Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
But the last thing I wanted to do today was confront a living gelatin dragonhead. “Mom, I didn’t almost die.”
“That’s what it said! That’s—That’s what you said in your own article that you wrote up! Do you want me to read it to you to jog your memory, young man?” She ejects a bizarre sound from her body I can only describe as something between a crow squawking and a cat hissing with demonic anger. “I was such a flippin’ fool that whole day long, goin’ about my business, not knowin’ in the least what’d almost happened to my baby, my poor, sweet baby!”
“I knew you’d overreact and didn’t want to worry you.”
“Do you know how embarrassing it was today, to get the paper and read about my own son’s near-death experience? I just ‘bout fell out of my darned body! What if I had gone out and talked to the neighbors beforehand? Y’know how Miss Clair is! She always reads the paper first thing and chews my ear off ‘bout it. What if I went out there to get some fresh air and … and looked like an idiot, not knowin’ about—about my own—ooh—!” She slaps a hand to her forehead suddenly. “Elmer, hon, I’m ‘bout to pass right out.”
My dad, calm as ever, comes to her side and guides her to a chair at the kitchen table where he rubs her back. He peers at me with a sad look in his eyes. “Noah, really, this is …” He sighs. “This is so out of character for you.”
“Articles are supposed to be embellished and over the top,” I point out. “It’s how you keep the reader’s attention.”
“You still should’ve told us,” says my dad.
I cross my arms and shrink into my turtle shell, feeling a cold combination of shame and frustration.
That frustration is quickly interrupted by the sound of deep, rhythmic thumping. My parents and I look up at the same time, hearing it. Even my mom perks up, her dramatic fit ending in a swift instant upon picking up the noise.
It persists.
Thump … thump … thump.
My mom is first to fly from her seat and rush to the window. “It’s Cole!” she exclaims with a gasp. “The sweet boy came back to fix the mailbox, just like he said he would! What a darling! I have to go out and insist on him stayin’ for dinner.” She peers back at me. “To thank him for saving my son’s life, apparently,” she adds somewhat frostily, then sees herself out the front door.
After yet another disappointed look from the self-appointed mayor of Windville himself, I leave my dad’s side and move to the window. My mom meets Cole by the mailbox, already erected and in place. Cole’s face is bright and cheery as he greets her, looking so sweet and handsome as he always does.
With the busy and stressful day I’ve had, Cole is a welcomed sight on my lawn.
I can still feel Burton breathing down my neck at the office earlier this afternoon. “This is just the beginning,” he had said as he leaned against my desk, once again threatening a tall stack of folders that sat precariously next to him. What is it with me and stacks of folders on my desk? “We’ll be runnin’ more issues than usual this month, so keep them fingers movin’ and don’t stop, not for a second. Patrick is out delivering. Heard a stand was already depleted on Main Street. Whatever his stomach bug was, I guess it’s passed, thank the Lord, because we sure need all the hands we can get. Speaking of, have your tiny tippy-tappin’ hands finished the H. T. M. I. java coffee layout stuff? My dad’s on my ass about them.” After a breath, I responded, “It’s HTML and JavaScript, and I should be finished soon, sir.” But Burton walked away halfway through my reply, back on his phone: “Hey, buddy! What’s goin’ on? Nah, I can’t pull away right now, super busy day. Wait, what? Cindy will be there? Damn it, just my luck. Alright, I’ll see what I can do. Uh, did she say anything about me, by chance?”
Tamika was only there for part of the morning before she was sent out on some errands. “I swear,” she said to me as she swung past my desk on her way out, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say I’m a full-time employee rather than an intern, the way Burton has me doing this and that. Oh, do you want me to pick you up anything on my way back, by the way? I’ll be hitting up T&S’s, too, so coffee, pastry, ice cream, hot dog, you name it, it’s in your mouth.”
I bit on my finger, wondering if Cole was on any menu. Cole and what he did to me last night. Cole and his tongue and his big hands and his piercing eyes. Cole, Cole, Cole.