching the sack as I pushed my chest forward and kicked it again as it fell toward my foot. I was still pissed at him.

I could feel him walking toward the door, but as he came up next to me, just when I was about to kick the sack midair, he swatted it right out of my path, knocking it to the ground. And that was when I did the smart thing, rechambered my leg, and side kicked him right in the ribs and knocked him on his ass to the floor. Romero fell with a loud thud, his face shocked and confused as his hand wrapped around his side.

"What the fuck!" he shouted from the floor.

"That's what you get for being an asshole all the time!" I shouted.

"How the fuck?" he whispered under his breath as he stared up at me.

I shrugged. "What's the matter? Didn't expect that from a pipsqueak shortcake like me?"

Romero stood, his hand still clutching his side as he glared at me.

"I'll have your outdoor privileges removed," he threatened, his finger pointing at me.