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)
“But your arm…” He reached for me, but I jerked away in pain. “I think it’s broken. I heard a crack.”
“Oh. Well, maybe my dad will give you more money to make it feel better,” I yelled as tears started to truly fall down my cheeks.
I hated him.
I hated him so much. He always made everything worse. Made me feel worse. He teased and teased and teased.
Just like everyone else.
What if my dad really did pay him to be my friend?
My stomach sank. Knowing that I had to go into senior year while facing the rumors that he and his girlfriend spread—that I was so pathetic and friendless that my rich dad had to pay the boy next door—was worse than the physical throbbing in my left arm.
“Is it?” I asked in a choked whisper. “Is it actually true? Did he pay you?”
August’s eyes locked on mine, and he slowly nodded. “But not in the way you think—“
“I never want to see you again.” I sounded calm, but I was shaking from both emotional and physical pain. “Go away.”
“Hazel, I was just teasing earlier. I would—“
“Leave me alone,” I spat. “Now.”
The loudness brought both my mom and dad out.
“Hazel…” August leaned down to touch me, but I kicked at him, jarring my arm more as I rolled over in pain. “Stay still.”
“Stay gone,” I whispered. “You’re a hazard to my health.”
“But—“
“GO AWAY!” I screamed.
So, he did.
And I wouldn’t see him again for six years.
Chapter One
“Bear spray should be used with all caution unless it's dark, then you just spray until the screaming stops. After all, bears get intimidated by noise, right?”—Hazel Titus
August
Present Day
There were a lot of cars parked in the Titus’s driveway, an obscene number, which just seemed strange, even for them. They hosted events during the holidays, but it was June, and in all the years I’d lived in our house helping take care of my mom while my dad traveled for business, I’d never once seen an event that big.
“Hmmmm.” I kept sipping my coffee and staring out the window.
“Stalking?” My mom came up behind me. “Again?”
“Yes, because only the good stalkers are careful to watch in plain sight. Throws the victims off. I saw it on Dateline once. I would have graduated at the top of my class in stalker school. Ah, damn it. Missed opportunities.”
She patted me softly on the shoulder. It was a weak pat, just like it always was since her stroke four years ago—right when I was supposed to be going to college after taking a year off. Right when my life was supposed to begin…
Not that I hated my life, I was just a bit bored. But I felt like I couldn’t complain because at least I didn’t have to give up working altogether like my mom did. She’d started our companies. Now? She could read, go for some walks, nap, and maybe binge-watch Yellowstone. Her heart was weak, the left side of her face was still slack, and she tired easily—even with only being in her late fifties.
I sighed and looked away. “Mom, let me grab you a blanket.” I reached for her favorite quilt and was ready to settle her back onto the couch when I heard the fireworks.
I turned around and looked out the window.
Mom grabbed my arm and held onto it. “They must be celebrating something huge.”
“Yeah.” I patted her hand and pulled her close. “Must be incredible.”
I kept in the small amount of jealousy I had that Hazel could live her life while I was stuck with mine. I was happy, and yes, I would love my mom until the very end, but it didn’t make it any easier when I saw a party next door and a spoiled brat who had no idea how nice she had it.
I think I’d forever call it a flicker in the matrix. Something that made you pause.
A flicker—and more flickers—of her blond hair as she hugged her dad like she’d just cured cancer or something.
Her smile was huge.
She was wearing black, though.
And then I noticed that everyone was.
Frowning, I dropped my mom’s hand. “Be right back.”
She sat in her chair and nodded as if she knew my thoughts better than I did. I walked outside and next door. Right into that party.
Amidst the loudness and laughter, I realized too late...
It wasn’t a party.
It was a funeral.
Chapter Two
“Lipstick does not heal head trauma.”—August Wellington
Hazel
“Make it bright,” Great-Grandma said. I held her hand, and she wore the hat we’d gotten her as a gag gift: You Need Jesus.
At the time, we’d laughed. I was too young to understand what the moment meant. And in that moment, I’d collected all the memories of her smell, the way she patted my hand, and how her laughter always made everyone around her smile.
I never truly imagined a world where she didn’t exist. And then, suddenly, she was gone, and I was holding her hat and setting it on a cold, hard grave, unable to see the inscriptions because of the tears in my eyes. Most people left flowers, but I felt like, even in Heaven, Great-Grandma would laugh if she saw the black and white hat with its sparkles. I couldn’t bear to take it back with me and prayed it would just stay by her side or get taken by the wind.