Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 136296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
She nods, as if she’s putting together the pieces of last night’s puzzle. “He said he wanted to talk yesterday morning, and I wouldn’t make time for him, so he took it upon himself to show up again in the evening. I had hoped he would sign the papers, but that wasn’t on his agenda. I became frustrated, and so did he. He enjoys playing mind games, but I’m not concerned for my safety. My annoyance level is another story.”
“What kind of mind games?”
She picks up the crane and settles it in her palm. “He likes to twist words and actions. He’s very good at manipulating.”
“It doesn’t make me happy that he’s showing up at your house unannounced, then.”
“That makes two of us. If I felt unsafe, I would say something, but I’m more frustrated than anything else.”
“Okay.” I don’t know that I feel any less on edge than I did before I walked through the door, just for different reasons now. “I’m not big on playing games, Clover, so if I’m waiting on the end of the semester for no reason, just tell me.”
She’s quiet for a few seconds before she says softly, “I don’t play games either.”
“Okay.” I push out of the chair. “Not long now, and we can stop doing this dance.”
She smiles faintly, even as her throat bobs with a nervous swallow. “Good luck on your finals.”
I open the door and check to make sure the hall is empty before I leave her office. I guess we’ll see how it all plays out once my grade is handed in.
A few days later, I’m sitting at the kitchen table, reading over my final story for my creative writing class one last time and shoveling cereal into my mouth when Lavender walks in. I expect Kody to be two steps behind her, but he isn’t.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” I ask as she opens the cupboard and pushes up on her toes, trying to reach the Lucky Charms. I’ve intentionally pushed them back so they’re hard for her to get to.
I also put the stepstool on top of the fridge. Is it a dick move? Yup. But it’s entertaining to watch my pint-sized sister get irritated on occasion.
She glances over her shoulder and gives me a look. “You mean your best friend?”
“Who is now your boyfriend.” I shovel another spoonful of cereal into my face.
She turns around, crosses her arms, and gives me her unimpressed look. It’s the same one our mom gives when I dress up bananas in the costumes she makes and leave them around the house. Lavender doesn’t say anything. Just keeps staring.
“He is your boyfriend.”
“He’s been your best friend since you two could make spit bubbles.”
“He’s been in love with you since he understood the concept,” I fire back. I don’t know why I’m in super dick mode, other than I’m stressed.
“I thought you were okay with this.” She pokes at her cheek with her tongue. “You’re the one who invited him to live here when their kitchen blew up.”
“I am okay with it.”
She climbs onto the counter, nabs a box of cereal, a bowl and a spoon, and crosses to the table, dropping into the chair across from me. “You two need to spend more time together. Without me around.”
“We play hockey together every day.” I can feel my ears going red, though, because this is the same conversation I had with BJ, and Lavender picking up on it too means I’m the common denominator in the problems here.
“That’s not the same. The whole team is there. He says you’re hardly around anymore. And every time he tries to do something with you, you bail on him.”
I’m about to argue, but then I realize he has been making an effort. Like the other day when he asked if I wanted to have breakfast after our morning skate, and then I ended up blowing off our plans that afternoon. We were supposed to run drills in the backyard, but I wasn’t in the right headspace for it, and I couldn’t be honest about why. “It’s finals” is my lame excuse.
She pours cereal into her bowl and tops it with milk. “I get that maybe you two can’t talk about”—she makes sexual hand gestures—“or whatever anymore, because that would be really fucking weird, and we already have enough of that with Mom and Dad and the banana costumes and Gigi and her always giving me sex toys, but it doesn’t mean you can’t or shouldn’t hang out together.” She pokes around in her bowl of cereal, dunking marshmallows. “If you’re upset that we’re dating, say something to him about it. Deal with it. He and River have managed their issues, as much as they can anyway. Punch each other in the kidneys if you need to but avoiding him and me isn’t going to fix the damn problem. He misses you.” There’s a sadness in her eyes I don’t expect.