Chapter 1

The day my life changed was one of the more humiliating days of my life. I had asked Dawn Kettinger out in the hallway at school and she publicly humiliated me in her rather vocal refusal to date me. I was never good with the girls. Talking to them usually turned me into a stuttering fool. My reputation didn't help me either. Up until a few months ago, I was the recluse. I was in a deep depression after my father was killed in Iraq and didn't want to deal with people. When I came out of my funk, everyone else around me had already moved on with their lives and I had become social chattel.

I slammed the back door to the house when I got home.

"Easy on the door," said my Mom, as I walked into the kitchen.

"Sorry, Mom. Bad day."

I sighed deeply and then ran my fingers through my blonde, unkempt hair. It was my trademark sign of disgust.

"Anything you want to talk about?" asked Mom.

"No, that's okay," I replied softly. The last thing she needed to hear about was how bad my social life was. She would probably lecture me for hours on how to make friends. You know, things that worked back in the eighties when she was a kid, but have no relevance today. I knew that my sisters would probably tell her anyways. Lindsey loved to tell all the bad gossip about me to anyone that would listen.

"Can you look at the light in the upstairs hallway, Scotty?" asked Mom. Her way of changing the subject always involved more work for me. Not that I minded. I had been the man of the house since Dad left for Iraq. I took over all of his chores and added others to my list as well.

"Of course, Mom," I replied.

I went upstairs and threw my backpack on my bed. I then went about the task of switching out the light bulb in the hallway. I also noticed that one of the lights was out in my Mom's room, so I grabbed two light bulbs.

Just as I finished the light in the hallway, I heard my sisters coming into the house. Well, here comes the razzing, I figured. My dire prediction came true almost instantly, as Lindsey, the oldest of my two younger sisters at sixteen years old, came up the stairs.

"I heard what happened today," said Lindsey with menace in her tone. "I heard she turned you down so that everyone could hear her."

"Lindsey, just drop it, 'kay?"

"Everyone was talking about it," pressed Lindsey. "You should of heard Amber Peterson going on and on about it."

"Damn it, Lindsey, STOP!"

"Scott Alan Foster," yelled Mom from the kitchen. "Do not swear at your sisters!"

"Fucking bitch," I muttered as I grabbed the step stool and retreated to my room. I slammed the door behind me and collapsed onto the bed.

I thought back to a time when we all actually got along. Before Dad left, we were all very close. We did everything together or with our tight knit group of friends. When Dad died, Lindsey turned mean. Anything she could do to get under someone's skin, she did. Whitney on the other hand, went Goth and became fascinated by death. She even threatened to kill herself a few times. Me? I pretty much retreated into my own little hole. I spent most of my time in my room to get away from the world.

I still remember the military honor guard playing taps and sending chills down my spine. Then there was the twenty-one gun salute. Each shot startling me and entrenching more grief into my soul. I still heard those shots every time I slept.

I flinched when there was a knock at my door.

"Go away, Lindsey," I yelled.

"Scott?" called my Mother. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," I squeaked, on the verge of tears.

Mom cautiously opened the door and then walked in to my room. She sat down on the edge of my bed and then ran her hand down my back.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," said Mom. "I didn't realize Lindsey was up to her shit again."