Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
I walk into the living room, where she is.
This is my gran’s house. Well, my home, too. I live with her now.
Gran is sitting on her favorite armchair. She’s smoking a cigar. She doesn’t usually smoke them inside the house. Always out on the back porch. Things must be bad if she’s smoking indoors.
I slip my backpack off and set it on the floor by the sofa. I take a seat.
She finally looks at me. “Are you all right?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I nod. “Only my lip that got cut.”
“You cleaned it up?”
I nod again.
She takes a puff of her cigar. The smoke filters in the air. Wafting into my nostrils.
I love the smell.
“You can’t be fighting at school all the time, River.”
I shrug. “The kid was an asshole. He said I was a freak.” And that my mom was a cop killer and that she should rot in jail.
But she isn’t a cop killer. I am. It should be me in prison, not her. But she wouldn’t let me tell the truth.
She made me promise not to tell the truth about what had really happened that day in the kitchen. Not even to Grandma.
She said she’d failed me once. She wouldn’t fail me this time.
I don’t even know what she meant by that.
All I knew was, I didn’t want them to take my mama away. But I didn’t want to go to jail either. I was scared.
I’m still scared.
And angry. So damn angry all the time.
“Don’t use that word,” Gran tells me. “And you are not a freak.” She leans forward to put her cigar out on the ashtray that sits on the coffee table. “The principal’s threatening to expel you.”
I shrug.
Like I care. I’d be happy to be out of that place. I hate it.
The kids are all assholes. The few friends that I used to have suddenly forgot my name when my mom got arrested.
Even the teachers ignore me.
I spend recess and lunchtime alone. Mostly, I just sit in the library and read.
I’m alone. But it’s fine. Because I don’t need anyone.
“Good,” is my response to her words.
“River, your education is important. I know your grades are down after what happened, and that’s expected, but the fighting has to stop. When those kids are giving you a hard time, you have to ignore them.”
“Sure.” I laugh, but I’m not feeling very funny right now. “I’ll ignore them. So, when one of them punches me, I’m supposed to just walk away?”
“The boy today, did he hit you first?”
I kick the toe of my sneaker against the leg of the coffee table. “No.”
She sighs. “Then, you walk away. But, if he hits you first, then you beat that boy’s ass to the ground. You don’t hit first, River. You hit second, and you hit harder. And I will back you the whole way with your principal. But you hit first, I got no defense for you.”
I hide a smile. My gran can be kind of cool at times, but I don’t want her to know I think that.
“And when they bad-mouth Mama? What am I supposed to do then, say nothing?”
The skin around her mouth tightens. “River”—she sighs again—“you can’t stop what people say about your mama. And they’re going to talk about what she did.”
“They don’t know anything!” I’m getting annoyed. I start to kick the table leg with more force.
“No, maybe they don’t. They know what they hear in the news or from the gossip. But, as much as it pains me to say it, your mom is in prison because she killed someone.”
“River, what have you done?”
My fists clench at my sides. My nails dig into my skin. I feel the moment the skin breaks.
“She shouldn’t be in prison. And you won’t even let me go see her.”
“It’s not me, River. You know this. Your mom doesn’t want you to see her in that place.”
“But she shouldn’t be there!”
Another sigh. “I know you don’t want to hear this—and I wish to God she wasn’t there and that it hadn’t happened—but she murdered him, River, and she has to pay for her crime.”
“No, she didn’t!” I yell, jumping up. The words are out of my mouth before I even realize.
Gran slowly stands up. Her eyes are staring at my face. “River?”
My body is shaking. I feel like I’m going to combust. There are all these words and noises in my head.
I dig my nails into my skin harder. I feel blood trickle down my palms. It normally calms me. But it isn’t working this time.
“River …” she says my name firmer this time.
My eyes come to hers.
“What did you mean by that?”
“I-I …” I stammer. I haven’t stammered in so long. “I-I … can’t—”
“Talk to me,” she snaps, her voice so harsh that it brings me to attention.
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “It was me. I-I shot h-him.”