Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Her head shook swiftly, her brown curls bouncing, and then she marched around me, her high heels clicking across the marble floor.
I watched her disappear before looking at Dad.
He stood from his chair as well, coming in my direction. When he was only a step away, he said, “I will talk with her, but in the meantime I want you to truly think about this, Jenny. This school is good for you and you only have two more years to go.”
His eyes went soft. Compassionate. It was clear Dad was the one that used to have all the fun when he was my age.
He understood me, but he simply wanted the best for me, like any good father would. Rubbing my shoulder and planting a kiss on the center of my forehead, he walked around me, calling after his dramatic wife.
When they were far out of my sight, I went to my bedroom, blasting Sam Smith and Adele. I wanted to drown out all sounds, and especially Mom, who purposely walked by my bedroom door, shouting at Dad, asking him how they ended up raising such a spoiled, selfish brat.
Let’s just say that after two days, Mom had no choice but to give in. She refused to have me transferred, and since she wanted to be childish, I played along with her petty game.
I skipped class. I missed one of the biggest music concerts of Lake Christian. She wasn’t pleased about me not showing up for the concert.
In fact, her anger had her flying up our two flights of stairs and barging into my room, shouting at me for being disobedient and wasting their time and hard-earned money.
Apparently she and Dad had gone to the concert to see me. The show ended up being cancelled because the lead singer wasn’t there and the back-up singer was sick. I was the lead singer.
I would have felt bad, but the choir director, Mr. Leo, was a dick anyway. He deserved to be embarrassed.
“Fine! If that’s how you want to be, go to your shitty school, Jennifer!” Mom shouted the night of the concert. “I don’t care anymore! You want to ruin your life, hang out with kids that are clearly going nowhere, then so be it. I will let you fail on your own. You’ll be just like Mitchell!” Her face was red, body vibrating with all-mighty fury, but then she went completely frozen after my brother’s name spilled from her fuming lips.
Her only son.
Her firstborn.
She swallowed thickly, the rims of her eyes now red and wet as she clutched my doorknob.
Grief swamped her damp eyes, the regret clear. I remained silent.
At first I was ready to snap back, but his name made all words lodge in my throat.
Before any tears were shed from her eyes, she was out of my room, slamming my door behind her and causing me to flinch from the quake of the walls.
When she was gone, I sat there for nearly two whole minutes, trying my hardest to collect myself—gather my shit.
It didn’t work. It never did. I wasn’t as strong as I seemed. I wept in the hollow solitude of my bedroom, curling up with the cold side of one of my pillows.
I wasn’t crying because she’d shouted at me—I’d become accustomed to that—but because she always blamed Mitchell instead of blaming herself. And also because I missed Mitchell, and needed him at times like this.
If she’d done something to help him, she would have understood why he never wanted to live up to what she wanted him to be.
Chapter 3
Jenny
High School - Senior Year
Who were my parents kidding?
Public school couldn’t have been better. I’d aced two years of it with the best grades in all my classes and all with minimal drama. It was great, so great it seemed my senior year had passed me in a complete blur.
The day before summer break, all of the seniors vowed to skip school and hang out. Trace, Kylie’s boyfriend, offered to buy us beers so we could pre-game—which I learned was to get a little drunk before the party began.
Trace was a college boy, three years ahead of us. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and two dimples that constantly made Kylie weak in the knees just thinking about them.
I could see why she’d fallen for him. Trace had a lot of charm and some devilishly wicked features. His only flaw was his extreme amount of confidence. Since he’d bagged Kylie, a girl every boy in Fox River wanted to bone, he considered himself special.
Everyone had skipped school that day. I had no assignments to complete, plus Kylie practically begged me over the phone the night before so I figured, what the hell?
In the morning we ate breakfast at a pancake house and that same night, our entire class met at the darkest side of the lake.