Page 14 of Feeding Hope
“The reaction’s more than salt,” Fanatic said as he remained crouched beside me, rubbing my back and holding another glass of milk.
Dante smirked and almost crowed. “I ordered some Pepper X.”
“That’s the hottest pepper in the world!” Dad exclaimed and gaped. Tony moved quickly and grabbed my bowl. Before Dad could stop him, he knocked Dante down and shoved a handful of my oatmeal into Dante’s mouth. Dante started struggling, and Tony clamped his mouth shut. When he’d swallowed, Tony pushed a second fistful in.
The reaction was instantaneous. Dante shrieked and held his mouth. I knew the agony he was feeling. Scout grabbed the jug of milk, walked over to the window, and poured it out.
“Oops, sorry, there’s none left. I’ll go get some. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Scout said with sheer dislike.
Dante drummed his heels. I’d had a spoonful. Tony had shoved two fistfuls into Dante’s mouth. He had to be feeling the burn ten times worse than me. Good, because I was done.
“Boarding school,” I croaked at Dad, who looked devastated.
“Not for you, Eddie, but for Dante, yup. He’s gone too far. Military school,” Dad said, and the room fell silent apart from Dante’s agonised cries and my panting.
“Putting a gun in Dante’s hands isn’t wise. He’s a psychopath,” Mama Phoe replied from the doorway.
“All children are,” Fanatic retorted.
Mama Phoe nodded. “Yeah, but Dante worries me. But military school is an option.”
Dante began shuffling towards her for comfort, and she gazed down in disdain. “You’ll get no sympathy from me. This serves you right. You harmed your sister, and now it’s come back on you twice over. I’m disgusted and disappointed in you. You learned nothing last week.”
“Mrs Ames says there’s an entire saltshaker worth of salt missing. That’s what Dante put into the salted caramel,” Scout announced, carrying a glass of milk. “If Eddie’s heading to boarding school, Timmy and I wanna go too. We don’t want to live with Dante.”
Dante reached up, grabbed the milk, and gulped it down. “I’m your future president!” He rasped.
“No, you’re not. Ice and Shutout are. I’d never join Rage MC if you held a position of power,” Scout retorted.
“Dad, I’ll apply to Hellfire. I won’t join Calamity’s chapter because Dante would be the National President. That’s unacceptable,” Timmy added, glaring down at Dante.
Dante still clutched his throat, and I hoped it hurt as much as mine did.
“Yet again you used food as a weapon. So, here’s your punishment for today. You have thirty dollars to buy a week’s worth of food. It has to last you all week, Dante. Aaron will take you shopping and let you pick groceries, and he’ll pay, but all you have is thirty bucks,” Fanatic said, straightening.
While I no doubt remained bright red, I could breathe easier, although my throat burned. The pain was awful; it was like having tonsillitis again. What was Fanatic doing?
Mama Phoe nodded at Micah. “Good idea. I fed six of us on that. Let’s see how this little bastard manages. Meanwhile, there’s no breakfast for you as you ruined Eddie’s. If youcontinue this route, and military school doesn’t work, you’ll be in a children’s home!”
Mama Phoe’s words landed like a nuclear bomb. She never said anything she didn’t mean, and Dante stared in horror even while he fought to breathe like me. “Get out of my sight!” she snapped.
Dante struggled to his feet, shoulders slumped. There was no comfort from anyone. What he’d done was beyond cruel.
“You’ll never be my sister,” Dante hissed, his voice sounding scratchy and cracked.
“And that’s something I’m eternally grateful for!” I retorted.
Sophie
“We’ll be fine,” I promised the kids, holding back tears. Mark’s parents had died, and we were once again faced with homelessness. Mark had reached out to his brother, but the asshole had told us we’d made our bed. How the hell had Mark been at fault for his accident?
“Mom, I don’t want to go,” Donny sobbed as he held on tightly. How did I explain to my four-year-old child what was happening? Donny was so confused.
Lisa, our six-year-old, stood to one side; she understood better than Donny, while Ryan, at seven, was angry and hurt.
“Honey, we don’t own the house; it was rented, and the landlord won’t let us stay,” I replied.
We’d been evicted, and because our credit was in the toilet, the fucker wouldn’t let us rent it. We were living out of a bag each and heading to a homeless shelter for families. This had to be our lowest point. The only thing worse was handing over the children to child services to ensure they were cared for. But our lawyer was working to avoid that, and we had a family supportofficer. Fingers crossed they didn’t try to tear our babies away from us. We’d never recover from that. Big corporations had so much to answer for.
