Page 1 of Throttle

PROLOGUE

Seventeen

Throttle

Is there any purpose or explanation for these Sunday sermons? The judgmental lecture being forced upon us as we listen. They never made sense to me. Maybe it’s because they don’t have a lasting effect on my life like it does on my father. I wish, for the sake of our collective sanity, it influenced me. I'd be an improvement to my parents.

The son they yearn to have.

I let myself regret never wanting to be a church leader. But the guilt fades, and I’m left to remember this is my future and no one else’s. For me, it wasn't attending Sunday mass; It was about having my life picked out for me.

Bored out of my mind and wondering why my father’s sermon is lasting an eternity—I don’t miss how it’s geared toward me. He's dragging it out too, which makes me more on edge.

Should I be proud of him as he stands up there tall, engaged in his words? As a kid I was. I remember thinking how cool my dad is. How everyone sat and listened to him with such admiration. But I don’t want this life—his life of the church. One of a reverend’s son. I desire my own. To carry out my own dreams.

Whatever the hell those were.

People choose to sing their praises to a God they believe in, that’s fine. It doesn’t make one bit of a difference to me except I’d rather be doing something else. Anything that wouldn't compel me to want to stab my eye sockets out while Mrs. Harvey sings.

Honestly, if my father thinks he can control me after high school, he’s mistaken.

I put my bitter and cynical thoughts on hold when the tapping of the window next to me gets my attention. Gabe, a dude I’ve known since freshman year, holds up a pack of cigarettes, pressing it to the glass.

Thank Jesus Christ.

No pun intended.

My dad clears his throat and his angry stare lands on me. I straighten in the pew, trying not to look guilty. I swear I’m never not pissing off my father.

My mother shakes her head, leaning to my side. “Can’t you behave just once, Levi? Honestly.” Her disapproval tone drips out like a leaky faucet.

Deep down, they figure I’ll never amount to what they want of me, and I continue to disappoint them daily. But what they don’t know… I sure as fuck plan to do right by this world. I’ll just be doing it my way. Not theirs.

“There’s always a choice.” My father raises the bible above his head. “You always have a choice in life. One that can and will define you forever. Let us reflect on our choices…”

I think… if that were true… my parents wouldn’t create a suffocating environment, as if I never have this so-called choice. They’d tell me to do what makes me happy.

Whatever, it has zero significance because as soon as I graduate and turn eighteen, I won’t be staying in this strangling forsaken town.

My mother slaps a hand on my bouncing leg. “Stop that. You’re being so disruptive.”

I’m trapped, drowning, and there’s no damn way to get out of here. Not yet.

When mass lets out, I buzz past the slow movers.

“Oh, my goodness boy, be careful or you’re going to topple over an old lady.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Palinski.” I wave an apologetic hand and start up the hill behind the church.

“You better not be late for brunch at the hall, young man!” my mom’s muffled yell makes me cringe.

I loosen my tie that’s too damn tight and see Gabe sitting on the hill, already smoking a rolled joint. “Dude, what the hell? Couldn’t wait ten minutes?”

He laughs. “Sorry bro, but if I waited any longer, my first buzz from this morning was going to fucking deflate. I swear your dad’s sermons are growing longer and longer every week.”

“He does it to piss me off.” I sit down and take out a fresh one hidden in the cigarette pack. “You’re getting better at these. All that pussy must be paying off. It’s making that brain of yours smarter.”

“Fuck off. I’m not the one with a line out the door. Speaking of… a certain big cherry topper blonde came by my house looking for you. You gotta stop giving your hookups my address, man. My parents are going to think I’m screwing the whole high school.”