My Destiny

Chapter 1- It's a Hard Life

"Corey, do you see what time it is? You're gonna be late." Corey glanced over at his mother, then back at the television. His mother, Diane Winston, stood in the doorway of the family room with her hand on her hip. She was dressed, her handbag over her shoulder and spring jacket draped across her arm. From her expression and the tone of her question, it was apparent she was sure he'd lost track of time.

"Okay, mom. Let me finish this game. It's like three minutes left."

"Fine, but I don't wanna hear any whining about JUGs. And when are you going to cut your hair? It's like you're begging these people to punish you."

Corey didn't respond, focused on finishing his 2K basketball game. Shaking her head, Diane Winston turned and left the room, allowing Corey to finish his game.

"Have a good day, son. And be sure to be home by 6:00. You have that ACT prep thing tonight. Right?"

"Yeah, okay, I will." Corey's response was rushed. Of course, she knew she was right. She had been reminding him for the last week. He attempted to refocus on his game, but it was too late. She had thrown him off with her damn babbling, and the game won. Corey jumped up from the La-Z-Boy and tossed the PlayStation game controller on the coffee table. Oh well, to be continued after school.

He took a peek at the Movado watch his dad had bought him last Christmas. It was a lower-end model, but hey, it was a start. 7:35. Yeah, he was now officially on par to be tardy. And he did not need any more damn JUGs. It was the Jesuit's way of punishing you for every little thing you did wrong. You got a JUG – Justice Under God, if you're late, if your hair is too long, if you wear the wrong kind of khakis. Hell, he'd gotten one last year when he got caught eating a candy bar on the way to his next class. Thirty damn minutes of silence, "thinking" about what you did wrong. No homework, no reading, and you definitely couldn't come up in there with no devices, although he had tried it once and got caught. He ended up with a Double JUG.

Corey had twenty-five minutes to get to school thirty minutes away. He would have to speed, something that had gone terribly wrong in the past. Now he had points on his driving record, whatever that meant. All he knew was his parents had shelled out close to a thousand bucks, and they were pissed about his "lack of responsibility." They even threatened to take his car, an eight-year-old Charger. But, of course, they didn't wanna be bothered with driving him around, so they dropped that quick. Who were they kidding?

Corey still didn't understand why he couldn't just go to the local public school. They lived in Grosse Pointe, Michigan. It's a pretty affluent neighborhood just outside of Detroit. The public schools were the usual reasons families moved to GP. But his parents insisted he needed to travel to some dumb ass all-boy private school. The University of Detroit Jesuit - U of D for short or the Jes (what he and his boys called it) was located on the other side of town in Detroit. Thirty minutes away. And they wonder why he kept getting tickets.

Grabbing his cell phone, he stopped short before opening his car door, pausing to look at the Snapchat message from his boy, Josh. He had to look at it before getting into the car. It was the one thing he made sure he was consistent about not doing. His parents made sure to let him know that they wouldn't hesitate to take his car if they ever found out he was using his phone while driving. That he didn't doubt. Especially after a friend of a friend of a friend killed herself trying to DM on Twitter while speeding down the freeway. It was all over the news. His school even had some lame campaign and an assembly about texting and driving, and his parents showed up. It was a wrap after that. He didn't doubt that they may have put some sort of tracking device on his phone to see if he was using it while driving.

Corey flew down I- 94 freeway over to the Lodge Freeway, checking his rearview mirror for cops every now and then. He pulled into the student parking lot and jumped out of the car while it was damn near still rolling.  Sprinting down the hall, he barely made it across the threshold when the bell started ringing. Jogging to his seat, he could feel his underarms perspiring. Alright, enough was enough. He had to leave on time or risk being funky by honors English.