Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 150968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
“So you wouldn’t mind if I just leave right now? Wouldn’t people talk?”
“No, you’ve done your part and that’s more than enough, Grayson.” She reaches up and straightens the collar of my shirt for me. “Anyway, people will always find a reason to talk. You can’t let that impair you.”
I swallow again. “Thank you.”
“Go,” she mouths, giving me the last push to do just that. “Make a run for it before someone else interrupts you.”
Fuck, I don’t wait for her to tell me again. I get the hell out of here and I don’t pause until I’m all the way outside, and the noise of the party is drowned out.
The air no longer feels stuffy.
My tie is no longer suffocating me.
I can finally breathe again.
***
I listen as the English teacher introduces us to The Things We Cannot Say by Kelly Rimmer, the novel we will be studying this year. A dual-narrative story, told from the perspective of war-torn Poland in 1942 and the present day. “The two timelines weave together to bond them as a family and allow the truth to finally be heard,” Mrs. Cortez explains. She moves to the next PowerPoint slide, giving us a brief schedule for the first month of the semester.
“The first week, we will be doing the novel study, and I’ll be putting you into groups for chapter discussion. You will have a group presentation in the second week and this will be your first marked assignment. And your first essay is due at the end of September. This is an AP class, the workload is rigorous, and if you feel like you’re falling behind, you need to let me know ASAP. Don’t wait until a day before your assignment is due to tell me that you’re struggling with the course work. I will not be giving any extensions, unless it’s absolutely necessary, and you need to tell me in advance. Have I made myself clear?”
There’s a chorus of ‘yes’ before the class falls silent again.
I’m only half-listening to Mrs. Cortez, as my eyes take in everyone in the classroom. It’s day one of the academic year and my first day at Berkshire Academy. I’m wearing the same navy blazer, white buttoned-up shirt, beige slacks and a tie as the other boys.
But I still somehow feel…out of place.
I spin my pen over my fingers, going back and forth between taking notes and listening to Mrs. Cortez as she goes on about the importance of literature in society. Before I know it, the bell rings, and then Oaklynn is already in my personal space. Fuck.
I stand up, putting my notebook into my backpack. “Let’s have lunch together,” she tells me, ever so cheerfully. “I’ll introduce you to a few people I know. Also, have you considered joining any sports team? I’d suggest the basketball team. They’d be dumb to refuse you, especially with your height and build.”
She grabs onto my arm, leaning in closer to me. I fight the urge to shake her off. Fuck, she’s been attached to me all morning. After Oaklynn compared our schedules earlier, she proudly announced that we share two classes together this semester.
Good for her. Frustrating for me.
Because now, she’s all over me and up in my personal space. She talks a lot and I don’t understand why the hell she is so touchy. Like a fucking parasite attached to its host. Shit.
“Why don’t you put your backpack in your locker?”
I grunt in response. “I’m fine.”
I gently ease my arm from her hold and walk ahead. Oaklynn easily keeps up with me. “Let’s take a look at the cafeteria menu for today.”
I stop by my locker and put in the code. “No, that’s fine. My aunt packed me lunch for today.” Taking out the lunchbox, I shove it into my backpack. The lunch is still fresh and the smell of chicken is strong. That’s why I left my lunchbox in the locker this morning, instead of carrying it with me in class.
Aunt Naveah woke up early this morning and made sure to prepare lunch for me before she left for work. A grilled chicken sandwich, with honey mustard and chipotle sauce, just how I like it. “It’s your first day at Berkshire. You deserve a homemade lunch,” she had said to me, all smiles before giving me a kiss on the cheek and then leaving.
I didn’t tell her that this was the first time anyone had packed me lunch. My mother never cared if Naomi and I went without food. I remember when I was ten years old and I had been on the brink of starvation. I had gone two days without any food. Sitting there in the school’s crampy and sweaty cafeteria, watching everyone else eat and enjoying their food. Talking and laughing with their friends while my stomach rumbled with hunger.