"Goooaaalll!" My father jumped out of his spot on the couch with one fist up in triumph and the other grasping his beer. His face was split into a grin as the crowd jubilated from the goal in the soccer match he was watching. "A por ellos!" He fell back onto the couch, his grin intact before bringing his beer back to his lips.

It was his day off, and he was in a good mood.

That was one thing I loved about soccer. It made my father happy. It was a great tranquilizer after a day's work at the steel factory the night before, but I knew better. He was drinking beer, which I also liked because it never got him drunk, but I refused to wait around for his inevitable fall from this peak of contentment.

These were the only moments I looked forward to going to Oliver's place.

I grabbed my water bottle and made myself a mix of popcorn and almonds that I placed in a bag to munch on in the car. When I zipped the bag closed, I made my way to the front door.

My father's gaze followed me. "A dónde vas?"

        I peeked back at him. "Out."

"Which is?" he queried.

"Oliver's place."

My father's brows knitted together. "I still don't know why you do this to yourself, Iago." He leaned back with his arms resting on the back of the couch. "Why do you affiliate yourself with those mocosos? Do you like making yourself feel bad?"

I didn't want to hear this, but I remained silent.

"Those boys? They're here." He raised a cupped hand up. "And this is you." He lowered the hand, and I swallowed. "This is us." He kept his hand in the same position as he leaned towards me. "You'll never be like them, no matter how much time you spend with them. So why do it?"

I didn't know.

He was right.

Oliver, Brice, Tyler and almost everyone at Villa Ridge High were better than us, in a sense. I would never be like them. Honestly, I didn't want to be like them.

        They were so ignorant and sheltered and most of them had everything handed to them on a silver platter. A part of me hated all of them for that, so why did I hang out with them?

"Vete." My father dismissed me with a wave of his hand. "Do what you want with your life." Another wave of cheers came from the screen. "Viva España!" he shouted with his arms going up again.

I was out the door in record time, adjusting my headphones around my neck as I made my way to Verda. I ignored the fast-paced life around me with all the cars honking their horns and the sounds of people's chatter and even the familiar hazy air that was extra suffocating today. None of it mattered.

        I hopped into Verda, got settled in, and blasted Avenged Sevenfold's City of Evil all the way to the Galbraith's residence.

"Oliver, you tweeb!" Diem shrieked while peeking her head into the doorway from the top of the steps. "We leave the house for one weekend and practically all the seats are up? Are you kidding me? I fell into the toilet again."

Brice chuckled while Tyler watched the blonde girl with a crease in his forehead. Oliver paused the game and watched his sister impassively as his controller remained in his hands. I leaned on the couch with my arms crossed and a bored expression on my face.

"Why don't you leave the seat up?" Oliver said. "Or at least watch where your ass is going before it lands."

Brice burst into laughter while Tyler and I continued to watch. Me, not giving a damn, and Tyler, probably analyzing the situation or some shit.

"Idiot." She motioned as if about to hit him, but he was too far away. 

"Go away." Oliver shooed his sister. "This is the man cave. No girls allowed."

We were all scattered in the basement of Oliver's house, which he liked to call his "man cave." It was filled with all his games, TVs, the pool table, multiple decks of cards and everything he found entertaining. The four of us spent most of our time in this very space, and it was oddly comforting.

"This house is eighty percent women," Diem said. "You're outnumbered, knucklehead."

"Exactly." Oliver twisted his upper body back to face her. "This is my only sanctuary. Estrogen can consume the rest of this house, but not here. Now, get out."

Diem turned to walk up the stairs and muttered "idiot" before slamming the door behind her.

"Bye, Diem," Tyler said after she left.

         Oliver and Brice resumed playing Grand Theft Auto IV, running over a pedestrian and gaining points along the way.

I didn't see the appeal of the game. Sure, people sucked, but I wasn't going to go out of my way to hurt them.

I didn't care enough.

"This house is going to be the death of me," Oliver whined as he and Brice played.

Tyler flashed me a deck of cards and I nodded, so we made our way to the table to lay them out.

"The death of you?" Tyler asked while taking the cards out to shuffle them. "Family and a good relationship with loved ones can actually prolong a person's life, not detract from it."

"It's a saying, Ty," Brice said.

"A saying that makes no sense with the context of his situation," Tyler replied, and Oliver deadpanned while I cracked a smile.

"Those girls are evil!" Oliver yelled. "You'll think a girls' weekend will lighten their mood, but no. They've been worse since their return. You have a younger brother, Tyler. A younger brother whose presence you can ignore. How can I ignore the presence of four women? Whoever wishes to be surrounded by four women is crazy."

"Four women who aren't your relatives, fool." Brice elbowed him, and I chuckled.

Oliver always whined when he was the only man in the house with his three sisters and his mother. Diem was a senior, and she and Oliver always butted heads while Farrah was in middle school and in the "friends are life" phase. This meant she was hardly home, and Adley was a ten-year-old who was the epitome of a girly girl. She loved pink, was obsessed with Disney Fairies and Bratz dolls. If I had sisters like that, I would probably be annoyed, too, but Mrs. Galbraith was cool. She was friendly, and she usually let us do whatever we wanted.

Mr. Galbraith was an admiral in the Navy, and he was currently deployed. Oliver complained about not having his father around, even though I had a feeling Mr. Galbraith wouldn't have been as lenient with us like Mrs. Galbraith was.

"Jax," Tyler said, snapping me into the present. "What do you want to play?"

"Mind wondering again, Velasco?" I peeked at Brice.

"Always," Oliver said before I could.

I sent him a look. "You think you know me, Oliver."

"Nah." He shook his head. "I'm aware of the habits I see, that's all. You always space out. Barely contribute to our conversations, and we've never been to your house."

My face went cold as Tyler cocked his head to the side. "You've made a valid point, Oliver. We've never been to your house, Jax."

I didn't say anything.

"Leave him alone," Brice jumped in, catching all of their attention. "If Velasco doesn't want us at his house, he doesn't want us at his house. I wouldn't want your asses at my house either."

Oliver shoved his shoulder back with a scoff before narrowing eyes. "Wait a minute." He examined Brice with an index finger out. "We've never been to your house either, Abrams."

"Now you know why," Brice retorted, and he and Oliver scuffled to grab each other into headlocks.

"I'm going to assume that was a flippant remark," Tyler said, and I shook my head.

At least, I wouldn't be joking.

Tyler and I began playing a game of Go Fish while Brice and Oliver settled down.

"Seriously though," Oliver said, "most of the time, we chill at my place. Occasionally, we'll bounce up in Tyler's place, but never you two's."

The only people who'd ever stepped a foot into my house were Sabrina and Ximena, and that was only because of my history with Sabrina and the fact that Ximena's family lived in South Creek, too. I planned on keeping it that way. My house was my private life. These guys were my closest friends and all, but that didn't mean they had a right to that aspect of my life. No one was going to see my house.

"Why is my house always the default?" Oliver carried on, and I wanted to flick a card at his mouth to shut him up.

Goodness, this guy whined and whined.

"Why wouldn't it be? This is paradise." Brice opened his arms and glanced around the lavish basement.

I couldn't disagree with that.

This basement was bigger than my living rooming, kitchen and dining room combined, and it was dope as hell. 

"Watch Brice's house be something straight from MTV Cribs." Oliver grinned, but Brice shook his head.

"We're not rich like that."

Yeah, right.

His father was a big-time attorney in Creek Rowe. He had a high price, but he got the job done and people continued to seek his services.

Not rich my ass.

"Have you been to Brice's house, Tyler?" Oliver peered back at Tyler, who glanced up from his cards. "You've known him the longest."

"I can't recall," he said, "which means, there's a high likelihood of the answer being 'no.'"

"Did Sabrina ever see your house?" Oliver asked Brice next, once again not knowing when to drop a topic.

I gripped my cards tighter.

"Hell no." I focused solely on the two boys seated on the ground, halting my and Tyler's game. "Thank goodness I didn't, or she'll be stalking me there, too. Crazy bitch." Brice snorted, and my jaw tensed.

"Watch it," Oliver said before pointing at me. "Jax is here."

After the party, I was pissed at Brice, but he called the next day, and we talked and got past it. We never stayed mad at each other for long. None of us did. If something went down, we bounced back from it. Nothing was serious enough to end our friendship.

But the way he spoke of Sabrina rubbed me the wrong way. 

Brice glanced back at me, and I didn't relax my expression. "Come on, man. Don't take it to heart. Why are you getting upset over a girl who dumped you freshman year?"

I breathed in slowly, not appreciating him saying that.

Sabrina and I were over. We'd been over for a while now, so I didn't even know why he was bringing it up.

"If anything, I did you a favor, Velasco," he said. "Taught her a lesson for messing with my boy. Now, that bitch knows how it feels to have your heart stomped on."

He turned back around and continued playing with Oliver as if he didn't just say that pile of garbage. He honestly thought he did me a favor.

Bullshit.

He didn't break up with Sabrina as a way to get back at her for breaking my heart. He broke up with her because he was Brice Abrams. The guy whose longest relationship was three months, despite having had numerous girlfriends so far.

"Whatever," I muttered, returning to my game of Go Fish with Tyler.

"That's not very commendable, Brice," Tyler said as we played. "Socially shaming a girl and lying about your intentions is malicious."

"You don't get to talk." Brice showed him an index finger without looking back. "You weren't there. Too busy playing with your molecules."

"It's more mentally stimulating to construct molecular structures than it is to indulge in alcoholic beverages and hedonistic sex," Tyler said with the most serious expression.

Brice and Oliver brushed him aside, but I agreed with Tyler.

Although, molecules weren't my thing.

Hell, even that would have been better than that party. I found no joy in attending social gatherings. A quiet night by myself would have been the real idyllic paradise.

Next year, I was definitely pulling a Tyler and skipping out on the Galbraith shindig.

The rest of the night was uneventful. Brice and Oliver played Grand Theft Auto IV until they got bored of assaulting prostitutes and killing pedestrians while Tyler and I had multiple rounds of Go Fish. Afterwards, all four of us played a game of pool with Brice and I on one team while Oliver and Tyler were the other. Brice and I won, and he gloated while I let him.

Tyler was the first one to leave because he wanted to pay Bree, his girlfriend, a quick visit before heading home. Brice left next, and I stayed as long as possible until I had no other choice but to go home.

When I walked through the front door of my house, my father turned on the living room lights before I could. I squinted my eyes as they adjusted to the light, and my father approached me. He shot me a glare, and I took a step back.

"Why are you coming home so late?" he asked with his frown lines deepening. "It's a school night."

Like he cared.

It wasn't even twelve yet.

I adjusted my headphones on my shoulders. "Lo siento. I was just having fun with my friends."

My father chuckled, which was followed by full-blown laugh. "Fun?" he asked. "Having fun? With your friends?" he said in a mocking tone, and his facial features dropped, morphing drastically. "We don't get to have fun, Iago!" he yelled in my face, but I didn't flinch.

I stopped flinching two years ago.

"You think you can be like them?" he said. "You continue to hang out with these boys, and it's making you forget your place. We don't have fun. We work. We sweat. We bleed." He listed them off with his fingers. "We're not like those people. A day in our life is foreign to them. You're foreign to them, so stop fooling yourself." I blinked. More often than I should have. "I may not be the smartest man alive, but I, at least, have common sense."

I wasn't a fool. I wasn't an idiot. I had common sense.

He kept talking—more like yelling. I let him, and I waited for it to stop as I stared past him at nothing in particular. The alcohol from his breath hit my face with every word, but I waited. It would stop.

It always stopped. It was only a matter of when.

"Are you listening to me?" His hands gestured in my face.

"Yes, Papa," I said, continuing to stare past him.

"You think I'm an idiot." He took a step back, and I released a soft exhale because that meant it would be over soon. "You think you're better than us."

I shook my head. "No, Papa."

I wasn't a fool, but I wasn't better.

"Because you're hanging out with the rich kids, you think you're a pijo. Don't you, Iago?" He moved closer to me again.

"No, Papa," I said with my voice wavering at the end, and I cleared my throat. "I'm not." My voice came out stronger. 

"Then say it with me," he said, moving even closer. "No matter what, I'll never be like them." I opened my mouth but hesitated. "Say it."

"No matter what, I'll never be like them,'" I said, moving my gaze to the love-seat beside me.

"Más fuerte," he instructed. "Say it louder, so it can get through your thick head." He pressed his index and middle finger into my forehead, and it pushed my head back. "Say it, Iago."

"No matter what, I'll never be like them,'" I repeated with a knot forming in my throat.

"And that's the truth." My father stepped back once more, and he ruffled his black hair back. "Don't forget that, mijo." His expression softened. "Because if you do, you'll only be disappointed, and we have enough disappointments." He turned and retreated up the stairs. "You're no pijo," he shouted before my parents' bedroom door slammed shut.

I gulped the knot away and threw my bottle in the trash. I tried blocking out what had just happened as I turned off the living room lights before climbing up the stairs, but I halted at the sight of my mother.

Her frail form watched me from the top, and she wore her faded night gown with her thin hair in a low ponytail. Her sunken eyes stared into mine, but we didn't say a word. Right when my lips pulled at the corners, she dropped her gaze and retreated into the bedroom as well.

Probably to watch telenovelas. Drink Sherry. Then fall asleep for work tomorrow. And repeat.

No. Scratch that. No telenovelas on the nights my father slept in the room with her. They made him agitated.

So Sherry. Sleep. Work. Then repeat.

I stepped into my room and kicked my shoes to the side. I was mentally and physically drained, so I wanted to collapse onto my bed and not wake up for twenty-four hours straight, but I had school the next day. If that hell-hole called Villa Ridge High wasn't my ticket out of here, I wouldn't have even bothered.

With a sigh, I got into bed and called Santiago, but he didn't pick up. Probably sleeping. Then I remembered he always slept past two a.m. He probably had his reasons.

I called Diego next, but he didn't pick up either. He was probably sleeping. My brothers lived in Maine, and I hadn't spoken to them in months. It wasn't the night to talk, I guess. 

Tomorrow was another day, even though it didn't change anything.

        No matter what, I'll never be like them.