Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Who needs to go outside to be bullied when I can just stay home and let Mom do it?
“I mean, you must be sweltering,” she frets, clicking her tongue and wrinkling her nose. Because, of course, anybody who doesn’t walk around with their boobs hanging out the way she does must have something wrong with them.
I am so tired of this. Tired of being her daughter. I’ve never been good enough. She doesn’t even try to understand why I dress the way I do. Why I want nothing more than to fade into the background—to go unnoticed. Why bother understanding when it’s so much easier to simply disapprove?
Before she pries any deeper into how my day went and whether I met anybody nice, one of the women beckons her. “What do you think about these floral arrangements? You were talking about an archway to stand under when you exchange vows, right?”
I don’t know the woman, but I’m grateful to her. She just saved me from having to suffer through what I know would be disappointment verging on anger from dear old Mom. Now that her attention has been stolen away, she forgets all about the right colors for me and discusses hydrangeas versus roses.
Which is my cue to get the hell out of here before she remembers I’m around. When Mom’s not looking, I duck out of the room on tiptoes, then jog over to the stairs and take them two at a time, desperate for solace. I feel beaten and bruised. Is this how it’s going to be every day? Why can’t I take online classes? Nobody would miss me. Why can’t I just disappear?
Probably for the same reason I can’t avoid Carter: my luck has never been very good. Once I reach the top of the stairs, his snide voice assaults me. “You know, your mom might be a gold digger, but there’s one thing we can agree on.”
He’s leaning in the doorway to his bedroom, arms folded as he follows my progress up the hall. I pin my gaze to the floor, refusing to give him the reaction he’s so clearly going for. Snorting, he adds, “Your clothes are hideous.”
Because I needed that last little kick in the teeth to put a bow on this gift of a day. The first of so many days. An endless string of them filled with nothing but anxiety and fear.
And maybe a little bit of envy.
Because deep down inside, I wish I could be normal. I just wouldn’t know where to start.
FIVE
Carter
As usual, it’s not bad enough that I’m being forced to do something, like living with a pair of strangers who have no business being here as far as I’m concerned. I have to take meals with them, too. At least Dad took Irene out for breakfast this morning, meaning I’m off the hook. Small miracles.
It’s not bad enough Elliana lives under this roof. I have to see her in Psych class, too, like there’s a spotlight on her, pointing out how different she is from normal people.
It’s not bad enough I have to drive her to and from school. No, she has to keep me waiting. We should’ve been out of here five minutes ago, but I’m still the only person down here, waiting by the front door. This is beyond stupid. She’s not satisfied with having a chauffeur? She has to make sure I know we move according to her schedule, too?
Fuck this. I am nobody’s servant. I’m not going to be late for class because of her. As it is, I’ll probably have to park a mile away from the liberal arts building where my first class is held. I’ll probably have to sprint across the lot to make it in time.
The girl is determined to insert herself into every aspect of my life and make it a little worse than it was before. She’ll learn today about being on time. She wants a favor? She follows my schedule. She doesn’t get to move into my house and dictate the rules.
It’s nice driving on my own. I mean, I’m just as silent now as I would be if she were in the passenger seat, but at least there isn’t that strange discomfort in the air. Like I’m Jack the Ripper and she wants to open the door in the middle of the road and jump out for fear of what I might do.
A growl stirs in my throat and fills the truck. What am I doing, thinking about her?
At the end of the block, I pull up a playlist and turn on something loud and bass-heavy. Soon, the whole truck is vibrating in a satisfying way. It’s almost as good for relieving my tension as a solid workout or a good fuck.
Great. Now I’m thinking about fucking while my stepsister is close to the front of my mind. Pretty fucking disgusting.