Page 106 of Voices

“Good night, Superstar.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Charlie

“Why are you so much smaller than your brother? Aren’t twins supposed to look alike? What’s wrong with you?” Ashley laughs along with her group of stuck-up friends. I feel my face burning as I try to get as small as I can at the lunch table.

“You’re such a loser!“

“Nobody likes your shitty art!”

“It’s a shame Benji’s related to you. He doesn’t deserve to be dragged down by you!”

“Why don’t you just drop out so he doesn’t have to be humiliated by you anymore?”

“You should just leave Charlie…LEAVE!”

I wake with my heart beating loudly in my ears as I blink away the memories from high school. Fucking Ashley and her damn bully squad. I wipe sweat from my chest as I sit up and scrub my hand roughly through my tangled hair.

Reaching for my phone, I see that it’s only five-thirty.

Today is going to be a long day.

I’ll be expected for breakfast at eight but then I won’t have to be accounted for again until later.

With nothing to do for the next couple ofhours, I grab my sketchbook out of my bag and start sketching out Shane’s sleeping face from last night.

A few hours later I’m about to step out of my room right as someone knocks. I open it to Jeffery still holding his fist up.

“I’m on my way down now.” He nods and steps to the side.

I’m the first to arrive at the table, which never happens, so I quickly add scrambled eggs and some strawberries to my plate. Benji walks in a minute later followed by our parents.

We all wait for Father to fill his plate before we’re allowed to start eating. I squirt some ketchup on my eggs, feeling hungry for once. But as I’m bringing the first bite to my mouth, my mother gasps. I look up and see her looking at me, clutching invisible pearls.

I look down to make sure I didn’t put Shane’s hoodie on by mistake, then over to Benji but he’s texting while shoveling food into his mouth. I skip over Father and land back on her horrified face.

“You arenotabout to eat that, are you? All that processed sugar does not belong in this house! Gloria!” She shouts. “Gloria, come here right now!”

I hear a commotion in the kitchen before the doors open and Gloria steps through.

“Yes, ma’am,” she says with a slight Spanish accent.

My mother points at me before glaring at Gloria. “What is that doing on my table?”

Gloria looks at me, confused before returning to her. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. That’s your son, Charles.”

“Not him. That disgusting red sugar he has all over his plate! I did not approve of anything processed to be set on my table! Get rid of it!” She tilts her nose up so she can look down at Gloria.

Gloria raises a brow before walking over to me and grabbing the bottle of ketchup.

“Take his plate too and bring a new one. He won’t be eating that mess.”

Gloria stalls for a second before taking my plate. She drops my fork and bends down to grab it.

“Tengo una botella en mi cocina para ti,” she quickly whispers.

Our eyes connect for a split second before she stands up and walks back into the kitchen.

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