Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
I see people look my way, a kid points at my car. It’s flashy, it was ridiculously expensive, and it wasn’t made for these dusty-ass roads. It’s going to need a clean before I make it to the end of the street and I only got it cleaned on my way into town this morning. An excuse to delay the inevitable.
My phone starts to ring, it’s Webber. I don’t answer. I don’t want to talk right now; it’s better he thinks I’m already there even though I’m not.
I’m late.
I’m never late but I almost didn’t come despite the fact I have to. I can’t not be here. I need to be here.
I need to say goodbye.
The parking lot is full of vehicles, cars packed side by side on a gravel surface. An ominous shadow from the church and its steeple point to the only remaining space. I don’t use it. I park on the grassy verge beside the church, getting as close to it as possible. I’ll likely get a ticket if the town’s only traffic warden isn’t inside saying his goodbyes.
I climb out of my car, pointed heels crunching on the uneven cobblestones that lead up to the church doors which are closed. Looks like I’ll have to make an entrance.
9 years old
Kane joined our school six months ago and even though all he does is cause trouble; nobody is kicking him out. Grandpa said it’s because his daddy gots ties with the district and Kane gets a free pass. I don’t know what that means exactly but I don’t think it’s a good thing.
He’s the worst boy I have ever had the displeasure to meet in my entire life. Displeasure is a new word I learned right before Kane stuck a pencil down the back of my dress last period. He’s always doing stuff like that.
He pushed me over last week during recess too. I hurt my butt and grazed the palms of my hands. He thought it was funny that my new dress was ripped.
“Show me your panties,” he said when I dusted myself off. Why anybody would want to see my yellow and pink polka dot panties is so weird. And also gross. Mee-maw always said never show nobody your privates, especially not boys or men. She said boys gots the devil inside of them and a girl’s privates makes that devil hungry.
I don’t know why he does these things to me; I don’t know what I ever did to him to make him so cruel. He always does it to my brother too but only when he’s with me, so now even Matthew doesn’t speak to me in school.
“You’re so ugly you make my eyes want to roll to a different planet,” he hisses in my ear after yanking my braid and pulling my head back so hard I almost tip backwards.
I don’t respond, I just scowl at my desk, wishing I was strong enough to hurt him back, to pull his stupid hair and say mean things. Mee-maw says if I ignore him, he’ll stop, but it has been six months of ignoring him and he hasn’t stopped. He never stops.
“Are you okay?” my closest friend, Poppy-Rose who I’ve known since kindergarten asks on a whisper when I snap a pencil with both of my hands.
“No.”
“He’s only doing it because he likes you,” she says, repeating what my mee-maw told me when I asked her why he’s so mean.
“Then he needs to unlike me,” I huff, screwing my work into a ball and scowling at it.
It’s a stupid thought that displeases me because if he likes me why does he hurt me and my brother? And everyone else too, but he seems to really love hurting me, and the teachers never do anything about it.
The last time I tattled on him he threw my backpack into the school swimming pool and pushed my brother in after it. Luckily my brother can swim, Grandpa taught him last summer. I had to learn to crochet with Mee-maw and I absolutely hated it. I wanted to learn to swim, it’s so unfair.
“Are you going to tell Mr. Beecham?” Poppy whispers, leaning in as close as she can.
I shake my head and turn to a clean page.
“You can’t let him do that though.”
“I know,” I growl and shift away. “Leave me alone.”
26 years old
The door isn’t locked when I give it a hard shove while smiling at the upside-down cross still etched into its surface, a reminder of the days I thought I was something tough and fierce. I was nothing but a poser, throwing my weight around everywhere it didn’t matter. Something I paid for dearly.
The door groans as it opens into the lobby where three glass double doors line each of the surrounding walls.
I see people look through the glass from their seats, their bodies twisting as they try their darndest to figure out who is here.