Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
“You can’t just go around tasing people. We’ve talked about this. Innocent until proven guilty,” August yelled again. “I don’t hate her enough to tase her.”
“Well…” His dad put his weapon away. “Obviously not since her tongue was down your throat. Or vice versa. You know, there are better ways to tell a girl you like her.”
Hear, hear.
Still couldn’t talk.
His dad leaned against the wall. “Son, you don’t need to pull her hair or throw rocks, send a note in class, or ask her to circle things then hold hands at skate night—“
“Oh, God, here we go,” August muttered under his breath, still sitting next to my lifeless body. “I know, Dad. I’m a full-ass grown adult.”
His dad looked at me, then at August, then back at me. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, only red pajama bottoms and a black baseball hat that said, Yee-Haw. I mean, for a dad, he looked pretty fit. Good for him. He even had some marginally attractive chest hair.
I’d give him a thumbs-up, but my situation was dire, and I had no life in my bones.
August’s dad looked between us again. “Yes, clearly you are a full-ass grown adult who, according to Travis—one of my best friends, mind you—has been on some weird prank-hate war with Hazel.” He did a double take. “Oh, God. Hazel?”
“Mhiiiii.” I tried to speak, but it came out sounding like I’m high. Not the best start.
“You’re Bigfoot.”
He said it like it was true, like the actual myth had just been solved. At that point, what did someone do but nod?
So, I did.
He sighed. “I’m calling your dad. This prank war stops now. In fact, no…” He started walking away, then turned back around. “You guys settle this without us. We have enough stress.” He didn’t say it, but I knew he meant his wife. “Enough stress,” he said again. “Without dealing with whatever the hell you guys have going on here. Pack up. You’ll get the Jeep, August. Solve whatever the hell issues you guys have in the mountains. When you come back, you’d better actually be functioning adults in society.”
“Dad,” August piped up. “We are. This has nothing to do with anything but her being a spoiled princess and me making some jokes.”
“And…” I just had to have the last word, didn’t I? “He was mean to me in high school.”
Oh, wow. That was literally all I had.
Both stared at me while I sat there in a stupid costume with plastic folding and melting into my skin. I even had one weird claw on my right hand held up like I had an actual point to make, other than the fact that I had crept into their house in a full Bigfoot costume just to get the upper hand.
Ha, hand. See? Get it?
I hung my head. “Sorry.”
“Six. It’s six a.m.!” his dad shouted. “In the morning. Get your shit together, you’re going camping, and you’re working out whatever the hell is going on. Touch some grass, look at deer, see nature, get eaten by a bear, I don’t care. Maybe we did you guys wrong raising you in the city. Do you even know where your food comes from?” He sighed. “Never mind. Just go, go, go, go. And, Hazel, if I see that costume again, I’m burning it.”
“Agreed,” August said under his breath.
I sneered at him, then immediately looked at his dad and felt a weird need to bow. “Sorry.”
“Go,” he said again. “And I’m calling your dad, damn it. You guys are in your twenties but act like you’re still in middle school. Stupid baby boomers did every generation wrong after them. The hell?”
I hung my head as I passed him and walked home. I knew I was in trouble when my dad opened the door after I stepped onto the grass by the tree.
His arms were folded. Mom was next to him, and my sixteen-year-old brother was eating ice cream and eyeing me with judgmental eyes.
Yeah, I was in deep shit.
And now, I was going camping with the enemy.
“Inside, Bigfoot. NOW!” Dad roared.
He didn’t have to ask me twice.
Chapter Seven
“Road trips are for the strong. Coffee is for the weak.”—Hazel Titus
August
“I’m driving,” I announced. “No way in hell do I trust you to operate a motor vehicle after sneaking into my house at six a.m. with a Bigfoot costume on, then mauling me with your face.”
Scared the shit out of me. I would take it to my grave. The plastic claws would haunt me for an eternity. How did it look so real? Maybe I was just hallucinating, but it wasn’t a cool prank. I mean, I was in until that moment, then I was just straight up like…nope, tapping out, not fun. Yet she kept it going.
Honestly, how did we even get into this situation? As adults and college graduates—at least, in her case—where and how the hell did our summer turn into a prank war? Normally, I’d say it was stupidity or boredom, but I wasn’t even sure anymore. All I knew was that our parents were pissed, and we had to bury whatever hatchet we had between us and make it work.