“And that horrible boy nearly ruined your life,” my mother says. “How?” I demand. “How did he ruin my life? By being really nice to me all the time? Helping me be a better driver? Always believing in me, even when I was a total shit to him?” “He would’ve ruined your career,” my father says coldly. “The career you don’t even want me to have, you mean?” His expression is ugly. “He would have made you a laughingstock.” “Oh, fuck you.” The words burst out, cold and impatient. My mother gasps. I ignore her. “Fuck you for saying that. And fuck you for thinking that it’s true.”
Go Jacob!
