Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“That’s fine,” I choke out. “Whatever you want to do is fine.” My voice cracks on the last word, my emotions getting the best of me. It’s been a while since I’ve let Sierra see my hurt. When I realized my emotions would only push her farther away, I started to hold it all in.
Sierra’s brows furrow in what looks like concern, and for a moment I wonder if maybe she does still care. But then her phone rings, breaking the moment. She pulls it out of her back pocket and checks the screen. Her eyes flit from the phone to me like she’s warring with herself. I hold my breath, waiting to see what happens next.
“It’s Imani. She’s picking me up to go to a party.” Imani is her best friend. She’s also the biggest slut at school, and is known to do drugs and drink until she passes out every weekend. Therefore, she’s the perfect friend for Sierra because she doesn’t have to actually be a friend. She doesn’t have to open her heart up to her. Their friendship is fake and superficial, exactly what Sierra wants because it’s safe.
“Okay.” I nod once and walk out of the room.
When I get to the kitchen, Jordan is standing at the sink, peeling potatoes. “Do you need any help?” I ask her. The door slams closed, indicating Sierra left, but neither of us acknowledges it. Jordan knows we’re not speaking, but she doesn’t get involved. It’s not her job. She also doesn’t know how hard Sierra likes to party. I considered telling her, but was afraid instead of getting her help, she’d kick us out.
“That would be great, thanks.” She hands me the knife, so I can cut once she peels. “Did Sierra ask you about the beach?”
“Yeah, I told her I’d go.”
“I’m sorry to put you in that position.” Jordan glances over at me, her lips curving into an apologetic smile. “It’s just that she’s only seventeen…”
“I know… I get it.” Jordan is our foster parent. She’s not the most nurturing, but when everyone else only had room for one teenager, she was willing to take us together.
Because I’m eighteen, I’m no longer the state’s problem. But since Sierra and I are only ten months apart, and both graduating in less than two months, Jordan agreed to let me stay here until graduation.
“If you need some money…”
“No, it’s okay. I’m good, but thank you.” Because of me being eighteen, Jordan no longer gets any checks from the state to help support me. She insists on still covering all my living expenses, including food, which is more than she has to do. Not wanting to take advantage, I work at the local bookstore for anything extra I might need. In May, when we graduate, I’ll be heading to South Carolina to go to college. I was accepted for early admission, so I’ll be starting my summer classes the same week we graduate.
Between my academic scholarship and financial aid, I’ll have everything covered, including my food and housing. I’ll even have a little extra left over, which will allow me to focus on school and not have to work.
I’m assuming since Sierra is no longer planning to move with me, she’ll continue to live with Jordan until she turns eighteen in August and then I’m not sure what she’s going to do. I don’t even think she knows what she’s going to do.
After we finish the potatoes, I excuse myself back to my room to read, and Jordan tells me she’ll let me know when dinner is ready. While I’m lost in the love triangle between Catherine, Heathcliff, and Edgar, my cell phone dings with an incoming text. Since I tend to keep to myself, I know without looking it’s Sierra. Setting my book down next to me, I grab my phone from the nightstand and read the text.
S: We’re leaving early Saturday morning, and Imani is driving. She said it’s cool if you ride with us.
I roll my eyes at her text. Being that neither of us has a car, and I’m only going for her, it’s kind of a given I would have to ride with her friends. I mean, how else would I get there? By cab? By foot?
Not wanting to fight with her, I reply with an okay, then drop my phone back onto the nightstand. I pick my book back up, but I’m no longer in the mood to read. The thing I’ve learned about Wuthering Heights is that you have to be able to focus when you’re reading it. It was written in the eighteen hundreds and the language is hard to understand. It’s my first time reading it, so I’m finding I have to read each chapter a couple times to fully grasp what’s happening.