BOOK THREE: Mafia High School
I fought my way to the top at Rochester Academy using fists. It was easier than admitting I was a dumbshit with a learning disability. The members of my family were known as thugs and I fit right in. Braun over brains won in my world.
Rochester Academy had given me more know-how and helped refine the thug part of my behavior. It also kept my fists in shape while I honed the muscle and boosted my ass-kicking abilities.
The academy was the home for Mafia infants who would leave four years later as adult members of their families with the burdens it carried. Ours was not an easy life and I never fooled myself about the world I navigated. The rules were different for us; our education was different. The dictates of our families still meant something.
It meant
