You Can't Hurt Me

Not all people with ADHD fail in school!?!!!???

Smoke gathered in the air, twirling and dancing as they exited the mens lungs, flowing out the window, small orange hue admitting from the cigarette's loosely placed in their mouths. Race was watching the poker game, too young to truly participate but old enough to start getting it. Sometimes he would pick someone he believed should win, and he would whisper them suggestions. But right now Race was silent, just scanning, watching where they go wrong and where he went right.

His mother had just died 3 months ago, and it seemed that was either all anyone talked about, or the subject was forbidden by law to even mention. Usually from his lips it was, yet he was the one who spoke most often.

"Hey Antonio, did you finish your camp homework?" Of course Race didn't. That was stupid, homework was stupid, it was just some stupid drawing they were going to hang. Race scoffed, rolling his eyes, quite visibly.

"That's stupid dad, of course not."

His dads jaw clenched, and he ran his hands through his hair, his friends around him beginning to look among themselves.

"For that attitude, go to your room."

"Oh no! My room! With the computer! How terrible." He got up, and slammed the door.

His dad rubbed at his eyes, dark circles rimmed around the edges.

Joe, his buddy, one who would die much later from a gun shot in every limb, stubbed out his cigarette, "you oughta smack him for talkin like that, my girls get the belt for any attitude, builds character."

Race's dad wrung his hands, "I don't know, I can't hurt him. He's just my boy, he's only been doing that since his mom died."

Larry, another friend of his who passed away, only this time from Cocaine abuse spoke up, "you could always set up a time out spot. The closet? Teaches them there'll be consequences for their actions."

Race's dad winced, "don't you think that's a little harsh?"

"Sometimes it's what you gotta do."

Race's ear pressed against the door, heard every word and shivered. He was glad his dad wasn't like these scumbags.

Soon enough, their poker game was over. All of them loosing any spending money they had, including his dad. Loosing it all too Getho, who still was around today, but got his skull cracked one too many times and often was described as bonkers.

When Race came back out, dinner was ready and on the table. They sat in silence, eating their beans and rice before Race slammed down his fork midway.

"This taste like crap."

His dad scowled, "you try putting food on the table every day."

"Mom made the best food."

"Well I'm not your damn mother Antonio, finish your food."

"You're right, she wasn't a complete bastard like you are."

The very thin rope Race's dad had been upholding snapped, like a fine fishing wire and he stood up, pushing the table back into Race's body, spilling the Pepsi all over him.

Race gasped in surprise, ice freezing him all over, and stood up.

"What the hell dad!"

Race's dad grabbed his ear, pulling it as Race tried to pry it off, wimpering a bit.

He made a quick decision, one that would haunt the rest of Race's life, something that he would never forget, not till the very day he died. He shoved him into their closet, locked the door, and walked out.