Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“The hell you say,” he argued, straightening up.
Bird yelled something intelligible as he swung the squirt gun and fell to his knees, shooting water at the grass.
“She puts bacon and mushrooms and—”
“Mushrooms are fuckin’ nasty,” Rumi cut me off. “Gross.”
I shrugged. “Nana said most kids think mushrooms are gross until they’re adults and realize how fantastic they are.” I let the comment simmer for a moment. “Maybe you’re just not old enough yet.”
Instead of getting mad, Rumi laughed. “I’m thirteen.”
“Me too.”
“When’s your birthday?”
“May,” I shot back, raising my eyebrows. “When’s yours?”
“June,” he replied, throwing his hands in the air as he fell back in the grass. “Fine, you’re older. Barely.”
“Barely still counts,” I said primly.
Rumi smiled at me again, and for some reason, this time it made my belly swoop like I was on a roller coaster.
“Rum,” another boy called, stomping toward us in the grass. “What the heck?”
“Found someone cooler to hang with,” Rumi joked. “This is Nova.”
“How’s it goin’? I remember you. You’re Samson’s granddaughter, right?” the older boy said, jerking his chin up. “I’m Michael.”
“You can call him Micky,” Rumi said, rolling his eyes.
“Hey,” I muttered. I remembered him. When we were little, he’d shot me in the face with a Nerf gun and I’d had a welt on my cheek for an entire day.
“I’m the idiot’s brother,” Micky said, glancing over his shoulder. “That your brother?”
I looked over to where Bird was lying on his back in the grass, shooting water into the air so that it would fall back down on him.
“That’s Bird.”
“Firebird,” Rumi corrected.
Micky’s eyebrows pulled together as he looked between us. “Your parents must be into cars.”
Rumi snorted. “Could be worse,” he said, elbowing me in the side like we were sharing an inside joke. “They coulda named him Trans Am.”
Micky chuckled and looked between me and Rumi. “You gonna come back?”
“Nah,” Rumi said, leaning back on his elbows again. “I’m gonna hang with Nova for a while.”
“Suit yourself.” Micky turned slightly and pulled a water pistol from the back of his shorts, shooting Rumi with a stream of water before either of us had a chance to duck. “I win.”
“You fuckin’ cheated,” Rumi yelled as Micky jogged back across the yard, flipping him off over his shoulder. “Asshole!”
I glanced nervously over my own shoulder, watching for any adults that could hear him swearing. When I looked back, he’d pulled off his shirt.
I’d seen plenty of boys without their shirts. It was summer. It was hot. They walked around town and the river and playgrounds topless all the time. My cheeks reddened anyway.
“Won’t you get in trouble if someone hears you?” I asked, averting my eyes.
“Probably,” he grumbled. His lips tipped up at the corners. “But who the fuck cares?”
My belly did that swooping thing again.
“Rumi, you out here corruptin’ my granddaughter?” Pop called out jokingly as he and Nana came out of the building. He was carrying a mesh bag of laundry over his shoulder that he tossed in the back seat of the car on his way over.
“No, sir,” Rumi called back, straightening. “Just keepin’ her company.”
Mortification slid through my veins like acid as Rumi got to his feet.
“I swear,” Nana said, reaching out to give his ponytail a tug. “You’re even more tan than the last time I saw you. Spend some time inside, for goodness’ sake.”
“No way,” Rumi said, smiling at her. “I’m soakin’ up the sun for as long as I can.”
“Sunscreen is your friend,” Nana joked.
“You ready?” Pop asked me as he threw his arm over Nana’s shoulder. “Gonna follow you home and get the truck. Nana’ll meet us at the river when she’s done with the laundry.”
“Yes!” Bird yelled as he came running toward us. “Swimming!” The squirt gun nearly hit me in the face as I got to my feet.
“It was nice to meet you,” I mumbled to Rumi as I shuffled toward my grandparents. “Give his squirt gun back, Bird.”
With a loud dejected sigh, Bird held it out toward Rumi.
“Nah.” Rumi shook his head. “You keep it.”
“Really?” Bird asked dubiously.
“You don’t have to give it to him, sweetheart,” Nana said easily. “He’s got plenty at home.”
“Not like this one,” Bird argued, cradling the squirt gun to his chest.
“It’s fine,” Rumi said with a laugh. “I’ve got more, too.”
“Say thank you,” I hissed, poking Bird in the back.
“Thank you!” Bird yelled.
“No problem, little dude. See you guys later.”
Disappointed that we were leaving, I only glanced at him once as we made our way back to the car. He’d slung his T-shirt over his shoulder, and the muscles in his back flexed as he strode toward the building. Pop chuckled, and I quickly looked away.
“He’s Tommy and Heather’s son,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “You remember them?”
“No.”
“Good kids,” he said easily. “You want me to see if we can get together—”