I Hate You

CHAPTER 05: Rumors

"Where did that thousand dollars go?" My mother's voice sounded on the other side of the door.

I had grown the motivation to stand up and head home after a couple of minutes or so. Now, I wish I had just stayed in the creepy alley. My pants were covered in dry mud, and my apron from the diner was still on, I was a mess.

I was outside the door to the entrance of my house, and I could already hear the yelling of my mom and dad.

"Kent! Where did that money go?" My mom yelled at him again. "You better have it! Our daughter worked hard to get that!"

I knew that my father had spent it. He had gone out last night after Matthew stopped by and didn't get home until at least 4 a.m. I had tried to hide it of course, telling my mom. She knew where it was, I guess that's why she knew it was missing. My "genius" idea was to hide it in this one flower pot in the dirt. But somehow, somehow, my father found it when I went to bed. My father was money crazy, when he saw any spare money, his eyes lit up at the sight. He just didn't get the same joy doing other things, like being with my mom and I. It was a problem, I knew it was. It was like a different type of addiction.

Just when I thought fake dating Matthew Green would help keep my family together, it just caused more problems. Why must everything depend on money? Food, shelter, water, heat, everything. You need money to survive. Matthew and I hadn't even actually begun on the fake dating thing, besides that one date, and that kiss. I wish my family was rich like all the others.

Living in the rich part of Los Angeles, California, comes with downsides. Such as everybody being filthy rich, besides me. My family and I haven't been a part of that group ever since we moved here when I was 5. There are two parts, the upper class area, which is like 95% of the city. Then there is the lower class, the 5%, the "poor" kids. We aren't completely poor. We aren't homeless or anything. We just don't have what they have.

My dad always said that we just had to trust him. That one day, he would come home with millions from the casino, and we would be happy for the rest of our lives. Well, ever since he started gambling, we have done nothing but lose money, a lot of money.

"I'm sorry! I saw it and I just couldn't help myself!" My dad yelled back.

"It was in a flower pot, Kent. A flower pot!"

"You could see something sticking out of the dirt!"

"People don't just randomly go through the dirt of flower pots! You were looking for something! Anything to gamble with! It's one thing to waste the money I've earned, but our daughter's? What do you think she is going to say when she finds out?"

"Listen, I'll get the money back. Just give me-"

"Don't worry about it." I interrupted. They were so engrossed in their argument that they didn't even hear me open the front door.

My parents turned to me, jumping at the sound of my voice. My mother's face was bright red with anger, and her bun that was normally neatly on the top of her head was falling out. My father, on the other hand, was in his pajamas and still had shaving cream over the beard that had failed to grow in completely.

The two were quite a sight. My father was a pretty petite man in height, being a little over a foot smaller than your wife never really was anything to brag about. Dad was a pretty large, overweight guy. He had a bald head and had been trying to grow a beard for years, but it always came out patchy. My mother was a tall woman with long legs. She had gorgeous black locks, something I inherited from her, and a wonderful figure. My mom surely was the model type.

Mom was always tidy, the opposite of dad. My dad was a slob. Everywhere he went, he left messes of pizza, soda cans, dirty plates, and I could go on and on. It drove my mother crazy. I'm not going to lie. If my husband did that, I would be mad too.