Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“So…”
“Yeah,” he very quietly replies. No need to spell it out. A heavy, meaningful silence falls between us. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry…” he says a few minutes later.
I say nothing in return––what is there to say. It’s not like I’m ready to forgive and forget and pretend he didn’t hurt and embarrass me. It’s worth noting that I’m feeling mighty uncomfortable, however. My heart’s beating rapidly too.
“I wasn’t making fun of you––” His low raspy voice compels me to look at him. “––or anything like that…I can’t even explain why I kept it as long as I did...I’m sorry I can’t explain why, but it wasn’t to purposely hurt you.” He exhales tiredly. “I’m just…really sorry.”
Larsen walks in and the room gets quiet. That’s when Dallas’s voice gets even quieter. “I’m not an empty vessel.”
He turns to meet my scrutiny head on, and it occurs to me––beautiful, wealthy, gifted Dallas Van Zant is insecure.
“I’m not,” he repeats in case I didn’t believe him the first time.
I’m not sure either way yet, but I’m curious to know more. “G-Give me your email so I-I can send you the notes.”
Dallas
We beat Long Beach State tonight. A lucky goal by Rea in the last minute of the fourth quarter saved the season. It wasn’t looking so good for the Sharks until then. No matter how ugly the win, however, we beat them in the opening round and advance to the semifinals of the NCAA championship tournament next weekend.
I watched from the bench, of course. Even if I hadn’t dislocated my shoulder, Coach would’ve sat me for the arrest. He wasn’t a total douche about it either. He said he was sorry to see my playing days end this way. Somehow it seems fitting, though. It feels like it’s all coming to a head––my life, that is. I just can’t see how it’s going to break when it does.
“Rook!” Warner slurs at Jake Chasen, the rookie who replaced me. The freshman had three assists and one goal. “Get your sloppy face off that poor girl and get us refills.”
Warner’s halfway to passing out on the outdoor couch around the pool. We’re all congregated there in various stages of drunkenness. Next to him, Cole and Rea are off to a good start on their campaign to get wasted.
We started partying as soon as we got home. All of us for different reasons. Rea has lady trouble as usual. Cole is being Cole, which means there’s always a reason to party. As for me, the night in jail didn’t even begin to put a dent in the low-simmering anger I’m carrying around.
My mother has always been a problem. Never knowing what each day will bring is tough on an adult, let alone a kid. Some weeks she would stay in bed crying. Other times she would wake me in the middle of the night to take the sailboat out for a 3 a.m. cruise in rough waters. I was five the first time it happened. That we survived every single time is nothing short of a miracle.
The thing is, I always thought she had a good heart. Was she irresponsible? Sure. Spoiled? Extremely. She’s always been more like a sibling than a parent. But I never thought she was manipulative like my old man.
Bill Van Zant was and is interested in one thing and one thing only: furthering his own success at the cost of everyone else’s. It’s an open secret that he married my mother for her last name and her money. As soon as they had me, he left. He said he couldn’t handle her crazy, which is probably for the best because I can’t handle his either. I’ve always expected the worst out of him and he’s never disappointed me on that front.
But Brenda…fucking Brenda. She betrayed me worst of all.
Never once have I thought she would use me. After all the times I covered for her when my father tried to get the courts to adjudicate her as an unfit parent…this is what I get as a thanks.
“Chase, ya hear me!” Warner hollers.
The rookie is on my couch macking on a girl I’ve seen around campus, an upperclassmen. He pauses long enough to scrub the lust from his eyes and glance at Warner.
“Reaally? But I won the game for us tonight,” Chasen complains.
“Get the fuck outta here, rook. Help us win the championship. Then we’ll consider taking it easy on you.”
“Yeah, do that and we’ll consider making Fletcher our bitch,” Cole adds.
“Heeeyyy,” Fletch whines.
“In the meantime,” Cole continues, “get our refills.” He and Warner laugh.
Across the way, I catch Reagan eyeballing me. Something is going on with him––more than the usual.
Getting up, I plant my ass between him and Cole who’s listing to the side, and according to the sloppy look on his face, close to passing out.