BREAKING POINT

After detention, I trudged out of the school building and spotted my mom chatting with Miss Denise. My heart sank as I took in my mom's thrift store outfit, her usual elegant beauty overshadowed by the faded clothes. I couldn't fathom why she'd married my dad, with his rugged Scottish features, when she was a stunning gem. But, I had to admit, I inherited my good looks from her. Her silky brown hair was roughly tucked behind her ears, with a few stray strands framing her face, accentuating her exhaustion. Despite her harried expression, her blue eyes sparkled like orbs, and her button nose twitched with a hint of a smile. She was, without a doubt, drop-dead gorgeous.

My dad, on the other hand, was...well, a lovable average Joe, no offense to Scotland. I overheard my mom apologizing profusely to Miss Denise, "I'm so sorry, Miss Denise, I promise it won't happen again." Miss Denise smiled kindly, "It's okay, Mrs. Luis, I wonder where Chester gets his feistiness from, with such wonderful parents like you and your husband." My mom's eyes flickered with a mix of gratitude and embarrassment, while I just rolled my eyes, my face still burning from the earlier incident.

My mom turned to me, her expression a mix of exasperation and disappointment, the "you're doomed" look etched on her face. "Come Chester, let's go!" She yelled at the top of her lungs, jingling the keys to my dad's ugly, rusted mini van, which seemed to be held together by duct tape and prayers. I groaned, feeling the day couldn't get any worse. I tossed my coat into the back of the van, where it landed with a soft thud. "Mom, you didn't have to come!" I protested, my voice laced with frustration.

"Your teacher called me, Chester! I had to come," she replied, her voice firm but worried. "Why do you keep causing trouble and bringing attention to yourself?" She shook her head, her silky brown hair swaying with the motion. "Well, it's not like I lied!" I shot back, my voice rising in defiance.

"Chester! What did I tell you about talking back?" she warned, her eyes flashing with a hint of anger. I clamped my mouth shut, knowing better than to push my luck. She sighed, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her own emotions. "Why do you do this to yourself, Chester? You're a bright child...," her voice cracked, and she burst into tears.

I rolled my eyes, feeling a mix of guilt and annoyance. My mom was overemotional, and it was something I truly despised. Yeah, I hated my life, but I hated seeing my mom in tears even more. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry, okay? Can we get out of here now?" I asked gruffly, my voice softening slightly at her tears.

My mom sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve, and put the van into gear. She drove off, her speed a glacial pace, as if she was trying to avoid hitting every pebble on the road. I groaned inwardly, feeling frustrated at her slow driving. Sometimes I was upset we were moving too slowly, and a snail could overtake us, while other times I was praying I'd get home in one piece. Her driving was pretty bad, period!

We finally reached our small, weathered house, and I breathed a sigh of relief as my mom parked the van. As she was about to step out, I stopped her, my curiosity getting the better of me. "Mom, where's dad? He didn't go to work today?" I asked, my eyes fixed on her worried face.

She hesitated, her eyes darting towards the house before returning to me. "He's at home, Chester. We didn't open the restaurant today," she replied, her voice laced with a hint of concern.

My heart sank, knowing that the restaurant was already struggling. My dad and his business partner, Gerald, a friendly guy with curly hair, had poured their hearts and souls into the venture. My dad was the master chef, whipping up delicious dishes that could rival any fancy restaurant, while Gerald handled the management side. But despite their efforts, the restaurant was barely scraping by, and the thought of closing down permanently was a looming threat.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration and despair. It seemed that no matter how hard my dad worked, it wasn't enough to attract the attention of the wealthy crowd. It was as if they were more concerned with the appearance of the food, willing to spend thousands of dollars on tiny, Instagram-worthy dishes that looked like scientific specimens rather than a hearty, satisfying meal. It didn't seem fair that my dad's amazing cooking wasn't enough to save the restaurant. We entered the house, and I collapsed onto the worn, comfy couch, feeling like I was drowning in my own misery. My dad was in the kitchen, whipping up something delicious as usual, the savory aromas wafting into the living room and transporting me back to memories of Grandma's cooking. I shook my head, chasing away the nostalgia.

"Hey, Ches!" my dad called out, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Do you wanna go fishing with your old man later?" He asked, his voice laced with hope.

I shook my head mutely, feeling too exhausted to even muster up a response. My dad didn't have the financial means to spoil me with material gifts, but he made up for it with his time and attention. We'd always have these long, enjoyable days filled with fishing trips, game nights, movie marathons, chess matches, or cooking sessions. It was a special bonding time, but also exhausting.

"Come on, Ches, why not? It's gonna be..." he started, his voice trailing off as I interrupted him.

"Please!" I exclaimed, my frustration boiling over. "DAD! Can you just leave me alone for two minutes? Jeez!"

The atmosphere in the living room shifted, my mom stepping out to receive a phone call, a huge smile spreading across her face as she returned. "Honey! I got the job!!" She hugged my dad tightly, their happiness infectious.

"What job?" I asked, clueless.

"Oh, Chester," my mom began, sitting beside me on the creaky couch. "I applied for a librarian position at your school a week ago, and I got it!" Her eyes sparkled with excitement.

My world came crashing down. NO WAY! NO NO NO. MY MOM IN MY SCHOOL? NAH! It couldn't be happening.

"Please, mom, don't accept the offer!" I pleaded, my voice laced with desperation.

"Why not, baby? At least it's better than being a nanny! They pay really well!!" She reasoned.

"Mom! You don't know what this will do to my life. All the kids will make fun of me," I protested, my face burning with embarrassment.

"We don't care about them," my dad reckoned, his voice firm but gentle.

"Maybe you guys don't, but I do!" I exclaimed, my voice cracking with emotion. "For Christ's sake, I'm just a child! Don't you get it? You don't expect me to not care and understand everything! To just be fine with our lives being like this?" I lashed out, my words tumbling out in a torrent of frustration and despair.

My mom's face paled, her eyes wide with shock, as if she'd never seen me like this before. "Chester!" she yelled, her voice sharp with concern.

"What?" I yelled back, tears streaming down my cheeks like rivers. My face felt hot, my heart racing with anger and hurt. "Do you think it's easy being in a place with people above your social class?!" I spat out the words, my voice heavy with resentment. "Do you think it's easy being in a school full of rich kids constantly bragging about how great their fucking parents are? Huh? Do you think it's easy? I can't make friends, I'll never fit in and I'll never get a dance for prom!"

My words hung in the air like a challenge, daring them to respond. But they just stood there, frozen, unable to meet my gaze. My mom's lips trembled, her eyes welling up with tears, but she couldn't muster the courage to say anything. My dad, always the calm one, spoke up, his voice gentle but firm.

"We squeeze water out of stone to give you a good life, Chester," he said, his eyes filled with a deep sadness. "We want the best for you, son."

But I was beyond consolation. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of expectation, suffocating under the weight of their dreams for me. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't be. I just wanted to escape, to run away from it all.

"Is this what you call a good life?" I spat out, my voice heavy with sarcasm and resentment. "Wow! Thank you, my great mother and father, for giving me the best life ever. You deserve an award!" I spat out the words, my eyes blazing with anger. "Good life, my foot! I wish I was never born to such miserable parents..."

"CHESTER!" My mom's hand came crashing down on my face, the slap stinging my skin and leaving a burning sensation. It was the first time she had ever raised a hand to me, and I felt a surge of shock and hurt.

But I refused to be silenced. I wanted to hurt them, to make them feel the pain and anguish they had caused me. "Why are you even keeping me alive? Just kill me! The way you killed Grandma!! YOU MONSTERS!!" I spat out the words, my voice trembling with rage and tears.

My mom's hand came down again, harder this time, and I felt a numbness wash over me. I couldn't feel the pain, but I could see the shock and guilt in her eyes. My dad tried to intervene, but she held him back, her eyes fixed on me with a mixture of sadness and anger.

"Let him be, he needs some time alone..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I turned and ran out of the house, the silence and tension following me like a shroud. I didn't stop until I was gasping for breath, my heart racing with emotion. I felt like I was drowning, suffocating under the weight of their expectations and lies. I wanted to escape, to disappear and never come back.