Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 137572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 688(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 459(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 688(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 459(@300wpm)
My non-crying only lasts two and a half minutes before there is a noise, and then my shed door creaks open. I lift my head up to find a head poking inside. “Toby …?”
I sit up. “Lee?”
“I didn’t know you were, uh …” My stepbrother comes in and shuts the door. “Didn’t know you were coming back tonight.”
“Me neither. Wasn’t planned. I’ve had my fill of the world out there, I guess.” I lift a tired eyebrow. “Is dad still gonna kill me?”
“No. He’s been weird since Thanksgiving. Emotional and … I dunno. Not himself. Heh. It’s just weird.” Lee invites himself to my desk chair with a grunt, then looks at me. “Where’d you go these past few days? Were you staying with that weird girl?”
I chuckle. “Her name’s Kelsey, and no, I didn’t go to her. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you where I’ve been.”
“Huh. Vann’s? Did you go to Vann’s?”
I deflate a little at the mention of his name. “No. I … I don’t think we’re gonna … get back …” I sigh, then shake my head.
“I had a bad girlfriend my sophomore year. We were good at first, but then she got in my head, and I couldn’t figure out what I wanted ‘til I ended things with her.” He picks at his fingernails. “I dunno if Vann’s like that, but … maybe it’s good you ended it.”
“Maybe.” I bite my lip. “He said the ball’s in my court.”
“Huh. Alright. Oh, by the way, all Thanksgiving break while you were gone, Marly and Dad were having heated discussions late into the night, like, every night, and it was super annoying, so … I kinda came and slept in here a couple times.”
I roll my eyes. “Jeez, Lee. Are you making a habit out of taking over my old bedrooms whenever I leave them for five seconds?”
“No,” he snaps defensively. When he realizes I was kidding, he clears his throat and softens his tone. “I mean, nah. I just … it’s … Maybe I needed to get away, too. It’s been a weird week.”
“It has. And it’s fine,” I add. “I don’t mind you slept in here.”
Lee nods slowly, lip hanging open. “And, uh … also heads-up, Dad mighta gotten fired. Some disagreement with his boss.”
“Oh.” I experience a genuine pang of sympathy for Carl. It’s quickly wiped away when I remember our fight.
“So you think Biggie’s has any job openings?” asks Lee.
I stare at him in disbelief—until I realize he’s joking. Then the both of us share a laugh, likely trying to picture Carl in a Biggie’s apron. “Thanks for coming to see me,” I tell him. “I needed this.”
“Me too,” he admits, kicking back at my desk. After we chat for another half hour, Lee dozes off in my chair—being capable of sleeping in literally any position at all, mouth hanging open—and I’m not long to follow, drifting to sleep with my phone clutched to my chest, feeling oddly grateful for my stepbrother’s company.
20 | VANN
There’s a knock at my door immediately followed by my dad poking his head in. “Morning, son! You dressed?”
I peer at him over my shoulder from the desk chair. “I could have been masturbating in here, y’know.”
He chortles. “Now, now …”
“I’m serious. You just came right in after one knock, and I—”
“Well, thank God you weren’t. And speaking of God in all His glory, you’re coming with us. So get dressed.”
I frown at him. “To where?”
“Church.”
He doesn’t hear a word of my protest, because not a second after his announcement, he’s off. I smirk down at my latest demon sketch, which literally looks like a nightmare pulled out of a sweet and innocent reverend’s mind, and decide to outright ignore my father’s wish for me to join them.
Until I consider the crappy Thanksgiving break I’ve had. And the fact that a certain someone’s absence is the very reason I’ve been wallowing in such crappiness.
And that certain someone might attend church this morning, too.
It’s that final thought that gets my ass out of the desk chair. In a few minutes, I’m wearing a sharp black dress shirt and slacks, and my hair has just gotten its first parted combing in years. Even the strands in the back cry out “What are you doing to us?!” as they spike in every direction, disobeying my comb and looking as if a demented cow more than just licked there. It’s the best I can do.
“I’m proud of you,” my mother tells me from the passenger’s seat in front of me as we head down Apricot Street. “I think this will be really good for you. You do know the reverend is—?”
“—a big homo,” I finish for her, rolling my eyes. “Yes. Heard it a hundred times since our first day here. Married to an Army vet. Every gay dude here is beautiful and handsome and meets the love of their life in this oddly progressive small town. Got it.”