Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I walk through the halls, munching on my toast, looking for my sister. She’s nowhere to be found. I shoot a quick text to Bridget, who confirms she has a playdate. I didn’t even know she had friends. It’s been a crazy week. I wish it was as easy for me to make friends as it is for my little sister.
It looks like I have the place to myself. Rather than lock myself in my room again, I pull out my reading for English class and settle in on the sofa in the media room. It’s nice here, with the sunlight streaming through the big windows. Once I’m wrapped in a blanket, I can forget all the awkwardness from last night. I wonder if anybody got pictures of me after I was out of the pool before I put Theo’s shirt on. I’ll need to remember to return it.
I don’t know if I doze off or if the book’s so good it sucked me in, but I jump at the sound of the front door flying open.
“I said I don’t want to talk about it.” My body curls into a protective ball before I know what I’m doing as Hayes comes into view. He storms past the stairs, muttering to himself.
I barely have time to process this before Mr. Ambrose marches in. “You heard what I said. Get your ass in my study. We’re going to talk about this.”
My heart sinks when Mom follows him into the house. She doesn’t notice me—none of them did. They’re all too busy dealing with whatever latest drama is going on.
It’s only been a week since we got here, but I’ve never heard Mr. Ambrose sound like this.
“I’m serious,” he barks, his voice echoing down the hall. “Get your ass in there. We’re getting to the bottom of this.”
“I fucking heard you. I’m getting something to drink. Or am I not allowed to do that anymore?”
I can’t help myself. Curiosity is killing me. I get up from the couch and creep out to the hall and past the stairs. Hayes bursts out of the kitchen, but he doesn’t see me since he turns in the direction of his father’s study.
“I don’t know who gave you the idea you get to talk to me that way, but I’m sick of it,” Mr. Ambrose says. “What the hell is going on with you lately?”
I hope he gets an answer because I would like to know, too. I get as close to the study as I dare, stopping at the doorframe so nobody can see me.
“It’s not even that big of a deal,” Hayes says. “You’re acting like I killed somebody.”
“I’d say fighting in the middle of a swim meet is a pretty big deal, Hayes, and you know it.”
“It wasn’t even a fight.”
“Really? Because that’s not how your coach made it sound when he described it to me.”
Mom pipes up. “He said you pushed your friend.”
“We were just screwing around.”
“In the middle of a meet?” Mr. Ambrose asks. “That’s a lie, and you know it. He said you were already taunting members of the other team. Franky tried to stop you once it went too far, and you turned on him.”
I cover my mouth to stifle a gasp. Franky? Why would he fight with Franky? They’re supposed to be best friends. Did I miss something last night after I left? Dammit, I wish Salem would talk to me. I’m totally lost here.
“He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.”
“Again with the language! Speak to me that way one more time, and you can forget having any privileges while I’m away.”
“What are you going to do? Install cameras in every room to watch me?”
“Try me, son,” Mr. Ambrose growls. “Though what I have in mind is more like hiring somebody to sit outside your goddamn bedroom door to make sure you don’t leave the room unless you’re going to or from school. Got it?”
“Right. Like you would do that.”
“I said it before, and I’ll say it again. Where is this coming from? This isn’t the kind of thing we do, Hayes. Being aggressive. Being a bully. You’re the captain of the goddamn team. This isn’t the behavior of a leader.”
“Now you sound like him.”
“Your coach? Because we both know what we’re talking about. A leader doesn’t taunt the other team, and he sure as hell doesn’t start a fight with someone on his own team. I thought you and Franky were better than that.”
“Because we weren’t fighting. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
“So your coach was lying?” Mom asks.
“Does she have to be in here? This doesn’t have anything to do with her.” I can’t help but smile a little because she needs to hear that. She’s not even his stepmother yet, but of course she has to make it seem like she’s an authority figure.