You Can't Speak Asian

                                    

                                          
    Adam volunteers to drive me to school until my car is fixed, which won't be until next Friday.
     I sit in his passenger seat, impossibly close to the window. If I press myself any further, I'm afraid I'll push the door open and tumble out. 
     Adam is staring at the road intensely. One hand clutches the steering wheel, the other rests on the center console.
     I keep a close eye on his free hand, the one that  left three bruises the last time I rode in his car. 
     "Mom has a surprise for us, later." Adam says suddenly, his voice causing me to jump slightly.
     He glances over at me and I avert my eyes, looking at my fingers as they fidget in my lap instead.
     "Did she say anything about it?" 
     "Well then it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?"
     I'm quiet for a few minutes. 
     "She's making dinner tonight." I say slowly.
     Adam is twenty-one years old. He has an apartment about ten minutes from our house, where my mom and I live. It doesn't really matter though, because when mom isn't home, he stays over. Mom is never home.
      She says it's nice that he wants to protect me and watch out for me.
     "I'm staying," he says with finality, a smirk resting above his chin.
     "But you don't have-"
     I should have kept my mouth shut. 
     He grabs a fist full of my hair and slams my temple into the window, the dull thud reverberating over the quiet hum of the radio.
     I grab at my throbbing skull, letting out a sob as tears rush to my eyes.
      "You don't want me around," He asks me.
     I don't say anything, knowing that this is a rhetorical question.
      "Because if that's the case, I'll leave. After I'm gone, Mom will see how you've driven everyone else away, and it's only a matter of time before she leaves your worthless ass alone too."
     He's right again. It's hard to believe she hasn't already recognized the pattern. I am the problem.
     "No, Adam, I'm sorry. Don't leave, please." 
      My tears of pain are turning into anxious breaths as I grasp his hand between mine apologetically.
     He can't leave. He's all I have.
     "Please don't leave me."
     He smiles, squeezing my hands tightly. It takes everything I have to resist pulling away. I love him, and he loves me. He's my brother. He only hurts me when he needs to.
      "I'm not going anywhere, Melanie. Not for a long time."
      The remaining five minutes of the drive are silent. Every muscle in my body is tensed up, ready for anything. I play with the frayed strings of my hoodie, not looking up in fear that Adam will be distracted by any sudden movements I make.
     When the car jerks to a stop, it only takes me seconds to scramble out, barely shutting my door before Adam speeds away, his tires squealing against the asphalt.
     I hike my book bag up higher on my shoulders, looking at the building that looms over me.
     There's a flood of kids pushing their way inside the set of double doors that leads into the school.