SHOW ME WHAT’S MINE

JAMIE

“What the hell is going on with you, Jamie?” my dad yells, his face growing redder with each passing second.

I briefly think about giving him attitude, but I've never seen him this angry, and I'm actually worried he might have a heart attack, so I shrug my shoulders and try to make myself smaller. The cans of spray paint are screaming my guilt no matter how innocent I try to make myself look.

“You ruined our neighbor’s garage door with your graffiti,” he screams at me. “How the hell am I supposed to face him tomorrow?”

At the mention of Mr. Foster, I jerk...