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Prologue

Joey

Banging on my bedroom door wakes me, just like it does every morning for the last few years. Since Dad died of cancer when I was fourteen and Mom had to start working overtime to make ends meet, I’ve had to take on the responsibility of raising my siblings.

“I’m up!” I yell and sit up when the banging starts again. Charlotte, my little sister, huffs and runs down the hallway. The floorboard outside her door squeaks as she hurries to get dressed.

I drag my ass out of bed, pull on the jeans I dropped on the floor last night, and grab a hoodie before heading downstairs to make sure Charlotte and Mathew eat before getting on the bus.

I grab some bread to pop in the toaster and scramble some eggs. Matt wants cheese on his; Char wants salt but no pepper.

I get them plated up and on the table, when a cloud of perfume comes down the hallway.

“Charlie! Stop spraying that!” Matt yells from his room.

“Fuck off, Matty!” she screeches back using the nickname he hates.

“Both of you, come eat. You’re running out of time.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. I’m so tired.

Char drops down in her seat and eats the eggs but eyes the bread like she’s afraid it’s going to bite her.

“What’s your deal?” I lean against the counter and watch her push the toast off her plate.

“I can’t eat carbs, they make you fat.” She looks at me like I’m an idiot and it makes me want to punch something. I’m so tired of all these fad diets and social media telling everyone that you have to be a specific size and shape to be attractive. She’s sixteen, for fuck’s sake.

“No, they don’t. Carbs are fuel for your body. Eat things like bread and pasta in moderation and you’ll be fine.” Being an athlete means I know a lot about nutrition. Over the years, we’ve been taught how to fuel and condition our bodies for optimal performance, even as teenagers. I’m seventeen and I’ve been paying attention to how I fuel my body for years already.

Matt scarfs down his food so fast I don’t know how he doesn’t choke on it, then we’re grabbing backpacks and hoodies, and I snag the uneaten toast, before running out the door to catch the bus.

This is the last year we’ll all be in the same school since I graduate in June. Char is a sophomore and Matt is a freshman so I can keep an eye on both of them. Matt is a shithead but he’s my little brother and I have to try to keep him out of trouble. Every year it gets harder.

When I’m not at school, I’m at hockey practice. I don’t have time to raise my siblings but I still do it because I’m the oldest.

We make it to school and Matt disappears with a group of kids that are trouble. Great. I shake my head and sigh, knowing I’ll have to deal with it, but I don’t have the energy today.

“You know he’s getting into a fight at lunch, right?” Charlotte stops next to me, but her face is in her phone.

Exhaustion has my shoulders dropping.

“Who’s he fighting?”

“That kid with green hair and a spiked choker.” She clicks the gum in her mouth. “Hangs out with Darius and Mark.”

“Awesome.” I let out a breath and run my hand through my hair. “Get to class, I’ll see you later.”

“Yup.” She walks off toward her group of friends and I head to my first period, dreading what my day is going to bring.

I barely stayed awake through my first-period English class, was late to second-period history, and my stomach was growling loud enough to be a distraction through Algebra II, but I’ve finally made it to lunch. I have no idea where this fucking fight is supposed to happen, Char didn’t know, so I’m on the lookout for the group of dumbasses.

I’m so hungry, though. Hustling to the cafeteria, I grab a tray, not caring what’s on it as long as it makes the hunger pains stop.

I’ve barely sat down next to my best friend, Josh, when I hear it.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” being chanted.

“Fuck’s sake!” I throw my tray across the floor in my frustration and take off toward the noise with Josh on my heels. I’m so tired of dealing with my brother’s bullshit. We’re all struggling since Dad died but he’s the only one making it everyone else’s problem.

A crowd has formed around my dumbass little brother and Evan, the green haired kid with black eyeliner, a punk style, and a fuck-you attitude. Honestly, the two are pretty evenly matched and I’m not sure who would win but I’m not going to find out either.