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)
“Before you start on me, I’m doing my best,” I whisper, jamming my hands into the pockets of my shorts since he won’t like it much if he sees the way they keep curling into fists.
“That’s your best? Acting like a spoiled brat back there? I tried to let it go last night, but I can’t let you continue this way.” He looks like a bull ready to charge when he lowers his brow and grunts, “We are going to be a solid family unit.”
It can’t be forced. Right. Like he would listen if I told him. “You’re pushing too hard on her,” I whisper. Is she near the room? I hope she is. I want her to hear this. “She’s scared of everything. She won’t talk. She won’t even look at us. And the more you try to push her out of her shell or whatever it is, the harder she’ll fight to stay in it.”
“The only way to get her out of her shell is to make sure she knows she’s safe here.” He looks toward the hall too, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Irene said something about her having trouble years back, but that’s really all she said. After that, she can’t face people.”
“Who hasn’t had trouble? Like I said, you can’t force her. I’m not going to. It’s a waste of time.”
His jaw tightens in a way that tells me he’s fighting as hard as I am to keep a cool head. “You will be kind to her. You will make her feel welcome, and that is all there is to it. Do we understand each other?”
I understand him. It’s a shame he can’t be bothered to understand me. “Gotcha.” I can’t hide my irritation—not that I try very hard, either—rolling my eyes as I leave the room.
He’s quick for a guy his age, taking hold of my arm. His hand is like an iron claw. “Lose the attitude,” he warns. “I need you to go along with me on this. It matters to me. Is that not enough?”
“I told you, I’ve got it.” He will beat a dead horse until it’s nothing but pink mist. Like somewhere along the way, he got the idea that the more he talks, the more people will take him seriously. It doesn’t matter that he drove a point home already. He needs to keep going until he gets whatever reaction he’s waiting for.
One thing is for sure by the time he decides it’s safe to release me: I am in no fucking mood to chat up my new stepsister. At least Wren and Maya are nice and friendly. They’ll probably take her under their wing. Better them than me.
The mousy little freak is waiting at the front door with her backpack slung over her shoulder. She grips the strap in one fist, clenched so tight her hand shakes as I approach. Should I say something kind, something to reassure her? Would she listen if I did? It’s not worth the breath.
Still, it’s around fifteen minutes to school, and fifteen minutes is a long time to spend in silence. We are only at the end of the block with her practically hugging the passenger side door of my truck before I offer, “My friends Briggs and Tucker have girlfriends I can introduce you to.” I glance at her. “They’re nice girls.”
I’m looking through the windshield but can see her from the corner of my eye, so I’m treated to the sight of her shoulders lifting further than ever. What the fuck? “Most of the time we end up getting together for lunch if our schedules are free, but today they were planning on having breakfast together. You could meet them,” I suggest.
Maybe I would get a reaction if I threatened to drive headfirst into the concrete divider put in place for the road crew repaving part of the street we’re rolling down. Maybe I would have to go through with crashing.
By the time I’m waiting for passing traffic to clear so I can turn into the parking lot, I have to tell myself at least I tried. She is fucking determined to shut me out. I’m tired of talking to myself.
The parking lot is already halfway full by the time I pull into a spot close to a grassy stretch where handfuls of students are hanging out—sitting around, tossing a football, taking selfies in the sunshine.
She couldn’t be more unlike them. Before putting the car in park, I watch her watching them, staring out through those ugly glasses that take up so much of her face. Like she’s from another planet, studying alien life forms.
“Do you wanna come with me? Come and meet my friends?” I don’t know why, but I feel like I have to give her one more chance. Maybe it’s my way of reminding myself there’s only so much I can do.