If my life had a soundtrack, I'd like to think it'd be Carry on Wayward Son. If you've never heard it, I suggest that you get right on that.

It's the song that's been playing on repeat all day. My mom has already yelled at me twice to "turn that nonsense down!" I don't though. Instead, I belt out the chorus with more intensity each time it comes around. "Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don't you cry no moreeee," I sing at the top of my lungs and stomp around my room.

A loud crash from downstairs makes me stop singing. Reverently I turn the music off and call out for my mom. I know that I've really done it this time if she's throwing shit. I so got my temper from her.

Soon I discover that the plate that was thrown across the kitchen had nothing to do with my loud music and everything to do with the man standing by the fridge looking completely out of his element.

My father tries to force a smile when I walk into the kitchen, but his eyes soon revert to my mother's frosty stare. She looks livid. He's the only one who can ever anger her so much. If I didn't know better, I'd say that it was passion. Good thing I know better.

"What's going on?" I ask my mother. She looks at me and points to my father, so I turn to him. "What are you doing here?"

He clears his throat and his eyes when he looks at me, are pleading. I hate those eyes. They always mean trouble. "I was asking your mom to have you this weekend."

I raise my brow at my mom as if to say that's it? but she shakes her head, so I know that he's leaving the important part out. "And what about it?"

"He." she says it as though it takes everything in her to even acknowledge him. "Wants to fight me for custody."

I snort. "Dad, come on. You cannot be serious."

"Not full custody," he says defensively. "Just a few days a month." He turns to my mother. "It's a reasonable request and it doesn't warrant you throwing a plate at my head."

"I'll throw more than a plate if you don't get the hell out of my house!" My mom storms towards him and I quickly jump between them. "Move," she orders me.

I shake my head. "That's a bad idea. You know he'll press charges if you touch him." He won't. I'm just saying it to scare my mom and also hurt him a little. Can't help myself.

I try to block out their many fights from my memory, but at times like this I remember the important pieces. The broken dishes. The slashed tires. The jewelry flushed down the toilet and once, the broken car windows. The car windows had been the final straw, I think.

"You're being ridiculous, Jules," my father says in a calm voice. "I really don't see why it's a bad thing to want to spend time with my daughter."

"Because I don't want to spend time with you," I tell him. I'm facing my mother, so I don't miss the way that she instantly relaxes. I'm on her side. Of course, I'm on her side.

"Because your mother has poisoned—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," she warns him.

I take this opportunity to guide my mother back to her corner over by the sink and then I face my father. He's looking at my mother with a look of disbelief, but when his gaze flits to mine, it morphs into one of clemency. I sigh heavily and tip my head towards the living room. Time to be the grown up here.

When my parents divorced, mom got two things: the house and the kid. She didn't fight my father for alimony or a hefty child support payment. She'd simply wanted to keep the house and me. At the time I didn't understand why she'd asked for only those things, but now I do. If she'd pressed, my father would've fought her every step and she might have lost everything. He had more money and influence and we all know how big a factor money plays in these cases. It would've been a bloodbath.

"If you try to fight for custody you'll probably win," I tell him when we're alone in the room. "You'll win the battle, but you'll lose me."

He runs a hand down his face. "I don't know what else to do, Quinn. You won't see me otherwise."

"Because I'm mad at you!" I don't exactly yell, but my voice does rise a little.

"Well give me a chance to fix that, kiddo."

I sigh. "Dad, these things take time."

"Quinn..." He shakes his head. "I don't want to take this to court, but I will if it means that I'll at least get to see you."

"I'll never forgive you." I try to sound threatening, but even to my own ears I sound scared.

"You'll never forgive me regardless."

My mother interrupts before I can say another word. She must've been in the entryway, but neither of us had noticed her until she spoke. "She'll spend one weekend each month with you."

"Mom. No." It's not a plea. It's a statement. "Don't let him win."

She lifts her hand to silence me and something tells me that I'd better obey. "Garrett, I'm only doing this because I don't want to drag our daughter through a custody battle." He quickly nods and I scoff. "You'll get her on the last Friday of the month and I expect her back no later than 8 on Sunday nights. Do we have a deal?"

My dad looks grateful and he actually smiles a little. "We do."

Determined not to let him feel so happy, I say with as much menace as I can, "maybe she can force me to spend time with you, but she can't make me be nice." With that I turn on my heel and run up to my room.

By the time my father leaves, I'm feeling pretty silly about what I'd said. Of course, my mother can make me be nice. All she'd have to do is ask. Ugh.

I text Sam and ask her to meet me at the mall in an hour and when she says that she's already there, I get up and get dressed.

"Wait a minute," my mom says when I try to sneak past her.

Sullenly, I face her. I don't want to have to discuss our eventful morning. I'm having a hard-enough time trying to stay mad at her.

She takes me by the arm and studies my face which must look like I'm trying my hardest not to run away. "You're angry."

"No shit," I say too quickly.

She purses her lips and nods, ignoring my language for the time being. "You know that I can't win, baby."

I pull away from her and cross my arms. I did know that, but I was still upset. I don't want to have to spend time with the man who'd abandoned us and picked up a brand-new fiancée before we'd even gotten over it. As volatile as their marriage had been, I still can't forgive him for leaving so callously and then flaunting his new love in our faces.

I'm always surprised by how angry I get when I think about my dad. Mostly he's shoved to the back of my mind, but right now he's at the forefront and so is all the hurt.

"You'll be eighteen soon and then it'll be entirely your choice whether or not you want him in your life," mom continues. "But for now, this is the best that I can do." She hugs herself and I notice that her eyes are glistening.

Kicking myself for being an asshole, I hug her. "It's okay, Mom," I tell her. "I know that you tried."

And try she did. She'd honored my request to not see him and it'd lasted a long time. Three years is a long time to fend someone off, but she'd done it for me and here I am being ungrateful. Again.

"Don't be out too late," she says when we pull away. "I want us to watch a movie tonight."

"Okay." I hug her again before leaving.

Sam marches over to me when I reach the top of the escalator. Sai and Mandy emerge from behind her and I roll my eyes. "Of course you're not shopping alone."

She doesn't mind my remark. Hooking her arms in mine, she guides me over to our friends. "We were just about to grab lunch. I'm thinking tacos, but Sai insists on Chinese."

I scrunch my nose. "Tacos, definitely."

Sai flips me the bird and drags Mandy with her to the other side of the food court. Sam smiles at me and I rest my head on her shoulder. "Let me tell you about my morning."

As I recount my story, Sam shakes her head. "That asshole," she says when I'm through. "He knew that she'd give in."

"Yeah." We order our tacos, beef for Sam and chicken for me and then we meet up with the girls. Sai gives me a proper greeting by hugging me and Mandy smiles, but doesn't come any closer.

"Are we okay?" I ask her because it seems as though she's intentionally holding back.

"We're good," she replies, but I can hear it in her voice that we're not.

Instead of insisting that she's not being truthful, I shrug. I probably deserve her evasiveness after all the things I'd said to her over the course of the last year. I deserved a hell of a lot worse than evasiveness.

After we've eaten, we shop for outfits to boy Sam's party that night. I tell them that I'm not going because the night is already promised to my mom, but Sam convinces me to buy an outfit anyway. "For when you and Jessie go on your make up date," she'd whispered in my ear when no one was paying attention. I'd slapped her on the arm but tagged along anyway. Maybe a small part of me loved the idea of a make up date even if the whole of me wasn't entirely on board with the idea.

"I think you'd look great in this," Sai tells Mandy while holding up a knee length black dress adorned with yellow flowers on the hem. Mandy wrinkles her nose and Sai moves on.

I snag a t-shirt with a band logo that I don't recognize, but it's pink and pretty and I can't help it.

Sam settles on a leopard print dress that's a bit on the short side. "I have the perfect pair of thigh high boots that'll go with this," She says when I shake my head disapprovingly. Boy Sam's soirées always end up on his lawn, so I know for a fact that she'll regret not wearing something longer. Sam doesn't care about that right now, though. She does, however, get a thick black scarf to go along with her outfit, if only to appease me.

I leave them a few hours later. The girls head to Sam's house to get ready for the party, and I head home to watch a movie with my mom. In some ways I think that my plans are better than theirs.