Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
When I flip through the pages to make sure they’re all intact from the earlier tumble, a small piece of paper falls out of one of the pages and onto my chest. My heart thumps against my ribcage as I open the paper to find my mom’s handwriting. When I read over it, I recognize it as a grocery list. Milk, eggs, chicken, juice, tomatoes… I scan down the list, stopping on the last item: almond soy milk.
She must’ve used it as a bookmark, and based on the last item on her list, it had to have been just before the accident. Sierra was going through a dieting phase and insisted on only drinking almond soy milk. Nobody in the house liked it but her. Hell, I don’t even think she liked it, since the diet—and almond soy milk—only lasted a couple weeks. Wow! She must’ve been reading Wuthering Heights.
Lying down, I bring the book to my chest, wishing for it to help me feel closer to my mom. God, I miss her so much. Every second of every day. It’s so unfair. She was this beautiful, vibrant woman, who didn’t deserve to have her life stolen from her. Especially by her selfish, lying, drunk of a husband.
As the tears escape my eyelids, I hold the book tightly, allowing the small comfort of knowing this was possibly the last book she read before she left this earth, to lull me to sleep.
Blakely
“Hey, Blakely.”
The voice comes from behind me, so I turn to find Brenton Davis walking over to me. Like me, he’s fairly new to the school, has only been here a few months, but unlike me—and more like my sister—he’s already found his place, which is at the top of the food chain. Football is over, but if it were still in full swing, he’d fit in perfectly with the jocks. Athletic, cocky, good-looking. Yet he also seems to fit in with the book nerds. He’s smart and takes his academics seriously. We have a couple AP classes together.
“I heard you’re heading to the beach with everyone.” He stops in front of me and his lips curve into a million-megawatt smile.
“Yep, I’ll be there.” I grab my books from my locker and slam it closed since it likes to stick. Today is the last day of school before spring break, so I’m bringing some stuff home with me to work on while we’re at the beach all week—including the copy of Wuthering Heights that Mrs. Barnes loaned me so I wouldn’t have to chance my mom’s copy at the beach.
“I was wondering if maybe you’d want to ride with me.” He shrugs his shoulders and his hands go into his pockets as if he’s… nervous? Internally, I groan. If this were a couple years ago, I would be all over it: hot guy, a hotel, the beach for a week. But now, my priorities have changed.
“I’m sorry, but you’re wasting your time,” I say, trying to let him down easy.
“Excuse me?” He raises a brow, confused.
“I’m not going to sleep with you,” I tell him, figuring just coming out and saying it will push this conversation forward quicker and then we can pretend it never happened. “I’m only going to the beach as Sierra’s allocated babysitter.”
“Oh… no.” He winces. “I wasn’t trying to… I don’t want to hook up with you.” He sighs. “I mean, you’re hot…”
A giggle escapes past my lips at his uneasiness, and I slap my hand over my mouth to hide it, but I’m not fast enough and he catches it.
“Jesus, this is all coming out wrong.” He runs his fingers through his dirty blonde hair. “I actually just got out of a bad relationship before moving here, so I’m not looking for anything like that. I just thought maybe we could ride together as friends. I heard your sister talking shit about you having to ride with her and her friends.” He flinches. “Shit.”
“No, it’s okay. It’s not exactly a secret that my sister wants nothing to do with me,” I say softly, my voice cracking with emotion. She’s the only person I have left in the world, and yet I don’t even have her.
“Well, if you want to ride with me…” He lifts a shoulder.
“That would actually be really great,” I tell him, figuring riding with him will be better than being stuck in the car with Sierra and her druggy friends.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“All right. I’ll pick you up at eight, so we can miss the morning traffic on 95.” His words remind me of something I’ve been thinking about lately.
“Hey, Brenton, would you mind making one stop along the way? It’s right off 95.”
“Sure,” he says with a smile.
“Thank you. See you tomorrow.”
“Is it true?” Sierra drops onto her bed, her backpack hitting the floor with a thud. “Are you going to the beach with Brenton Davis?”