SHOW ME WHAT’S MINE
JAMIE
“What the hell is going on with you, Jamie?” my dad yells, his face growing redder with each passing second.
I briefly think about giving him attitude, but I've never seen him this angry, and I'm worried he might have a heart attack, so I shrug my shoulders and try to make myself smaller. The cans of spray paint are screaming my guilt no matter how innocent I try to make myself look.
“You ruined our neighbor’s garage door with your graffiti,” he screams at me. “How the hell am I supposed to face him tomorrow?”
At the mention of Mr. Foster, I jerk my head up in anger. “That fucker deserved it,” I yell before I can stop myself.
My dad looks at me like I've smacked him. “I don't know what has gotten into you.” His once broad shoulders sag with the weight of
