Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 94457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“I’m glad we got to talk. I really miss you, Q.”
“I miss you too, Mom. Talk soon.” She blows me a kiss, and I roll my eyes right before ending the video chat with a smile on my face. I already feel better, lighter now that I’ve talked to my mom. I could kick my own ass for not doing it sooner.
Tucking my phone back in my pocket, I’m about to head out the door when it opens. Ren appears on the other side, grinning at me from ear to ear.
“Did I just hear your mom’s voice in here?”
“Yeah, I talked to her.” I walk past him into our shared living space.
“I’m glad you did. How are they doing? How is Scarlet?”
“Well. She was even joking around with me today like she used to.”
“Good, I know she must be having a hard time with you gone. So many changes.”
“Yes, but she is resilient and strong.” Sometimes, I think she is stronger than me, but I don’t say that out loud. “Wanna head to lunch?”
“Yeah, sure.” Ren nods to the door, and we head out together.
When we reach the cafeteria, it’s packed. I know the school has about three hundred students. I feel like every single one is here. After we get our food, there isn’t a free table in sight, but as soon as we walk close to one, four guys grab their trays and get up to make room for us.
“Sometimes, being who you are has perks,” Ren points out as we sit down.
“I can’t deny that,” I say, picking up my fork.
I’m about to dig in when a voice cutting through the crowd makes me pause. I scan the room, and my eyes land on the petite girl with her blond hair pulled into a loose ponytail. I can’t make out what she is saying over the chatter in the cafeteria, but I can hear its high-pitched parts.
She is flailing her arms around like she is yelling at the person behind the counter. Suddenly, she spins and stomps away like she is about to tackle someone. Her face is flush, anger etched into her features, and her hands are balled up into tiny fists, ready to throw a punch.
Some guy shoulders her on the way, and I tighten the grip on my fork. She doesn’t even acknowledge the guy, simply steadies herself and keeps walking. She is almost at the door when yet another person rams a shoulder into her. This time, it’s a girl with short brown hair. She turns her nose up at Aspen, daring her to say something.
Aspen turns away from the girl and starts walking around her. That’s when her furious glare lands on me. I’ve never seen her eyes filled with so much hate and anger. Like a volcano ready to erupt, she stomps toward me like some kind of shieldmaiden ready for battle.
“Are you happy now?” she yells once she’s closer. There is so much venom in her voice, she barely sounds like herself.
She stops right in front of the table, and before I can even comprehend what is happening, she swipes my tray off the table. I’m only vaguely aware of the shocked gasps of people around me as I watch the tray together with my plate, drink, and dessert fly through the air and land with a loud crash on the ground beside us.
The whole cafeteria goes quiet, the only sound Aspen’s ragged breathing. “I. Fucking. Hate. You.” Each word drips from her lips with venomous rage. Her chest heaves, and she gives me one last withering look before she walks away. I watch her, stunned by the whole situation. No one shoulders past her this time. Instead, they step out of her way like she has some kind of disease they are worried they’ll catch.
“Does she have a fucking death wish?”
I hear Ren’s question, but I can’t manage a response. Dazed, I look around the room.
All eyes are on me. The same shock I feel reflects back at me wherever I turn. Still holding the fork, I gape down at the now empty table, then at the mess on the floor. Some of the staff are already starting to clean up the spilled food and broken plate. Trying their best to fix everything and make it look like it never happened, but I know better than anyone that there are things you can’t fix. I stare at the broken pieces of the plate as a memory weasels its way out of my mind.
Sitting on Adela’s bed, I cradle the picture frame between my hands like it’s a priceless artifact. Her smiling face beams back at me. At that time, she didn’t have a care in the world. Her big blue eyes were so full of life, her smile jubilant, her hair soft.