Total pages in book: 238
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
I never fit with him. I always knew it, because Thunder Bay was Neverland and the Horsemen his tribe, and I hated to play. I didn’t do fun.
And leaving town hadn’t cured me of that.
I drifted into the ballroom, seeing the chandelier hanging high above, its lights illuminated and casting a soft glow over the floor. They’d cleaned up the glass, turned on the breaker again, and I kicked off my shoes, turning around in the big, open space with my head tipped back.
That was why I loved building and designing things. Making someone’s world theirs. It was a chance to fly, and all I needed was a dumb, happy thought.
And I’d had one. Just one that I hung on to all this time.
Spotting a record player near the fireplace, I walked over and dug inside the chest underneath it, seeing a few dozen records stacked together.
There was everything from Mozart to Bennie Goodman to the Eagles, but nothing from this century. It had probably been that long since this place had been inhabited by a family.
I picked one out and slipped it onto the turntable, deciding to embrace everything I hated, including this dumbass song. The stylus hit the record as it spun, and “If You Wanna Be Happy” by Jimmy Soul started playing, and I immediately smiled, remembering my mom and dad dancing to this in the kitchen when I was about seven or eight.
My body moved, and I bobbed my shoulders, hopping around as I sang along. I spun around the room, the music filling the air around me, and for a few precious moments, the guilt and everything faded away.
Fuck him for thinking I was supposed to have everything figured out at sixteen. Fuck him for demanding of me what I couldn’t even give myself. He and Aydin and Martin were all dictators, and I never heard my own voice.
Ever.
And it was my fault. I should’ve said it louder. I should’ve screamed. I hated that I had to, but it was my fault I fell quiet.
I wasn’t a grown-up. He was wrong. I never grew. I was always this pile of dead leaves, blowing in the wind and letting the seasons, whoever they were, come in and change me and walk on me, and I never fought for anything.
I spun and spun, the tears streaming down my face until someone swept me into his arms, and I opened my eyes to see Micah spinning me around as I wrapped my legs around his waist.
He planted his forehead to mine, smiling gently as I started laughing, the saxophone vibrating throughout the room.
“If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life,” we sang, “never make a pretty woman your wife…”
And he spun and spun, and I started laughing so hard as I hugged him to me, catching sight of everyone else by the door watching us.
They must’ve heard the music, too.
God, I didn’t care. I punched my fist in the air, both of us shouting the lyrics like complete idiots. No one was going to tell me how to feel. Not anymore.
No one could make me feel anything I didn’t allow. I was in control.
And I was ready for an adventure.
Emory
Nine Years Ago
My brother stopped in front of the school, pulling off to the curb and putting the car in Park.
I hadn’t slept a wink last night, and while there was a cloud fogging my brain, so nothing was really clear yet, I didn’t feel tired.
More like my head was floating six feet above my body, detached and delayed.
“You look really pretty today,” Martin said.
I tried to smile. “Thanks.”
My skirt and shirt were ironed, my hair was combed and fixed with a headband, my tie tightened, and for once, I wore the expensive navy blue blazer he bought me last year that still fit.
“I hope I find you at home when I get off work.”
I nodded. “I’m sorry about everything,” I said in a low voice.
I felt his eyes on me, but he remained silent for a while.
Then, his soft voice filled the car. “We have to get along, Emmy. I’m all you have.” Then he ruffled my hair, laughing. “I mean, I’m nice, right? I buy you stuff and let you have freedom. I got you into this school because I want you to have the best. I try, right?”
I nodded again.
“I’ll make some of that homemade caramel corn you like tonight, too,” I said.
He groaned, smiling. “Sounds like a plan.”
I climbed out of the car, taking my bag with me and waving goodbye before heading through the parking lot.
It wasn’t often we patched things up with so little effort, but after I got home last night, I didn’t even try to sleep. I showered again, washing my hair and scrubbing and shaving like a new me would be some kind of armor.