The Rebel of Raleigh High (Raleigh Rebels #1)(16)
“I have to work Wednesdays now, and that bitch won’t let me come by on the weekends.”
Rhonda makes a show of pulling a face; her earrings sway wildly as she jerks in mock surprise. “Firstly, do you think the title, ‘Bitch’ is appropriate when referring to the woman who so graciously agreed to take Ben into her home and care for him like he is her own son?”
I huff out a blast of laughter that can only be described as scathing, shaking my head. “That bitch doesn’t care about Ben. We both know she’s only letting him stay with her because of the paycheck you guys give her at the beginning of every month. And no one asked her to treat him like he’s her son. He’s not her son. I’m his blood, and I should be able to see him whenever I fucking feel like it.”
Rhonda pouts, displeased. I have a knack of displeasing people like Rhonda. Quite a talent, in fact. I can do it without even trying. “You are frighteningly clever, Alex. I know you’re not delusional. I know you’re more than acquainted with the harsh realities of the world we find ourselves in, which is why I’m so confused by the fact that you still expect life to be fair. I am a college graduate with a masters in human psychology. I should be a college professor by now, commanding a ridiculous salary, but because I’m not only black but a woman, I’m entirely unsurprised that I’m sitting here across a table from you, explaining that you cannot just do whatever the hell you please, whenever the hell you feel like it. Why did Jackie tell you not to go over there on the weekend?”
I slump back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. Outside, it’s snowing. The view from the third-floor window of this shitbox is, admittedly, quite pretty. The stand of trees at the bottom of the hill that rolls away from the building are all dusted white. Briefly, I’m transported back to another time and another place, a smaller version of me, standing impatiently next to an old woman with cloudy eyes as she pats the side of a sieve, sending clouds of icing sugar cascading down on the wedding cookies we just made together.
“The bike. She said it makes too much noise,” I tell her. “She doesn’t want to disturb the neighbors.”
Rhonda taps the end of her pen against the notebook on the table in front of her. “Can’t you just take the bus?”
“No, I cannot just take the fucking bus! I have a means of transport. I shouldn’t have to ride a bus twenty-five miles away, just to keep fucking Jackie happy. What is this, Nazi fucking Germany?”
Rhonda arches an eyebrow. “This has nothing to do with Nazis. Jesus Christ. I despair of you sometimes, boy, I really do. This is about your brother. He’s ten years old, and it’s good for him to have you in his life. If you need to make a few compromises in order to do the right thing by him, then—”
“Compromise? To settle a dispute by mutual concession.” I push back in the chair, leaning so that the front feet hover off the floor.
“And? Your point being?”
“Me not riding my motorcycle isn’t a compromise. There is no mutual concession. Jackie isn’t meeting me halfway. She’s just getting her own way. Sets a terrible precedent, Rhonda. Makes her think I’ll bend over backward to whatever random, stupid demand she makes next. And that….is not going to happen.”
Rhonda throws down her pen, sighing in frustration. She turns an open, weary look on me, and I finally do see her. She’s tired. This is a thankless job at the best of times, I know that. That’s why every single social worker I’ve ever met is jaded and completely resigned to the fact that the system is broken. “Haven’t you learned how to pick your battles yet, Alex?”
I shrug a shoulder, unwilling to surrender my point of view. “If I concede on any ground, I ultimately lose. And I won’t lose Ben to her. He’s the only family I have in the world. As soon as I turn eighteen, I’m petitioning for custody of him. I’ll take him to live with me, and I won’t have to worry about Jackie’s bullshit anymore.”
Rhonda isn’t surprised by this statement. This isn’t an idea I’ve just snatched out of the thin air. It’s always been the plan to take Ben as soon as I’m old enough. I’ve been waiting seven years, and now the end is in sight. Now, I only have seven more months to wait before I can become Ben’s legal guardian, and we can get the flying fuck out of Washington altogether.
“Baby boy, right now, I’d say the chances of any judge awarding you custody of that child are sitting at a big fat zero,” Rhonda informs me. “Take a look at yourself. You do ride a motorcycle. Your arms are more ink than skin—”
“Oh, is that how it is? I expected better from you. Given that you’re not only black but a woman, I’d have thought you’d be a little less judgmental than—”
Rhonda holds up a hand, cutting me off. “Don’t even try and pull that shit with me, boy. I don’t have to be sitting here, wasting my time on you. I have a kid of my own, and I finished work twenty-five minutes ago. I am free to walk outta here at any time, and you can sit here with your bad attitude in silence if that’s what you want. Or you can shut the hell up and listen to me.”
She waits; from the look on her face, she really will get up and walk out if I say one more word, so I keep my mouth shut. At the end of the day, loathe as I am to admit it, I need Rhonda on side.
“Hmm. That’s what I thought,” she mutters under her breath. “I don’t give a shit if you have tattoos on your damn eyeballs, Alex. I don’t care if you drive a repurposed garbage truck around and refer to yourself in the third person all day like a goddamn lunatic. The only thing that matters to me is Ben’s welfare. If I thought that you were mature, responsible and serious enough to take care of a ten-year-old boy, then I wouldn’t hesitate in recommending Ben be placed with you once you’re eighteen.”