Ashleigh
Seven o’clock in the freaking morning. Whose idea was it to have a seven in the morning, anyway? Some sadistic government clerk probably.
My eyes felt like sandpaper, and my hair was plastered to my neck with sweat. Mom and Jeff had argued half the night, and now they were both sleeping in, while I had to get up for school. I was tempted to say to hell with it and go back to sleep. But welfare was never going to pay enough to get away from here, so I had to find a job. And unless ...