My mom stood at the kitchen counter, blasting reggae while she fried a chicken breast in a greasy pan. The grease popped and sizzled, coating our kitchen with the gunky droplets. I was surprised that Aspen didn't clean up the mess with a wet rag, considering she's the only one who seems to give a damn.

"Welcome home, beautiful boy!" My mom sang to me, off beat to the song that was playing. I waved and headed straight for the steps, counting down the seconds until I could strip myself of this baseball uniform and wear some sweatpants. My dad was sitting on his bed in his room, staring at the TV, but the TV was off. Actually, the TV was broken. I laughed to myself and stood at his doorway, knocking on the wall directly next to the door frame to try and gain his attention.

"Yeah?" He jumped at the deep sound of my knuckles against the drywall, his face deadpanned towards me now. "Just checking up, I guess," I shrugged and began chewing the inside of my cheek, biting down onto the flesh just hard enough to feel some pain.

"Anyway, making sure you're alive, I guess."
I turned back around and walked into my room, closing the door behind me.

My dad and I never had a close bond. It would never be as close as the bond he had with Aspen and Devian. I don't know who to blame for that, maybe myself. Maybe I should blame myself because I'm gay, even though when I broke the news to him he said, "I don't care."

My eyes stumbled shut and I fell straight down  onto my bed, arching my hips just a bit so I could unbutton my pants. I groaned at how difficult this mediocre task was, letting my body lay limp once I realized I would have to stand up to get undressed.

I caught a glimpse of my baseball sports bag, remembering the note that Axel gave me during first period physics class. I flopped onto my back and sat up, criss cross on my bed as I pulled the bag into my lap.

I zipped open the nylon, feeling around until I found the pair of jeans I wore to school. I began searching one of the front pockets. Nothing. I crinkled my eyebrows together and immediately began to search the other pocket, finding nothing but a few crumbs. I knew the note couldn't have just disappeared, so I peered inside of the bag. I pushed and shoved my shirt around, shaking it out, inspecting every single corner of the bag only to turn out empty handed.

The back pockets were just as bare as the front pockets. Where could it have possibly gone? I sucked a deep breath in through my nose, letting the air out in a throaty groan of frustration. I looked around my room but found nothing but some dust piled up in the corner of the hardwood floor. I sat on my bed, defeated once again.

I was so hungry I thought my eyes were going to fizzle completely to darkness, making that defeat number three of the day. I carefully stood up and made my way back downstairs where my mom was obviously high off her ass, still singing and cooking.

"Is that done yet?" I asked, referring to the chicken on the stove. She shrugged, "I haven't checked it in a while, these crackers are really good but a little stale."

My mom continued shoving crackers into her mouth, a small smile of confusion and happiness plastered on her face as her body moved to the music. I rolled my eyes at her, but she didn't seem to notice.

I flipped the chicken around in the pan with a fork, covering my face with my forearm so none of the grease droplets would land on me. It sizzled loudly and the smell sent my mouth watering. It took a lot of will power to not dig into that chicken right then and there. I peeked into the cupboard and found some seasoning, shaking it onto the chicken. I had no idea what it was, but it smelled even better now.

"Put it on a plate for us," my mom yelled loudly over her music, which seemed to be a bit softer now. I grabbed a paper plate and flipped the chicken onto it, the grease immediately soaking through. I put it on the table before it completely disintegrated the plate. I was the first to sit down, and quite frankly the first to notice dinner was even being made.

I dug my fork right in and took a few bites, picking the fat off as I went. I was craving protein, and now I had it. The rest of my family didn't eat with me that night, not even my mom who ended up falling asleep on the couch with her music still playing.

I ate the whole chicken breast and turned all the music, lights, and electronics (more like the stove) off afterwards. I put the pan in the sink, again, letting it soak overnight. I didn't even know Aspen was in her room until I saw her through a crack in her door upstairs.

Devian was asleep, too, and I wondered why he didn't come down to join me for dinner. He always used to come down to eat with me. I noticed a baggie of pot next to him, sucking in another long breath at the sight which nearly made me want to vomit my protein all over him.

I closed our door and shut the lights off, sitting down on my empty mattress. I looked into the darkness for a while and wondered where I went wrong. The thought sent chills through my body, making my skin crawl like a thousand soft pointed pins were poking me at the same time.

I didn't do anything wrong, did I?