Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“Well…I am pretty likable.” My eyebrows moved up and down playfully.
He rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous is what you are.”
“If I’m ridiculous, you’re ridiculous.” Jojo wasn’t, of course. He wasn’t as cocky as me, but everyone always said that wherever Joey went, I did, and vice versa, except baseball for me and his smart-guy stuff for him. It led to an ongoing joke between us that whatever one of us was, the other was as well. We were different in a shit ton of ways, but like I said, we were us. A pair. A package deal.
His father didn’t love me, but he was the chief of police and I was the son of the town’s drunk, so whatever. There was no love lost between us. I hated the bastard. He liked to put his hands on Joey in anger sometimes. Even more often, he said mean things to him. I thought that made him worse than if he were drinking like my dad, but then, no one knew about Jojo’s father. He wouldn’t let me tell.
“Does that mean I’m so hot too?” Jojo asked.
“Well…there have to be some differences between us.”
He flipped me off just as Angie told Kevin, “Jesus Christ, Romeo. Why are you the biggest gossip in the history of the world?” She had this high-pitched, kind of squeaky voice, which was how she’d gotten the nickname Mouse. Angie wasn’t ever quiet like one, though. Kevin’s nickname was Romeo because…well, because he was always doing stuff like this, gossiping about who likes who, and who wants to hook up with who. Plus, he thought he loved every girl he dated, but really, I thought the only one he loved was Mouse, only she wouldn’t date him.
“To give you something to complain about?” Romeo replied. “Seems like you always need a reason.”
The two of them fell down the hole they always did, arguing with each other.
While my dad liked the bottle too much, Mouse’s mom was known for sleeping with every guy in town. I didn’t know why people gave a shit so much. Who cared if consenting adults liked to have sex? Occasionally I’d wake up in the morning to find her mom at our place, having stumbled into bed with my dad after a night out at the bar.
I knew it bothered Mouse more than she would ever admit. She acted like it didn’t, but every time someone said something, there was a flash of deep pain in her eyes. She had the same reputation as her mom, and I thought she did that on purpose. Like in solidarity or something. It was one of the many reasons I was fond of punching people who called Mouse or her mom a slut.
If I weren’t good at baseball, my fights and grades would have probably gotten me expelled. Baseball I could handle on my own, and Joey tried to make me less dumb. He thought it worked. I didn’t.
“Why do you guys always have to argue?” Jojo grumbled. “It’s annoying as shit.”
The answer to that was they were trying to deny how much they liked each other. Romeo would admit it, given the chance. Mouse never would.
“Why does Gage have a God complex? We are who we are,” Romeo replied.
Luckily, the bell rang then. Not that I wanted to go to class, but even more than that, I didn’t want to play referee. I pushed to my feet and held my hand out for Jojo. He took it, and I helped him up as Romeo and Mouse stood too. They started talking about homework, and just like that, the argument was forgotten.
“Catch you later, Joey. See you, Hero,” Mouse said. I hated that stupid fucking nickname. I wasn’t anyone’s hero and didn’t want to be, but they seemed to think it was my thing. Being there for people you cared about should be something everyone did, not something that made you a hero.
“Did you do your homework?” Jojo asked as I lifted my backpack and we began walking toward class.
“No comment.” The conversation didn’t surprise me—he always checked on me—so I added, “I already have a decent grade. I just have to do enough to get by. I tried and…well, you know.” Sometimes it was easier than others. When we could, Joey and I did homework together, and he read things aloud to me or helped me work through them myself. A lot of the time, I would answer questions, or I’d dictate an essay to him—because otherwise, I’d spell everything wrong or get confused—and he would write it for me, making sure the handwriting wasn’t the same. Now, however, he had a part-time job bagging groceries, and he’d had to work. “Also, it’s stupid.”
He rolled his eyes at me. Jojo did that a lot. Honestly, I really thought it was. Yeah, when we graduated at the end of the year, the four of us wanted to get the hell out of Hendersonville, the small Northern California town we were all cursed to live in. We had all these plans of spending next summer traveling around the US before settling in Southern California, but I wasn’t so sure it would happen. They all talked about it like it would, but I wasn’t overly optimistic. Plus, me and school would never mix. Jojo was going to study astronomy, Mouse art, Romeo to become a teacher, and I would be the guy who tagged along, if I got to go at all.