Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Except then came a dinging sound. Even through the horrible ruckus, a slight chime could be heard.
“Sorry baby,” sighed Mary, heaving herself to her feet. “Let me see what this is about. I’ll be right back.”
Her pudgy form disappeared and I was left alone for a moment in the silence of the living room. Sniffling, I looked around. God, how different this was from Thorn’s apartment! The faded flower wallpaper was peeling at the edges, the furniture from the seventies, while Thorn lived in a palace with perfectly matched sofas and artwork.
But the voice in my head piped up then. So what? It said scornfully. That stuff was never yours. You were an interloper, a girl there for a few short weeks, a month max. You didn’t belong there.
And choking back sobs again, I nodded. Because my subconscious was right. I was a poor student who’d been whisked from my station in life for one heavenly month. It’d been one magnificent month with the man of my dreams, a handsome alpha so powerful and commanding, that I’d given it all up. But that was the thing. I was a visitor to that world, and it was Thorn’s world, not mine. I didn’t belong there. And now that the fairytale had ended, I was back in my real home, with the fake-wood walls and saggy roof.
But there are more important things than living in a castle. At least I had my health, I had my mom, and I had skills. Maybe it would hurt to dance for a while, but realistically, it’s the only thing I know how to do. So somehow, I had to pull myself out of this depression. Somehow, I’d have to do it on my own, without Thorn.
I sat up, taking a deep breath, trying to get my sobs under control. The air in my lungs stung, like they were filled with peppermint, but at least they weren’t convulsing in agony anymore. I’d be alright. I would make it work somehow.
The sound of footsteps interrupted my thoughts, and I turned, expecting to see Mary again. But the person who stepped into the light made me cringe because it was Miss Lane. Yes, Miss Lane, here in Kansas, far from the hubbub of NYC.
“Hi Laney,” was her sneered greeting.
I stood immediately, trying to smooth my hair in place, wiping furtively at my red eyes. But there was no way to hide that I’d been crying, the bird’s nest that was my hair.
“Hi-hi,” I stammered. “Why are you here?” I asked. “This is so far from New York, don’t you have classes to teach?”
The woman looked around the room disdainfully, eyes taking in the faded and peeling wallpaper, the saggy furniture.
“So this is where you’re from,” she said contemptuously. “I always knew the new girls were trash.”
I goggled at her. Had I really heard her right? Our house isn’t nice, I know that, but still. Mary had worked long and hard to provide for us, and I wasn’t going to have some snooty woman insult my mom.
“Miss Lane,” I began, voice hard.
But Mary interrupted, her eyes telling me to be quiet.
“Miss Lane,” she said hurriedly. “I’m so glad you came to see my daughter. It’s because you want her back right? The Academy needs Laney to dance, and you know what? Laney’s had a change of heart. She wants to perform. This was all a big mix-up, she wants to go back with you. Laney, get your stuff,” my mom said, eyes telling me to move. “Get your stuff and go with this nice lady.”
I goggled. That wasn’t what Miss Lane was here for at all. Anyone with eyes could see that, my mom was smokin’ something crazy.
“Miss Lane,” I said again, voice hard now. “What can I do for you? Why are you here?”
And this time, the woman answered.
“I’m here because you’re worthless,” she sneered. “Lower than dirt.”
That made both me and my mom shut up, the air in the living room completely silent. Because who would say that to my face? The rudeness was indescribable.
But this woman was off her rocker, certifiably insane. Because she actually went over to the lamp then, and with a sweep of her hand, knocked it off the table. If it hadn’t bounced onto our thick shag rug, it would have broken for sure, but instead it rolled a couple feet.
My mom and I gasped. What the hell? What was going on?
“I’m calling the police,” I rushed. “Mom, dial 911, this is crazy.”
Mary reached for the phone with trembling hands, but before she could get to it, Miss Lane slapped her across the face hard. My mom sat down with a thump, head whipped to the side from the force of the blow.
“Mom!” I screamed, leaping to her side. “Are you okay?”
Mary was completely dazed, eyes a bleary blue, glasses crooked on her nose.