Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 178117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 891(@200wpm)___ 712(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 178117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 891(@200wpm)___ 712(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
“Well, sorta,” I muse. “If you can call it that.”
I slurp down my breakfast while also putting on some makeup to make myself look decent after last night’s onslaught.
“What’s his name?” Kayla asks as she throws herself down on her bed. “Or her.”
I do one last check of my room, but I can’t find the diary anywhere.
“Oh, uhh …” It’s so damn hard to lie. “F… Fred.”
Fuck. Where is it?
“Fred?” Kayla cringes. “Nah, you wouldn’t hang out with a white piece of bread like that.”
“Okay, fine. I don’t remember, okay?”
Where the fuck did I put that diary? I swear to God, I left it underneath my pillow as always.
She laughs. “So you kissed some dude while drunk? Nice.” She raises her brows and puts her hands underneath her chin. “Or was it more than just kissing? C’mon, I need all the deets.”
“It was literally a Halloween party,” I reply in a hurry.
I rummage through all my books, but the diary is nowhere to be found.
What if … someone broke into the room again and stole it?
Someone like Alistair King.
My blood begins to boil.
“Oooh, so they had masks.” Her face starts to glow.
“They tied me to a fucking tree,” I rebuke, annoyed the diary is missing again.
She eyes me down. “They?”
Oh, fuck me. There goes the nice lie.
Now I’m really blushing.
She sits up straight. “Wait, don’t tell me it’s those Skull & Serpent Society boys? F as in Felix?”
I check my phone.
Fuck. No more time.
“I gotta go,” I say, and I run for the door.
“Wait, you can’t just drop a bombshell on me like that and then leave!” Kayla says.
But I’m already out the door. I’ll explain later. I need to get out of here fast before I say things that will make her want to get involved. I’ve already endangered my own life. No need to endanger hers too.
I head straight for the coffee shop where I agreed to meet my parents down in Crescent Vale City, the one called Fi’s Cups and Cakes along the road that leads up the mountain to Spine Ridge.
Mom: Penelope, are you almost here? You’re late. And your dad’s getting antsy.
Penelope: Coming! Five minutes max.
Mom sends me a picture of Dad holding a cup of tea and a macaron, making me grin. It’s so out of character for him to pose like that, especially considering he’s more of a coffee person. But he’ll do anything for my mom.
I walk down the streets, completely out of breath by the time I finally reach the shop.
When I open the door, Mom turns in her seat. “There you are. I was wondering if you’d even make it.”
Panting, I approach them and give her a kiss. “Hi, Mom.”
“You look like you ran a marathon. Did you walk all the way here from the university?” she asks.
“No, of course not. Took a bus. But had to run from the stop,” I explain, and I kiss my dad on the cheeks too. “Sorry, I’m late. Had a rough night.”
“Up to no good?” He raises a brow.
I sit down on the only seat left. “You know me.”
My dad grins and takes a sip of his tea. “The tea is not strong enough.”
I snort. I can never tell whether he’s just trying to play it cool or means it for real.
“Server!” Dad calls, raising his hand. “Another cup, please. And add an espresso as well.”
“So how’s school?” Mom asks. “Tell us all about it.”
“It’s okay,” I reply. “I’m trying to catch up on everything I missed in the first month. But I’m hanging in there.”
“And what about friends?” she asks, taking a sip of her tea. “Meet anyone new? Interesting?” She pauses. “Someone to keep an eye on?”
I glance at Dad. “Well, I’ve made some friends but also some enemies.”
“Enemies?” Mom raises a brow. “Already?”
“You know how she is, Emilia,” Dad says, grabbing my hand. “Just like us.”
Mom laughs. “True.” And she takes another sip. “Well, just do your best. We’re proud of you, regardless. And if things don’t work out, you can always call it quits.”
“No,” I say. “Not a chance. I’m gonna see this through until the end.”
Dad squeezes my hand.
The server comes to bring us the drinks, interrupting our conversation. “There you go! The espresso was for you, sir, right?”
Dad nods at her. “The tea is for my daughter, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” the server says, and she walks off again.
I grab a macaron from the plate in front and stuff it in my mouth, the taste almost making me want to moan. Mom always knows how to find the best shops in town.
“Are you sure you’re all right at that university?” Mom asks.
I take a sip of the hot tea. Spicy, just the way I like it. “It’s okay. I can handle myself.”
“But you know what happened to your sister, and I know what kind of people go there, and I—”