Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
The black sunglasses toppled off my face with the movement. I froze, realizing my hat had fallen off my face sometime during the bout.
Whispers floated across the benches. Some people pointed at me, obviously recognizing me. I waited for someone to get up and yell at me. To call me a fraud.
Instead, they mostly ignored me.
A few smiled.
Someone even asked for a selfie.
At the end of the tournament, Dallas and I made our way down the bleachers.
“Hey.”
Dallas pointed to me. “Is she talking to you?”
I spun, catching sight of a woman dressed head to toe in Lululemon.
She began marching to us from across the gym. “Did you tell my daughter something before her match?”
“Oh, shit.” Dallas nudged me. “She looks mad. Does she look mad?”
I backed up a step, dragging her with me. “Maybe we should get out of here.”
We pivoted to make a break for it, but Anna ran up to me, clutching my stomach in a hug.
“That was awesome. I did exactly as you said. Can you coach me? Please?” She pressed her palms together, waiting for the moment the lady caught up to us to say, “My mom coaches me right now, and she has no clue what she’s doing.”
Anna’s mom nodded, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s true. We just moved here. I haven’t had the chance to find her a coach. Are you open to new students?”
“Oh, um.” I toed a circle on the gym floor. “I…”
“She’s available.” Dallas beamed, lacing her fingers with mine. “She’s totally free.”
I rocked back and forth on my feet, not sure how to say this. “You know I…”
“Yeah. You’re Farrow Ballantine. We recognize you.” Anna’s mom offered a soft smile. “Everyone in the fencing world knows about the match in Korea.”
“Oh.” I wanted to make like Homer Simpson and disappear into the hedges.
“We all support you, by the way.” She offered a thumbs up. “Even before the news about your family stuff came out.”
I stared down at Anna, embarrassed, flattered, and a little weirded out by total strangers discussing my life like it was some Netflix true-crime documentary.
I mean, you never know. Tabby always wanted a shot at Hollywood.
Anna nodded, grinning. “If I knew that it was Farrow Ballantine under the weird glasses and hat, I would’ve listened to your advice sooner.” She turned to Dallas. “You let your friend leave the house like that?”
Just like that, on a sleepy weekday evening, I ended up the coach of a sassy thirteen-year-old.
T-MINUS 20 DAYS.
Today’s lethal dose of misery came from the usual suspects—Celeste Ayi, Mom, and their delusions that the wedding would continue as planned.
(Mom still refused to accept defeat. Celeste Ayi considered the prospect of returning her custom-made dress a national travesty.)
Mom sat at the island, before a massive binder that contained the names of every member of our family—past and present. “Zachary, are you not worried about finalizing the guest list?”
“Is someone getting married?” I stabbed into an egg yolk, just to watch it bleed, and moved on to the mango. “Certainly not me. My engagement was canceled.”
I sipped my espresso, wondering what Farrow was doing right now. Working? Practicing on the piste? Causing trouble with Dallas?
The fact that she lived across the street yet still managed to avoid me could be used as a CIA case study. Even as I channeled my inner Joe Goldberg. Working in front of the window. Fucking up all my calculations. Glancing up every ten seconds to see if she’d passed by.
Not my finest moment.
“Don’t be silly.” Mom flipped a page in the binder, stamping a tab onto the outer margin. “Eileen forwarded me her guest list.”
“Speaking of Eileen, I filed a missing persons case for her this morning.”
Well, tried to.
Apparently, one could not file a missing persons case for the sole reason that they responded to everyone but you.
Mom stared at me as if I’d joined the Moonies and wanted to fork over my net worth. “She’s busy working hard on creating the wedding of our dreams. It’s best not to bother her for the next few months.”
“I would love to not bother her for the next few lifetimes.”
“Oh.” Celeste Ayi dove forward, jabbing a finger at a name. “Let’s invite Xiao Bai to the tea ceremony. Maybe she’ll finally cough up the recipe for her dan dan noodles.”
“Don’t bother. You’ll get the ingredients but not the measurements.” Mom swatted her hand away, pausing at a name. “How about Olivia? She’s darling.”
“A darling bitch.” Ayi took a butter knife to the page, scratching her out of the Zhao family records. “So condescending just because she spoke better English than me. So what if I didn’t know slang when I first came? Fuck you was easy enough to learn.”
Shards of their conversation slashed through my consciousness. Something hot and violent stirred inside me.