CHAPTER 2
"And still you want to be like him!" My mom yelled one night as she and her new husband, Brad found me attempting to hide the beer I'd been drinking as I watched the news and pissed about America. "Why? You were such a good kid until you met him!"
"Maybe I don't want to be a good kid anymore!" I screamed at her. She huffed angrily, stormed at me that I was grounded, and grabbed Brad's wrist and dragged him out the door, slamming it behind her.
Grounded? As if. Like she can stop me from doing anything I wanted to do, because I didn't care.
The phone rang beside me, so I plucked it up and answered "Hello." in the tone of voice that immediately told the other party that I had better things to do than answer the stupid phone.
Jimmy was on the other end.
"Jesus, little bro!" He said chipperly. "What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing," I sighed, no intentions to repeat the evening to him. "Why are you so happy?"
I could almost hear Jimmy grin. "You won't believe this."
"Believe what?"
"Remember when I said that I had a friend in Chicago who was my foster sister once?"
I nodded, then rememberd Jimmy wouldn't be able to see my acknowledgement over the phone, and said yeah.
"Guess who came by for a visit?" Jimmy squealed. "Hey, why don't you come down and meet her?"
"Sure. Anything to get out of this house." I told him.
Jimmy thanked me, and then hung up. I don't know how he manages to have a phone when he doesn't even have a system that he can hook it up to. I think he just hacks off the phone line at the Circle K next door to the warehouse. Come on, it's St. Jimmy. He's cool like that.