Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
She sighed. “Okay.”
Then she went inside, and I was left wondering what that was all about.
Every single Monday and Friday I did a sweep of the parking lot with Dooley, and every single week the woman asked me questions that she likely knew the answers to.
As I passed with Dooley past a certain teacher’s car that I couldn’t stop fucking thinking about, I hurried faster, not wanting to look at the laundry basket in the backseat that had a hot pink thong on top. Nor the lacy black bra that probably made her breasts look magnificent.
I also didn’t notice the bag of Doritos open on her front seat as if she’d been eating them on the way to school.
I grinned, thinking that I was going to get her for that later during boot camp, and stalled out when Dooley hit on the car beside Camryn’s.
Fuck.
Sixty minutes later, I was filling out a police report and the new track teacher, who’d literally been hired just a week ago, was meeting with the principal, likely about to be fired.
A crowd had gathered, and it wasn’t a surprise to see Camryn in the crowd of onlookers.
Her eyes narrowed on the car I was standing at—which was hers—when she started to stomp forward.
I knew what she was thinking. She was thinking that Dooley had a hit on her car, not the one beside it. I could practically see the fire as it lit inside of her.
Luckily, everything had already been taken care of and the only ones left in the parking lot were the teachers that had break during this particular period. Camryn being one of those teachers.
She narrowed her eyes on me, her face a mask of anger, and started to stomp her way toward me.
She didn’t stop until we faced each other across the hood of her car.
“Those aren’t my Doritos!” she declared loudly.
My brows rose. “They’re not? They’re in your car.”
Her arms crossed over her chest. “I was having a weak moment. I only smelled them.”
I could feel my lips twitching, and soon I would start out and out laughing.
I managed to hold onto my hilarity, but only by the smallest of fractions.
“You only smelled them,” I said, trying to keep my lips from betraying the smile. “Are you sure about that?”
She sighed, and her shoulders shrugged. “I licked one, too.”
It was at that point that I realized I wouldn’t be able to do it. I had to laugh. I just couldn’t help it.
“Oh, Elvis, I knew you’d break,” I teased her, unable to help myself.
Her arms went tighter across her chest, and she started to tap her foot. I could hear it against the rocks of the parking lot shifting beneath her foot.
“I didn’t cheat,” she repeated. “Cheating would mean that I had carbs, which I didn’t. There are no carbs in the cheesy stuff that’s on the chip itself.”
“How do I know that you’re not lying just to get me off your back?” I asked curiously.
I believed her, but she didn’t need to know that.
“I have the licked off chips on the floorboard. Look.” She pointed in the direction of the chips, and I started to chuckle.
There were like eight licked-clean chips on the floor of her car, and all of them were whole.
“That’s very odd,” I lobbed her way.
“I’m an odd duck, what can I say?” she shrugged, uncaring.
“What did you have for breakfast besides the cheese off of those Doritos?” I questioned, finding myself unwilling to end this ludicrous conversation.
“I had a shake,” she admitted. “One of those chocolate protein ones that tasted like death and children’s tears.”
I chuckled, and Dooley decided to lay down at my feet and knock me slightly off balance as he did.
Her eyes went to the dog, and then immediately came back to me.
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged, acting for all the world like she was unaffected when we both knew that she was. “It was a long time ago. I should be over the fear by now.” She paused. “Did Carmichael tell you?”
I nodded. “She did.”
She looked at her hands. “It’s not a rational fear. I try to act like a non-sissy, but each time I tell myself to grow a pair, I think about what it felt like to be bitten and I’m back in that place all over again.”
“What happened?”
Hearing the story straight from her mouth was no better than hearing it from my sister’s. I’d hoped that Carmichael had heard wrong, but obviously she hadn’t.
“That’s a one in a million chance of that happening,” I admitted. “And the handler obviously didn’t have good control of his dog. I can’t imagine that happening, especially to a young girl.”
I promised myself yesterday that I wouldn’t look into the matter. But, my curiosity was killing me, and I wanted to know more. I wanted to know everything about the situation, and why something so monumental had gone wrong.