Accepting Fate - (Slums to Riches, Book one)

Chapter 3

Her wooden wolf-charm, about the size of her thumbnail, left its imprint on her palm as it dropped to the bed with a dull thud. Her eyes shot open, and she patted her blanket frantically until she clutched the charm in her fist again.

Robert sneered at her from the bedroom doorway. He had done the same the previous times her eyes refused to remain open.

After a symphony of snores filled the silent house, a door creaked, and the passage light clicked on. Robert stopped at her door long enough to question her sudden insomnia and the reason for the open door.

"If you sleep less during the day, you might sleep at night as well," she responded.

He stomped off to the kitchen and since then, patrolled the passage like a night watchman, glancing into the room each time he walked by. The perverted pig's eye never traveled higher than her chest. For that reason alone, she dressed in a baggy sweatshirt and track pants, inherited from Ty when he dropped out of school to chase a music career. It ended at a record store with a small recording studio in one of the back rooms.

By the time the first rays of sunlight chased back the darkness, her entire body ached, her throat burned, and her eyelids scratched her pupils each time she blinked. If she had not stayed alert for most of the night, she would have sworn someone dragged her through a desert. Twice.

Bob went back to his room, leaving her thirty minutes to stretch out on her bed and rest her tired eyes.

However, the reason she stayed awake never came to pass. All her siblings slept through the night, which increased her suspicions.

Angelique bolted off the bed at the first horrendous beep from Jamie's alarm clock, but then she sank to the edge of her bed with her fingers pressed to her temples. She remained in that position for five minutes before walking to the metal lockers separating her bed from Jenny's. After setting out clothes for Jenny, she ran her fingers through the soft, golden curls just visible above Jenny's thin, grey blanket. She helped the toddler dress and then went to the bathroom to wash her face with cold water so she could wake up.

On her way to the kitchen, to make breakfast, her eyes glanced over the noticeboard outside the boys' bedroom, like she did every morning. She stumbled to a stop and spun around for a second look.

She did not imagine the bold, red reminder of her driver's test that afternoon.

Angelique stumbled for a second time when Jamie walked into her.

"Did you fall asleep on your feet?" An unladylike snort followed the question.

If she paid less attention to her perfect, straight blond hair, which she was twisting into a perfectly straight braid, she would have seen Angelique standing in the passage. Yet, somehow, Angelique was wrong for standing in her way.

Jamie already wore a white blouse and red skirt—the uniform of The Grill. Jamie worked as a waitress and Angelique as a chef. The tips Jamie made each day added up to, and sometimes surpassed, the difference in their wages.

Unlike Jamie's, Angelique's uniform comprised a red shirt with the restaurant's logo across her tightly wrapped chest, and black slacks. Already expecting Robert's leering, beady eyes, she stayed in her tracksuit. She would change right before they left for work.

Instead of answering Jamie, she counted, "Three, two, one," and plugged her fingers into her ears when Jamie's eyes followed hers to the notice board. Though it dulled the high-pitched screech erupting from Jamie, her head started pounding all over again. It also drew the attention of all the other kids. The adults didn't care.