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)
“Really?” I have to ask.
“Oh, girl. The stories we could both tell.” Wren washes her hands before digging into her bag for lip balm, which she applies while leaning in close to the mirror.
“How about this?” The toilet flushes, and Maya reappears. “We were going to go into town, grab something to eat. Why don’t you come with us?”
“After what just happened, you could at least use a milkshake or something,” Wren agrees.
It’s funny, but for the first time in as long as I can remember, I actually can see myself interacting like a normal person. Doing the sort of things other people do without giving it a second thought.
They make it easy to believe they’re sincere. I want them to be. I want it so much.
“Okay,” I agree before I can talk myself out of it. When their smiles widen and their faces glow, I’m glad I said yes. My bruised heart needs a win today.
And since it means I won’t have to ride home with Carter, I’m even gladder. I’m sure he’ll be relieved, not having to ride with me today.
I can’t remember the last time it felt like I had anything close to friends. I don’t know yet whether they qualify, but they could. And that alone sparks something close to happiness in my heart.
“So anyway, she got the ass-beating that was coming to her.” Maya dips the last of her fries into a chocolate milkshake, swirls it around, then pops it into her mouth.
“She was practically begging for it,” Wren agrees. “You would think after all this time being embarrassed for being such a bitch, she would learn her lesson.”
“Maybe she needs a visit from three ghosts on Christmas Eve,” I suggest, and the girls’ laughter makes me laugh.
“Now, that would give me hope,” Maya decides.
“So, really.” Wren pushes her plate aside and folds her arms on the table. “Besides Tiana, what do you think about your new school? And what about your new house?” she adds.
“The house is nice.” Boy, that sure sounded sincere. “And school is fine. It’s… big. There are a lot of people.”
“Yeah, but you’ll get used to it,” Maya muses, playing with her straw. “And you’ll get used to Carter, too.”
Have I said anything that makes them think Carter is a problem? Wait, who am I kidding? They know him. They have to know he’s a problem. “I guess,” I murmur, taking a sip of my soda.
“What about the party tomorrow? You’ll be there, right?” Wren asks.
“Do you doubt I could do it?” A shiver creeps down my spine when I remember Carter’s parting words yesterday. His threats. “I’ll be at the house, probably, but I won’t be at the party.”
“How come?” Maya asks. Is she for real? After what she just witnessed back in the bathroom at school—not to mention everything else about me—she’s genuinely surprised I wouldn’t want to join the party?
“I get it,” Wren interjects while I fumble around for something to say. I’m already exhausted from all this socializing, but I don’t want to be rude. “A lot of people you don’t know, plus things can get kind of crazy at Carter’s parties. Maybe I’ll hang out with you, if you wouldn’t mind,” she jokes.
“You’ll find me in my room,” I tell her. I genuinely wouldn’t mind hanging out with her. That is beyond unusual, but then this whole interaction is unusual. Being defended by virtual strangers, girls who seem genuinely interested in hanging out with me. Girls who are kind and accepting and welcoming. Did I forget there are people like this in the world? Did I ever know in the first place?
“But really, I won’t be much fun. I mean, I’m a little nervous just sitting here with you two,” I admit with a nervous laugh. “Imagine me when there’s a million people in the house.”
“Maybe you’ll feel differently tomorrow.” Maya seems dead set on this.
“If Carter is the one who told you to stay in your room, maybe he needs to be reminded it’s your house, too.” Wren wears a knowing smirk when I look at her in surprise.
She’s not wrong. It is my house now. And it would piss him off to no end if I made an appearance. That alone makes the idea of venturing out of my room tomorrow night a little too tempting. “I don’t know. We’ll see.” I still highly doubt I’ll go through with it, but I don’t want to come off like I’m being impossible. They’ve been so nice. I don’t want to ruin it.
I hate feeling like I have to weigh every word, but I don’t have a lot of experience socializing. It’s a chicken-and-egg situation—I would probably be more comfortable if I had more experience, but I’m too uncomfortable to stick my neck out and give it a try. I’ve been burned too many times, and too severely. Those memories are an invisible but very real and very solid wall separating me from everyone around me. They swirl in my mind as I follow the girls out of the diner, feeling like the odd one out. The pity friend.