Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 111464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
He doesn’t climb from his truck, but slams the door, blocking himself off from me instead.
Left with nothing else to do, I walk off, hooking right to take the long way around when I spot Trent headed for Nico, who has yet to drive away.
Thankfully, all my things are in my locker, so I take a quick shower and prepare for class.
Stupid leadership means I can’t get away from my thoughts, but instead I’m forced to the same place it all imploded last night.
I have to sweep in with the rest of my classmates and clean up what’s left of the mess now that all the vehicles and personal items have been moved or picked up. The only way we get to keep going with these types of traditions is if we leave shit how we find it.
There are about fifteen of us in total, so we’re all on the field cleaning the left-over garbage and taking down all the banners and balloons we had hung up yesterday morning. I don’t know who came back and cleaned up all our shit, because it wasn’t me, but there’s no sign of spilled enchiladas and our table and everything else is gone.
I hunker down and work as quickly and silently as possible, and before I know it, I’m sweating.
“Dang, Demi.” My friend Ava laughs. “You got this entire half by yourself.”
I laugh, wiping my hand across my brow. “Yeah, I’ve got a lot on my mind. I want to stay busy... and for this day to end.”
She hesitates before asking, “Wanna talk about it?”
There it is.
My arms fall, the garbage bag in my hand spilling over the edge, and instant tears roll down my cheeks.
Because no, I don’t want to talk about it.
I want to sit and not talk.
With Nico.
“Demi?”
A heaviness in my chest has my heart pounding harder.
“Yeah.” My voice comes out scratchy, so I try to clear my throat, but when I swallow it stings.
I lose my breath.
I pull my gloves off, tossing them into the bag and look at Ava. “Do we have more water?” I rasp.
Ava’s forehead tightens and she nods, jogging off.
I twist with her, following behind with slower steps. Sweat beads across my neck and I lift my hair, fanning myself.
My eyesight grows fuzzy, so I stop walking, blinking a few times.
My teacher walks up right as I start to stumble, and he gently lowers with me as I fall to the ground.
Ava uncaps the water bottle, handing it to me, and I take a few small sips, fighting for a deep breath.
“Did you get any sleep last night?” Mr. Course asks.
“About as much as any of us.”
He nods. “You eat?”
I pause to think and then shake my head.
“Okay, let’s stand you up, and get you to the nurse. I’ll run to class and grab you something from our stash.”
Mr. Course calls for campus security on his walkie talkie and a few minutes later, the little golf cart is speeding across the field.
They help me onto the back and off we go.
Trent is in the hall when we cruise by and he rushes toward us.
“Dem? What happened?”
“Nothing,” I say, looking away from him, happy security keeps going.
Against my protest, the nurse calls my mother, and shocker, she’s home, and even more surprising, shows up at the school only minutes later.
“Demi?” she asks expectantly.
“I’m fine. No sleep and no food apparently does this to you.”
Her eyes thin and she steps closer, opening her mouth to bitch, I’m sure, but then the nurse walks in again.
My mother turns to her. “We’re stepping outside.”
“Of course, Ms. Davenport.” She smiles at me. “Feel better, Demi.”
My mother speaks the second we’re planted in her car, away from prying ears, but still in the school parking lot. “I didn’t know you had an event last night.”
“You don’t know much, Mother. You’re never home.” I look out the window.
She ignores my response. “How did you expect to get through your classes after staying up all night?”
I tense, realizing where this is going. I look at her.
When she hesitates, I roll my eyes and lay my palm open between us.
She drops the pill, already in her hand, in mine, nodding to a fresh, unopened bottle of water that happens to be sitting in her cupholder.
After a bit of a stare off she guesses, “Is this about that boy? Did something happen?”
“Nothing happened. Everything is fine.” I take a deep breath, reach for the door handle, and push it open.
“What are you doing?”
I swallow, looking back to her. “I ate in the office, I’m feeling better, so I’ll see you when I get home.”
“Demi.” She frowns. “The pill.”
I turn to her, setting the pill on her dash and level her with a hard glare. “Hand me another one of these and I’ll finish the year living with Dad.”