Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Dominic laughed. “Get the fuck outta hea’. Don’t tell me you liked the piece.”
“Sebastian!” one of the girls hollered from the gaming center. “I passed the class!”
“Fuckin’ A, Cindy. That’s fantastic—be proud of yourself,” I told her. She wasn’t the only one of our regulars who was in summer school. Maggie, one of our volunteers, had been busy tutoring all summer. So had Adrian, another volunteer and friend, not to mention an actual teacher, and Dominic’s man.
Cindy beamed at me before going back to her game.
Facing Dominic again, I shrugged and trapped my helmet under one arm, then folded up the sleeves on my shirt. I had to do laundry soon. All my tees were in the hamper, leaving me with beaters and flannel shirts. It was way too hot out for that combo.
“That’s all you have to say?” Dominic asked, widening his arms. “A shrug?” He was such a fucking New Yorker. Always speaking with his hands, as if his loud mouth weren’t enough.
I passed Tarion at the picnic tables, and he held up his fist. I bumped it with mine on my way to Dominic.
“You didn’t like it,” Dominic insisted. “That ain’t your brand of limelight.”
He wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t going to admit shit. In the two years I’d known the punk, we’d forged a work relationship that had made some kids ask if he was my little brother. We were similar in a way, laid-back and the opposite of modest, but at the same time, we only enjoyed an audience until we realized there was one. So on slow days, we used that against each other to get a rise, him more so than me. He could get away with it; he was still in his midtwenties. I was approaching forty too quickly, which came with expectations and bullshit. When I turned thirty-eight earlier this year, I’d suffered a minor crisis and considered going back to school to “get a proper education.” Thankfully, I snapped the fuck out of that and remembered I loved my life the way it was. With all its uncertainties.
Dominic followed me to the staff room where we had our lockers—except for him; he was one of the very few who was actually employed here, and he had taken over after Maggie’s husband had retired. He had his own office next to our counselor’s office.
“Come on,” he pressed. “Give me something.”
I chuckled and opened my locker to stow away my helmet. “You’re acting like a junkie. You already know my biggest issue with the article. I told her to push for donations so we can expand, but she barely mentioned it.”
“Yeah, I noticed that.” He scratched his nose and leaned against another locker. “Maybe she forgot because your eyes took her prisoner?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. I slammed the locker shut and stared him down.
He guffawed.
So much for the option where I owned it…
“I need six volunteers to help out with supper!” I hollered across the Quad. “And there’s a loaf of bread from Linda’s Bakery to bring home for the three volunteers who do the dishes afterward!”
Today, we were having grilled cheese and chicken salad. We had plenty of generous donors in town, mainly small businesses in the restaurant industry, but meat was understandably more difficult to get our hands on. It was why we volunteers pitched in with twenty bucks from time to time so we could buy chicken and, in the summer, create some fun memories for the kids with weekly barbecues.
We worked well together, like a well-oiled machine, and the kids got to learn simple recipes and fend for themselves a little.
“I didn’t know you could make croutons yourself,” Vanessa noted.
“Oh yes, perfect way to use up stale bread, dear,” Maggie replied with a nod. She was full of little pro-tips and hacks. “You can also cut the bread into sticks, dip them in an egg wash, and roll them in sugar and cinnamon. Then you just fry ’em. Delicious dessert.”
“Damn, woman,” I muttered in passing. I had to try that sometime.
I cranked up the country music and bobbed my head to the beat as I carried another tray of grilled cheese sandwiches out to the café area.
It was our busiest time of day at the Quad. Some thirty kids were here now, several withdrawn and with shame tinting every movement because they didn’t always get food at home. It broke my fucking heart.
“Good to see you again, Serena.” I squeezed between Dominic and Tarion so I could wrap a couple sandwiches for Serena to bring home to her little brother. “Don’t forget to fill your backpack at the fruit table, yeah?” That was my pops’s contribution. In the summer and early fall, there were always a couple crates of fruit at the entrance.
She smiled timidly and accepted the sandwiches. “Thank you.”