Paving Roads

Chapter Five

A/N: This chapter contains mild racial violence. The thoughts and views expressed here are not necessarily the views of the author; keep in mind this is a work of fiction.

Chapter Five

Ryan Spenters' Point Of View

''I'm still surprised she didn't ground you.''

''Why would she?''

''You stayed out till four A.M and came back with black hair. Why wouldn't she?''

Sarha leans back against her head board.

''There's nothing to even ground me from in this place.''

I roll my eyes at her. I love my sister more than anything, but that doesn't make her any less ridiculous.

''Where'd you go, anyway?''

''I told you. I went for a walk.''

''Do you really expect me to believe that?''

''Of course I do. You were never real good at analyzing in school.''

''I was never real good at anything in school.''

''You should just drop out.'' She laughs.

Should I tell her? I'm gonna tell her.

''I'm going to.'' She sits up straight, staring at me with her mouth hanging open in shock.

I regret everything.

''What?''

''I looked it up online.'' I say, and she scrunches her eyebrows in confusion.

''You need two and a half years of schooling, then you can drop out. I'm filling out the paperwork after first semester.''

''No. No, Ryan, you can't do that.''

''Why not?''

''You just... can't.''

''Give me one good reason.'' I press.

''No one's gonna hire a dropout.''

''No one's gonna hire a failure either.''

She doesn't say anything. I know I've got her stumped. It's no secret that I'm a failure, it never was. I've never been good at anything. The only class I've ever gotten higher than a D in was science, but I always pass that one, I'm good at it for some reason.

Sarha abruptly stands up and walks towards the door.

''Hey! Where are you going?'' I ask, and she turns to look me directly in the eyes.

''I'm going for a walk.''

She leaves the room, slamming the door behind her.

***

Ara Fussili's Point Of View

''Something smells good.'' My father's voice behind me makes me jump, and within seconds makes my stomach turn.

''Are you baking cookies, Ara?'' I spin on my heels to face him.

God, I hate that stupid hat.

''No, I'm cooking lobster that smells like cookies. Can't you tell by the open box of chocolate chip cookie mix and greased cookie sheets?'' I reply sarcastically.

''Cute. Why are you baking?''

I roll my eyes. I hate him. He's ridiculous.

''I was planning on bringing them to the family across the street; the one who just moved in. But if you're in the mood for lightly burned desserts, you can have them,'' I smile. ''I know how you like to take things from middle class people.''