Different colored minds

Its all about him

JOE POV

I'm about to make my way out of the front door of the school when a hand catches my arm. I whirl my head around to come face to face with Maverick.
"Want a ride home?"
There are very few people I trust behind the wheel and this chemistry nerd is not on that list.
"I'm fine. I'll wait for one of my parents."
"Come on, it'll be fun." His eyes are practically glittering. I let out a sigh.
"Alright, this once I'm okay with it."
And so i hobble off slowly towards his car. At first I can't believe what I'm seeing. I think for sure I'm mistaken. The funny thing is I've seen this car around town sometimes. But I never thought it belonged to him.
"Pontiac GTO 1967." He says with a smile.
I cough in surprise.
"How'd you get your hands on one of those?"
"Bought it off the internet." He's unlocking the door and stepping inside as if this is just another walk in the park.
I'm still standing on the side walk.

One time when I was listening to Steven talk about classic cars he mentioned this one. He said, "if only I could refurbish one. You know how much I'd get for that?"
"What?" I replied.
"66000 minimum."

How on earth does Maverick have that kind of money?
"Hey, you coming?" Maverick croons from inside the car.
I smile and pull up on the door handle.
"Nice ride man."
"Thanks. It's one of my favorite cars." This is not what I expected from someone like Maverick. Or anyone my age, for that matter, unless their parents were too rich for their own good. But from what I've seen, Maverick's family isn't particularly wealthy. Something isn't adding up. I'm so lost in thought I almost don't notice it when he drives past my house. I abruptly tell him we have to go back. But when I look back I see something that makes my heart thud to the bottom of my stomach. In my drive way is the broken down red car my dad and I were trying to fix. And jammed into the windshield, is a giant rust red brick. Maverick and I stare at the car as he pulls up.
"Oh," he says simply.
"Oh," I agree.
The one thing my dad and I didn't argue about was cars and now there's a red brick shoved into that. Now there will be nothing between him and I. Nothing to keep us from biting each others' heads off.
Nothing left for us to relate about.
He doesn't care. Why would he?
"What did you do?" Are the first words out of his mouth. Even though it doesn't even make sense for me to be the one to shove a brick into my own winfshield.
"You really think I'd destroy my own car?" I snap.
"Your car? We're the ones who bought it. Who else would have been able to do it?" And this is how it's always been. My fault. Don't ask me what happened. Don't ask me how this makes me feel. I have to buck up and take it like a man just like him. I have to end up just like him. It makes me want to vomit.
"I wasn't even home until right now. If anyone could have stopped it from happening it's you!"
"Watch your tone boy!" My father's face is turning red. When my dad is like this there's no reason to talk to him. Nothing good will come out of it. But nothing good has come in general in my life to begin with.
"You always say that when you disagree with me!"
"How about we make this about you then? You can't get into any good colleges now because of your grades, you won't join the football team to make it easier for your parents to help you pay for college, and now we have another expense of YOURS to put on top, how selfish can one person be?"
It doesn't matter that it wasn't my fault. It's never God will provide. It's never I've fucked up before too. It's you're a failure. You always have been and you always will be. My dad doesn't care unless it has to do with his money. He loves it much more than me. Than my mom. Than his god. And I get to take the beating because I'm supposed to obey my parents anyway. My life can't get any worse.
"You're right dad," I resign. There's no point. I knew it before. He can only hurt me from here. In the distance I can hear him speaking, it's like ocean waves angry and cursed. He calls me all the usual things, an idiot, dumb, and good for nothing. He really scapes the bottom of the barrel with the insults, this guy.
I think about where to shove my hand into the wall next since I can't afford to buy a new wall. I think of killing myself but Then he'd be winning. And I have to win in this war.
He's still talking. I should care. At least that's what he's talking about now. I don't say anything. There's no point. It's not like he's going to say anything that needs a response. It's all about him after all. It just makes me tired.
There's no point in arguing. When i get out of this house and can pay for myself I'm going to be free from this.
I know this is futile thinking. The world will find new chains to put me in but at least it won't be this prison. It won't be this hell. It won't be this fucked up place my dad thinks is a home.

It's all about him in the end anyway, so it's better for the bystanders step aside.  Never mind the car or the fact that someone might be sending a warning shot at me. After all. It's all about him in the end anyway.