Good Boy Ryker [COMPLETED]

Chapter 11: The Alley

Chapter 11

"How was school, sweetheart?" My mother said sweeping a pair of blonde locks out of her eyes.

"It was fine," I mumbled leaning down and planting a kiss upon her rosy cheeks. "Mathletes went swell I'm excited." I truthfully admitted.

"That's fantastic sweetie."

Mom placed her hands on my chest and smiled before stepping backwards and slipping into her house slippers. I stood upright and clutched my back pack strap thinking about all the homework I had to complete. My mom hadn't cooked a delicious meal today –which was fine – I was more than capable of feeding myself.

"Ryker did you by any chance happen to touch my stereo?" My mom wondered toying with her old radio. Her eyebrows knitted together and she examined her stereo.

I don't think I touched her stereo.

Or at least I don't believe I did.

"Nope." I responded.

"Hm, maybe I tampered with it some time ago." Mom said turning on one of her favorite stations. She reached for the duster and began dusting her old radio off.

I kicked off my, knock off Nike, shoes and tucked them into the shoe rack before heading for the stairs. Clutching one backpack strap, as the other strap hung loosely around my back, I gripped onto the railing almost heading up the stairs two at a time.

Then I remembered that I should probably ask my mom if I can hang out with Devyn Saturday.

My mom was, nonetheless, pretty strict. I was always the person who had an, absurdly early curfew that required me to be home before the local evening news aired. I was not even given that opportunity to make live, local late breaking news for acting a fool because I was stuck in my bedroom. I didn't even get the opportunity to experience a sleepover unless it was taking place in my home, under my parents' supervision. At the time it felt uncomfortable and restricting but now I realize that my parents & their stern rulebook had my best interest in mind, even if they seemed/were like prison wardens. Yes, there may be a better middle ground but big picture, I'd take your carefully guarded upbringing over having Matilda-esque, crappy, uncaring parents, any day.

So I don't exactly know how I'm going to persuade her to hang out with a rebellious girl all day.

I swallowed my spit, my mouth suddenly dry. Turning on my heel, I breathed out heavily. How would I even word it? Setting my backpack on the stairs, I watched as my mom began sweeping the floor with the broom as she hummed an old Bruno Mars song.

"Hey mom?" I shouted over the ear-piercing music. My mother instantly stopped sweeping and turned the volume down.

"Is everything okay. Ryker?" She wondered her hazel eyes scanning mine.