Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Ignoring his poutiness, I hurry into the house to look for Ms. Frazier. I find her already at the kitchen table with Roux with a textbook open. Charlotte, Roux’s new friend she prattled on and on about today on the way here, grins at me.
“I can help too, right, Aunt Karen? I’m good at math like Hollis.” She beams at me. “This is so exciting!”
Roux giggles and it causes tiny cracks to form inside of me. My sister rarely smiles or laughs. The ride home and her incessant talking about a new friend was so out of character for her, Jordy shot several worried glances my way.
“I’m not here to do schoolwork,” I tell the bubbly girl. “I have other work to do.”
Ms. Frazier chuckles. “You could always join us for some math problems.”
“Pass,” I say with a smile as I walk over to the oven to peek in at what’s cooking. “What am I doing today?”
“The attic’s a mess. If you want to make sense of it, that’d be a great help. My sister Kelsey brought in a bunch of boxes when they moved up here over winter break, so everything is just thrown on top of everything else.”
I give a nod and start out of the kitchen.
“You’re still staying for dinner, right?” Ms. Frazier asks.
The thought of having dinner with Hollis makes me see red. But life isn’t about me. It’s about Roux. And Roux getting a home-cooked meal is more important than having to look at some asshole while I eat.
“Duh,” I tease. “We never pass up lasagna night.”
Charlotte squeals with excitement and Roux giggles again.
Needing space from this new situation, I drop my bag by the sofa and then rush up the stairs. I pass by Ms. Frazier’s office and groan when I realize it now has a bed. Hollis lies on top of it face down.
Messenger bag smashed beneath him.
Coat and shoes still on.
The air is thick with despair.
What the fuck does he have to be unhappy about?
A spike of pleasure shoots through me at the thought of me causing the despair. It’s only fair since he’s kind of fucked up my world.
And then I hear it.
A whine.
Pained and sad.
Familiar.
It spooks me because I recognize it as my own. I don’t understand how this kid can have everything and hurt like I do, but I feel it. I can almost taste it. From experience, that shit doesn’t come from one day of dealing with assholes like me.
That sort of pain is slashed into you over time.
Inflicted day after day.
Ongoing mental torture.
I backpedal away from his room and rush to the end of the hall where the attic door string hangs. With a quick yank, I pull down the ladder and make my way up. It’s cold up here, but I know I’ll sweat my ass off by the time I’m done. All the jobs I do for Ms. Frazier are labor-intensive. Basically, I work my ass off in trade for her to tutor Roux two times a week.
Ignoring the chill, I begin with her Christmas boxes that were recently thrown in one corner. Had she called me after Christmas, I would’ve taken it all down, but when school is out, Ms. Frazier doesn’t ask for help. It’s strictly a trade for Roux. Two years ago, Ms. Frazier offered to do it for free, but I hate fucking handouts. We made a bargain that I’d work to pay for it, and it’s been that way ever since.
My mind lingers on Roux as I organize the boxes. She struggles so much with life in general. Mom is a piece of shit who can’t keep food in the pantry. If it weren’t for me forcing her ass to get her food stamps, Roux and I would starve. Her boyfriends are always worthless assholes who keep her laid up in bed, moaning like a whore, with God knows what sort of drugs running through her veins. Frankly, our home life sucks, which is why I’ve always been grateful for these two days a week of normalcy for Roux. We can relax, feel wanted, and eat real food.
A twist of my gut reminds me I’m hungry. Since we get free lunch, one lunch is all we get, though on basketball days, I could eat a helluva lot more than the school dishes out. This afternoon, Coach Rendell ran us hard. Jordy complained like a little bitch. Cal, the energetic bastard, just laughed at us. Terrence was too busy cleaning Sharpie off the vending machines and missed practice, which means he’ll be benched Friday. All that running made me hungry as fuck.
I manage to get the Christmas decorations put away in a better spot and then work on the boxes labeled “Kelsey.” I open one and pull out a picture frame. A pretty woman who looks like Hollis smiles at the camera. Beside her is a man with a serious expression and three kids. Hollis grins like his mother and sister Charlotte. The other little girl is expressionless.