Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
I didn’t know why I hoped someone would be waiting for me here. Hadn’t I learned anything in my years at Andrew Dexter Academy?
Summer vacation was going to be long, lonely, and full of tension. I should’ve stayed back.
I dragged my ass to the entrance and raised my fist to knock on the door before remembering, Fuck it, this place is going to be mine one day.
I pushed it open all the way. Servants were rushing back and forth. No sign of Dad, Miranda, and Gracelynn.
“Welcome home, Arsène. Your father asked me to tell you that he, your stepsister, and your stepmother went to the country club. There’s a golf tournament.” Bernard halted in front of me, a manila file under his arm. “They should be back soon. Do you need help settling in? Some refreshments, maybe?”
I shook my head.
I went upstairs to my room and dumped the bags onto the floor. I glanced around, and it didn’t take a genius to see what had happened here. Gracelynn had taken over my space. It wasn’t pink central or anything, but my closet was open and full of glittery sneakers. The desk was littered with her textbooks, pastel Sharpies, and heart-shaped Post-it Notes. There were scrunchies on my unmade bed.
What the fuck? This place had dozens of rooms. She could’ve picked any one of them as her second room. But this was not accidental. She was trying to send a message—I was no longer a part of this household.
Defiant, I flung myself on the bed and rubbed my unwashed self over the linen, just to be a dick. Then I stared at the ceiling. The bed still smelled of Gracelynn. Her shampoo and French perfume and expensive nail polish. Why’d she sleep here? It seemed like such a weird thing to do.
The entrance door downstairs opened and shut. Laughter filled the foyer. Dad. Miranda. Gracelynn. They were talking animatedly. My gut twisted with anger.
How fucking lovely: they’d managed to become one happy family the minute I became “manageable.”
“He’s here,” I heard one of the servants announce, and I knew she was talking about me. But as I waited—ten, fifteen, twenty minutes—no one from my so-called family knocked on my door.
This was how it remained for the next few hours. A battle of wills and ego. Who was going to approach who first? Dad or me. Only I was a goddamn fifteen-year-old and he was the grown-ass man who chose his wife over his son.
Skipping dinner was a no-brainer. My stomach grumbled with hunger, but I’d rather die before losing this ego game with Dad. When everyone went to bed, I tiptoed my way down to the kitchen and ate three plates of leftovers. Then I went upstairs to the roof through the laundry-room window, and stargazed.
I spotted Mercury, Saturn, Venus, Mars, and Jupiter. If I squinted real hard, I could even pretend to see the rings on Saturn. Stars calmed me down. Their existence. The knowledge there were universes out there that were so much bigger than my shitty existence.
Proportions. Yeah, that’s the reason I liked astronomy so much. It put everything in proportion.
The next morning, I was a no-show at breakfast. Conversation was tense as it drifted up to my room. Doug was cracking, knowing his sole heir would rather drink his own piss than share a dining table with him.
By noon, Dad and Miranda sent Gracelynn to knock on my door.
“Come in,” I said, after letting her wait outside my room for nine full minutes, and even gritted out in frustration, “Come on now, I know you’re there.”
She pushed the door open. She’d gotten taller. There were pimples on her chin, and she had colorful braces. She didn’t look good, and that made me happy.
I’d filled out during our time apart. I knew I looked handsome because I got hit on all the time. And I knew Gracelynn figured as much, because she couldn’t stop staring at me.
She gnawed on her inner cheek, clenching the doorknob tightly. “We’re going to the movies. Mom and Dad asked if you wanna tag along.”
“She’s not my mom, and he’s not your dad,” I said matter-of-factly, bouncing a tennis ball onto the ceiling and back to me repeatedly. “And pass.”
“You don’t even know what we’re watching.” She sounded whiny and a little stressed. She didn’t want to disappoint Doug and Miranda. After all, being the favorite child was her full-time job.
“Unless it’s a live show of you getting wedgied by every single person we went to school with, I remain uninterested.”
“I see you haven’t changed at all.” Her pimply chin quivered.
“Of course I did.” I smirked, my gaze still hard on the bouncing ball. “I no longer care for you. Not in the slightest.”
“I’m your stepsister!”
“You’re a liar.”
She turned away and slammed the door behind her.