Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Stepsister,” I corrected automatically. “Hyacinth is my stepsister. And no, I assure you, I have no particular feelings about that whatsoever.” I narrowed my eyes. She knew I usually avoided commitments with my stepfamily when given the chance. “Wait, how did you know she’s engaged? I only just heard this weekend, myself.”
Lesya met my eyes. I could see the sympathy in her expression, but it was accompanied by a little bit of judgment. “Your mother called to get an appointment on your calendar because, as usual, you’ve been ducking your family’s calls and texts for days. She told me all about Dirk’s Valentine’s Day proposal and how the wedding is going to be on New Year’s Eve at your Vermont house. A ‘Flower Family extravaganza,’ she called it.”
I felt familiar dread creep up my spine. “Yes. Won’t that be lovely? All eight of my stepsiblings, their significant others, my stepfather, and my mother, converging into a perfect storm of family merriment while I stand by, trying not to get drowned in the deluge,” I said wryly. “Remind me to order an emergency case of Macallan well in advance, hmm?”
“Please.” Lesya snorted. “Like Oscar Overton’s not a force of nature all on his own. You’ll have fun. Just like you will tonight.”
“Tonight,” I repeated.
“The appointment your mother booked with you,” she reminded me. “You’re having dinner with her at Amy Ruth’s over on West 116th.”
I rolled my eyes. You could take my mother out of Texas, but apparently, you couldn’t take the chicken and waffles out of my mother. “Fine. Okay.” I blew out a breath, stretched my neck, and tried to refocus on work. “What’s next on our agenda? Let’s get this done.”
“Actually, you’re gonna like this one. You’re meeting with your new student mentee, Mr. Carlos Gutzman-Driscoll. He’s a junior at Jerome Murphy High School. And he should be here now.” She consulted her tablet. “I’ll send him in if you’re ready.”
She left the door cracked, and I could hear her voice shift from business mode to the softer tone she took with our mentees. A few seconds later, I heard someone approach the office. I stood, ready to greet them… but no one appeared.
I was about to call out hello when I heard soft murmuring. I came around the desk, straining to make out the words.
“Come on, Chuckie,” a young voice muttered. “You’ve got this. You’re the man, and you’re smart, and you have good ideas. Believe in yourself, and others will believe in you too.”
Then the door swung open, and a painfully thin kid with light brown skin and a shock of thick black hair barged his way inside. He lifted his chin in challenge and held out a hand. “My name is Carlos Gutzman-Driscoll, sir. And today…” He paused dramatically. “…is your lucky day.”
I took his hand, and he shook it firmly. “Is it?” I asked.
I could practically see the tremor move through him as his childlike excitement warred with his nerves and his desire to appear businesslike. “It certainly is, sir.”
I smiled, hoping to put him at ease. “Well, then, I look forward to hearing about your project.”
“Oh no,” he corrected. “I don’t have a project. Chucktastic Productions is a lifestyle.” He splayed his hands as he said it.
Oh my god. Surely I had never been that young in my entire life. I turned my back as I made my way around my desk because I knew there was no way I was going to be able to hide my laugh otherwise.
Once I was seated, I indicated for him to sit as well. “I’m intrigued,” I said solemnly. “Tell me more.”
Apparently, he was too amped up to sit, so he remained standing, nearly vibrating with energy. “Well.” The kid’s businesslike mien cracked, and he smiled a little wildly. “It was hard to choose just one project because I’ve got probably a million ideas—my whole Notes app is brainstorming and shi—stuff. But I narrowed it down to my favorite.” He pulled a tablet out of his backpack and turned it to face me before pressing Play on a demonstration video. “I present to you… the Starburst Illuminator. It’s an indoor fireworks display partly done with lasers, partly with LED lights, and partly with self-contained pyrotechnics that are totally safe and nonflammable, all synchronized to music through a program I coded myself. Like, for when it’s raining on the Fourth of July and you wanna have your celebration indoors.”
I blinked as the video showed a really cool and creditable demonstration. I sat forward, watching the screen. “You created this? And you’ve tested it?”
“Oh yeah. Extensively. I used it at Homecoming and again when the basketball team won the championship. It’s already turning a profit.” He blushed slightly. “And if you don’t like this idea, I have a million more.”