Total pages in book: 174
Estimated words: 173355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 693(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 693(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
That’s why I think his jaw is all tight and clenched as he watches me with intense eyes.
And maybe that’s why he takes a step back from me.
From my crazily breathing and shivering body. My body that’s buzzing with curiosity. With his words that he just said. With panic that I’m never going to see him again.
That he’s going to leave any second and I know I won’t forget him.
Even though I know nothing about him.
Not one thing.
And he does do that. He does leave.
Only before turning around and leaving into the night, he says, in that same deep rough voice of his, “Good luck, Bronwyn.”
Dreams and choices.
These are the two things I never think about.
Because I don’t have them.
And so it doesn’t make sense to waste my time longing for the things that I no longer have. Things that are meaningless. Things that only drag me down and make me angry.
Make me feel hollow and heavy at the same time.
But tonight is different.
Tonight is the night I can’t keep my useless thoughts at bay. Tonight I can’t help but feel angry.
Furious.
Left behind.
Like a fucking child on a playground.
I can’t help but feel that the world moves on while I stand here, unmoving.
Still.
Why were you so still?
Her voice echoes in my brain as I walk away from her after dropping her off at her mansion. And even though I’ve been trying really fucking hard tonight to shut down my foolish thoughts, I can’t help but answer her in my head.
I looked still probably because I was.
Probably because that’s what my life is: still. And because I’d just witnessed someone move on.
Her.
I was so still at that party tonight because I watched my dream walk down the aisle in a white dress with a man who wasn’t me.
Who would never be me.
There’s a girl I’m staring at.
She has messy black hair, thick bangs hanging in her eyes. And she’s glaring at me.
Possibly because I just woke her up from sleep.
By throwing a glass of water in her face.
In my defense, I tried everything before this. I tried waking her up gently, talking to her, reasoning with her. But you can’t really reason if a person is snoring in their pillow. So I had to get creative.
“Hey,” I greet her, putting the glass back down on the nightstand by her bed. “Good morning.”
“I’m going to kill you,” she seethes, pushing her wet black hair off her face. “I swear to God, Bronwyn. I will end you.”
“No, you won’t, Poe Austen Blyton. Because you love me,” I tell her, smiling because she does that when she’s trying to annoy me, use my full name. So I use her full name, complete with her middle name, back. “Now, time to get ready. We’re going to be late for class.”
She flops down on her bed again. “Ugh. Stop using my full name. And don’t try to be nice to me right now. I’m mad at you.”
“You’re not allowed to be mad at me. I’m trying to save your ass.”
Her only response is throwing both arms on her face and growling.
I sigh. “Poe, you can’t be late to any more classes, okay? School’s only been open for like a couple of months and you’ve lost almost all your privileges. You can’t afford to lose any more.”
“I don’t care. I hate this place,” she declares from behind her arms. “Let them take all my privileges away. I’ll start a revolution, you’ll see. I’ll burn down this whole school, trust me.”
I do.
I do trust her.
If anyone can start a revolution and destroy this place, it’s Poe. One of my very best friends and the resident troublemaker of this place.
By this place, I mean St. Mary’s School for Troubled Teenagers.
“Well, I have complete faith in you. You will start a revolution, Poe. One day. But before that happens, you still need to go to class. Besides, do you remember what day it is?”
That gets her attention.
She lowers her arms from her face and blinks up at me. “What?”
“It’s Monday after Thanksgiving.”
It takes her a second to make sense of what I’m telling her and when she catches on, it happens. And I realize that I should’ve probably led with that. I’m an idiot.
Poe jerks up to a sitting position, finally looking alert. “Oh my God, it is.”
“Yup.”
“So today’s the day.”
“Today’s the day, yes,” I agree.
Then she jumps off the bed and starts scrambling. “Oh my fucking God, Wyn. I need to prepare. I need to get extra ready. Why didn’t you wake me up sooner? You know I haven’t seen him in months. Months, Wyn. I need to look my best. I need…”
And I know my job is done. She’s awake and I know she’s going to get ready on time. So I leave Poe to her devices and tackle my next project: waking up my second best friend, Salem Salinger.