Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
“I can’t lose my spot there,” I say desperately, as though she has any weight in the decision. Thalia looks a little sad. She pities me. Why wouldn’t she? She got the boy, the talent, and the opportunity. I got nothing.
“Bailey.” She shakes my touch off gently. “You can’t even stretch properly. I think training is off the table right now.”
“Oh, but I could train. If only I had painkillers.” I suck in a breath. Real painkillers. And lots of them. Not the stuff I have found lying around home. Those feel like Skittles.
She sighs, looking away from me. I have a feeling she wants to say something more.
“What? Tell me.” I dig my fingers into her skin. “Do you know somewhere I can get some?”
“Bailey, please.” She heads for her bottle of water, swinging her hips lightly. “That’s a terrible idea.”
I chase her, limping on my busted leg. “Come on!” I beg. “I have to get out of here. Go back to Juilliard…”
Then an idea pops into my head. A manipulative, horrible idea but one that might nudge her in the right direction.
“You know Lev’ll stay here if I’m not okay, right? We’ve always held each other back. When one of us is in trouble, the other stops everything and goes to their rescue. It’s totally toxic. He’ll never leave here as long as I’m around.”
That makes her stop. She closes her eyes, taking a sip of her water. “You’re that close?”
“Dude!” I throw my hands in the air. “I was there when his mom died. You don’t stand a chance.”
I hate myself. I feel sick to my stomach. I’m using Rosie’s death to score. I officially stooped to the lowest form of human I could become. I think. Thalia’s face twists in horror.
“Look, I know you’re not an addict. Sports injuries aren’t something new to me. Had them plenty of times. If you’re really serious about getting back to Juilliard…” She trails off.
Hope blooms in my chest. “Yes?”
Thalia presses her lips for a moment, then sighs. “I know someone. He sells prescription drugs. They’re legit, regulated; his dad owns the CVS on Soledad Avenue. But if I find out you’re using dangerously, Bailey…” She shakes her head. “I’m telling Lev.”
There’s a fleeting moment of clarity where I realize I have an opportunity to kick the habit and turn my back on the drugs and that maybe I should tell her to forget the entire thing.
But then Thalia grabs her backpack, takes out a notebook, rips a page out of it, and unlocks her phone. She starts scribbling down a number on the piece of paper. “His name is Sydney. He looks like a dork, but trust me, he’s connected as fuck.”
Thalia waltzes toward me, her movements agile and purposeful.
The way mine were before I accumulated enough injuries to last an entire NBA season. She folds the paper and tucks it into the elastic of my leggings. “Just do me a favor?”
“Don’t tell Lev?” I fight an eye roll.
She smiles. “You know how he is.”
“Yeah.” Never trust a person who tells you to keep secrets from people who care about you.
I walk Thalia back to the front door and close it behind her. My sister is upstairs, slinging her Hermes bag over her shoulder. She peers out the window, probably waiting for an Uber.
I put my hand on my sister’s shoulder, not really feeling anything, and she jerks back, like I’m a stranger at a train station trying to grope her.
She hikes her bag up her shoulder with a scowl, and it’s all there in her eyes. The pain. The rejection. The confusion.
“You’re really far gone, aren’t you?” She scoffs. “I caught an emergency flight to have a heart-to-heart with you, and you locked yourself in the basement with this snake with a blond wig instead.”
My jaw drops. “Thalia’s nice.”
She tips her head back and laughs humorlessly. “Thalia is a manipulator. Trust me, it takes one to know one. She’s probably planning your demise right now, as we speak.”
“How do you—”
“Heard enough through the door before giving up on you.”
My head is spinning. I know I deserve her wrath, but I feel so sorry for myself that everyone isn’t cutting me slack.
“You’ve given up on me?” I choke out.
No matter how bad things were with Daria when she was a teenager, she always loved me. I was as sure of it as the sun rising in the east. My sister always had my back.
She opens her mouth, just when a luxurious BMW slips into the cul-de-sac to take her to the airport.
“No, sweetie. You did that to yourself. If life has taught me one lesson, it’s that you need to take accountability for the situations you insert yourself into. Let me know when I can help. Because that front-row ticket to your demise? I don’t want it.”