Page 4 of Interview with the Billionaire

He said I wasn’t old enough, but I told him I was. You said so one time, and I told him that. So he said he’d give me a test, and he asked me a bunch of questions about Newton and quantum stuff and electromagnetic forces and all sorts of stuff that wasn’t hard at all.

I told him so, too. I don’t think he believed me, but then he read all my answers, and he said that he’d spend an hour with me three times a week and on Saturdays, too, if we had time.

We did that for three months, and it was so awesome.

But then about six months ago, everything changed.

Dad changed it.

The thing is, Mom, I hate him.

I hate my father.

I hate Jeremiah Stark.

And I hate Merle Richter, too. I know I shouldn’t say so, but I do.

I. Hate. My. Father. And. Merle Richter.

It feels really good to say that.

Do you already know what happened? Do you even know who Coach Richter is?

This is what happened:

Dad heard Coach Sanders telling someone I had potential. And then right after I turned nine, I won a tournament for kids in SoCal—isn’t that cool? I beat all the others and got a trophy and a check, too, for a hundred dollars.

Dad let me keep the trophy, but he took the money.

I didn’t care. Not much. But I wanted to celebrate with Coach.

But do you know what Dad did? He fired Coach Sanders the very next day.

Does that even make sense?

I mean, Coach was good, right? But Dad fired him. And then he hired Coach Richter.

I hate him.

I hate him so much I want to quit. He says I can’t. He says it’s good for me, but I think it’s because I won money. Dad likes money. And I’ve won more, too. He keeps it all.

The game isn’t fun anymore. Mom, he pretty much ruined last year. I wish you were here instead of him.

The only good thing is that Coach has a daughter. Her name’s Sofia, and she’s nice. She’s terrible at tennis, but we have fun. So I guess that’s something.

And I’ve been in a bunch of newspapers. I guess that tournament was a big deal. Winning’s fun. So is seeing my picture in magazines and the paper and stuff. But it’s weird, too. Like I’m a circus animal, you know? Doing tricks.

Coach Richter says we’re going to go big. I don’t know what that means, but I overheard him talking to Dad. I think they’re going to pull me out of school. I don’t want them to. If you were here, he wouldn’t. You wouldn’t let him.

I wish you were here.

I wish he’d died and not you, and I don’t even care if I’m not supposed to say stuff like that.

Anyway, that’s me. I guess I mostly wanted to say that Dad’s a jerk. But I think you already knew that.

P.S. Dad found out about the physics stuff and now I can’t do that anymore. I know I’m not supposed to hate my dad, but I do. I wish I didn’t. I wish I had a different dad.

I close my eyes, just soaking up the feel of him. It’s more potent than coffee, and if I could bottle this sensation, I’d be richer than my husband.