Try Me | klance

《8》

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"¿Dónde chingados estabas? (Where the fuck were you?)" Lance's mother seethed. "¿Quien te crees que eres? (Who do you think you are?)"

Lance sighed. He had forgotten about this -his angry mother- while he was with Keith. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

Lance's mother raised her hand and pulled down on Lance's ear. She dragged him by his ear all the way to his room. His head pulled down, Lance winced- fuck, she's gonna yank off my ear!

"Te vas a quedar aquí, (You are going to stay here,)" Mother said, her eyebrows so high up on her forehead and her eyes wide with anger. A deep frown carved in her tan skin. "Y vas a limpiar todo. Estas castigado. No puedo creer que- ¿Dónde estabas? (And you are going to clean everything. You're grounded. I can't believe- Where were you?)" She asked a in stern voice.

      Lance started thinking quickly for excuses, his eyes shifting around, looking around his room, when he realized that he could just tell he truth.

     "Estaba en la biblioteca... estaba trabajando en un proyecto... que es para mañana. (I was at the library... working on a project... for tomorrow)" Lance said, his voice calm and firm, not wanting to make her scream again.

        "¿Ah, si? (Oh, really?)" Mother mocked, "Para la siguiente vez, haces tu trabajo a tiempo y luego no vas tener que estar trabajando todo apurado. ¡Ahora limpia! (Next time, do your work on time and maybe you won't have to be working in a hurry. Now clean!)"

      She started walking away, muttering, "Ay, si. Que conveniente... (yeah, right. How convenient...)"

      Lance's ear was sore from the harsh tug. He rubbed it gently and winced.

**

    It was 9:47 pm and Lance was tired. He wanted to take a shower and go to sleep. He had been practically locked up in his room for two hours. But the lights were still on in the kitchen and he didn't want to risk going out into the hallway and getting yelled at. Goddamn it, you are literally 17 years old..., Lance told himself.

    His room was small. No clothes were thrown at the feet of the bed; no papers flying everywhere. Everything was organized and neat. Two twin beds on opposite sides of the room. He shared the room with his brother, but... where was Mike, actually?

     Lance assumed he was with his sister, helping her clean her room. But... it was almost ten, and Mike was very punctual and organized (Lance suspects he might have mild OCD but none of his parents cared enough to actually find out) and he would not have missed his bed time: 9:30 pm.

     Suddenly, Lance heard the front door open. Dad's home. Lance really just wanted to go to sleep.

      "Hola, papi.(Hello, dad.)" Mike's voice shouted. Oh, so he's out there?

       Lance didn't hear his dad respond, so he's drunk?

     "¿Por que llegas a la casa todo borracho? Sabes que no me gusta que los niños te vean así. (Why did you come to the house all drunk? You know I don't like the kids seeing you like this)" Lance could hear concern in his mother's voice. She calls it a house, I call it a shed.