Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
I laughed at my aunt’s outrage. While she’d never come out and said it to my face, I’d always gotten the impression my aunt didn’t care for Darcy. It had surprised me because, while we were dating, I thought Darcy was a total catch. She was intelligent and strong-willed but compassionate too. Moreover, on a personal level we both knew what it was to feel like we were disappointing our successful families by taking a different path in life from the one they wanted us to take. We’d bonded over the conflict we’d both been through, we understood that we felt disconnected from people in our social circle, though for entirely different reasons, and she was far better at pretending to fit in than I was. There was comfort in our bond. For three years she’d been my sounding board and my friend as well as my lover. But with hindsight, I could see there were things that didn’t work. For a start, we were really bad at communicating with each other. She wasn’t always the first person I thought of when something happened that upset me or excited me, and I realized it was because Darcy didn’t really excite me. Not in the way I realized now she should have. Obviously, she realized that before I did. And I’d genuinely forgiven her and moved on.
Aunt Richelle studied my face in confusion and concern.
Reaching for her hand, I placed mine over it. “I’m okay. We ended it as friends. She’s being friendly. Now I’m going to eat my waffles.”
Aunt Richelle was unconvinced as I dove into the food. “You’re not going, are you? After what she did.”
Swallowing a bite of the best waffles on the East Coast (I was not biased, my aunt could cook), I opened my mouth to answer in the negative, when the vision of a pink-haired Hallie appeared in my mind. Frowning, I considered my answer and then asked, “Do the people who plan these things attend the event?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, the event-planner people . . . do they actually attend the event?” My parents had thrown business dinners and parties while I was growing up, but I’d never paid attention to how they came together.
“Sometimes. Usually for big events like this one, yeah. They need to make sure everything runs smoothly. Why? What a weird question.” She made a face as she slipped onto the stool beside me.
And since I told Aunt Richelle most things, I turned to her and replied, “Well . . . something weird happened.”
SEVEN
Hallie
I like the lack of bullshit up here, Darce. We have our routine, our tasks, and we have to be mindful of each other. This place is bigger than people think, but even so, we’re stuck up here together for months. If you let the things that annoy you go unspoken, it just builds. It’s not like back on Earth, where you let things go because you can get some distance from each other. . . . Up here we speak our minds. We deal with the problem and we move on. No bullshit. It got me thinking, Why can’t it always be like that? I like to think I’m an honest guy, up front about things, but if I think about it, that’s not entirely true. There are so many different reasons to hide our true feelings: to protect other people’s feelings, to protect our own, because we don’t think the situation is worth a fallout . . . because we’re afraid. How much easier things would be if we could all agree to be honest with one another on the proviso that the honesty comes with the best of intentions? But there’s the rub . . . not everyone’s intentions are good. Some people use honesty as a weapon.
Sorry I’m rambling to you today. It was just something I was thinking about. I’m honest with most people . . . but something holds me back with others. But with you . . . Darce, I promise not to hold back with you if you promise not to hold back with me. Never lie to please me, okay. I always want your truth.
—CAPTAIN CHRISTOPHER ORTIZ, VIDEO DIARY #8
My knee was currently doing an involuntary bouncing thing. If you’ve ever had a doctor hit a tiny hammer against your knee, then you’ll understand what was happening with mine.
Except there was no tiny doctor hammer.
Just my dad meeting me for lunch, wherein I had to have a difficult conversation with him.
Nervousness had taken over my limb.
I glanced toward the restaurant door, hoping he’d be on time. Because of work, I had only a brief window to eat lunch these days. The butterflies in my stomach roared to life again at the sight of my dad pushing into the restaurant. That stupid knee tried to bounce, but I stood up on shaky legs. This was so weird, I thought morosely, being anxious about having lunch with him.