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 think I’m drunk,” I say and smile sweetly at my favorite person in the whole entire world.
“Good, then I can finally tell you,” he declares, handing me one of the last two beers from the box.
“Tell me what?”
“I’m dating Poppy.”
“WHAT?” I shriek and he winces. “As in Poppy-Rose?”
He nods with another grin, looking far too proud of himself. “But… it’s Poppy. My Poppy.”
I only just got her back after Mee-maw stopped me seeing her for four months. Four longest months of my life, though we stayed friends in school, outside of school she was hanging around with other people. It made me so jealous.
“You ain’t dating her.”
I pull a face. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know, but I’m just telling you what’s what. She’s mine now, more than yours, you gotta be cool with that.”
“Does Mee-maw know?”
He grits his teeth and pulls on my hair making me yelp. “If you ever ask me about Mee-maw again, I’m going to fart on your pillow.”
“I’ll get pink eye again.”
“Exactly.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Yep.” His perfect teeth glint in the setting sun. “Let’s stay out late, make them worry.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek and consider it, then I consider being grounded for the next month and promptly shake my head.
“Well, you’re gonna have to. If she smells that beer on you, you’ll be in trouble anyway. May as well enjoy your freedom for a while before she locks you in your room forever.”
He has a point.
“Fine. I’ll skip curfew.” I have never skipped curfew before. Ever.
With excitement glinting like an evil entity in his eyes, he grabs my hand and tugs me away from our abandoned crate. “Let’s go get more booze.”
“Why? I’m already drunk.”
“Nah, you’re not nearly drunk enough.”
We go to the lake, or what the cool kids call the patch. The last time I came here was the first time Mee-maw gave me a proper beating with her slipper. Though not because I was here, but because of the state of me when I made it home.
It’s heaving with teenagers making out, drinking beer, smoking cigarettes and weed. My brother pulls me along, keeping me close incase my tormenter is here, though hopefully he won’t be as he works at Faceless Mechanics now with his daddy and spends most of his free time there.
I wish I had a daddy that wanted to teach me things like that. A daddy who wanted to spend time with me and help me find my way in the world. Sometimes I feel so lost and weak, like the world doesn’t want me to progress.
My brother introduces me to his friends, some of them I have classes with but I don’t talk to them. Mee-maw says they aren’t church going people so I have to avoid them. They seem nice though. But then so does Mallick the black guy and she told me he was born a sin because of the color of his skin. He’s the only one in Kane’s group that has never been outright mean to me. He doesn’t even laugh when they do mean shit too. I don’t know how he can be born a sin, he doesn’t seem like a bad person.
I spy him across the small fire that is surrounded by a shallow moat, likely to stop it from accidentally starting a bush fire. Don’t they know that fire can jump?
Whatever. I’m not saying shit to anyone about that. I don’t want to look uncool.
Mallick spies me too and smiles, he raises his hand and waves and I wave back. It’s not the first time we’ve smiled at each other but this time it feels different.
“Don’t let Mee-maw catch you looking at the black kid,” Matthew whispers in jest. He’s not being racist; he’s just making fun of me and my fear of the only parent I’ve ever known.
I ignore him and blush when I catch Mallick’s eyes again. He’s really quite good looking and he’s always so polite. I don’t know why Mee-maw would think bad things about him. Does she even know him? How does the color of your skin define you as a person? If him being black makes him bad, then am I bad because of all the bad stuff other white people have done?
“He’s into you,” Poppy whispers in my ear, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.
She hugs me around the waist and rests her chin on my shoulder.
“You think?” I question and she nods, her cheek brushing against my ear. The thought that he might like me does send a certain thrill through me
“Yep.”
I lean back against her chest and inhale her cherry scent. She loves cherries, especially the body mist her mom always buys for her. Maybe I can convince my mom to buy me a signature scent. I want somebody to hug me and smell something like vanilla, or peaches. Something pretty and feminine, but soft.