Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 129986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Mom shakes her head. “Honey, I know you meant well, and I’m sure your friend did, too. This is very sweet, and I truly appreciate the effort, but we’ve already tried everything. We’ve been through all this, and I made the decision to stop for a reason. It wasn’t working, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life at doctor’s appointments.”
“I know, Mom, but what if—?”
“Honey.” She places her hand over mine, her eyes sad but resigned.
A lump forms in my throat. “I just don’t see how you can pass up—” I stop and try again. “We might not even have to go anywhere. I did ask Dare if he might be able to do a video call. The appointment could be for that and the card only says New York so we know it’s New York time.”
“Well, if it’s a call, I suppose it can’t hurt, but I’m not going to let you blow the money we need to live on sending me to some hopeless out-of-state meeting.”
I don’t argue with her because there’s not much time before school, and I don’t want to rile her up right before I leave, but I don’t want to believe it would be hopeless, either.
I guess that’s how I’ve felt every step of the way, though. Every time we heard about some new treatment we could try, I thought that would be the one.
And every time, it wasn’t.
It’s too depressing to think about, so I put it out of my mind. I don’t text Dare about it. I’ll just ask him about it at school.
___
It feels like a shitty day as I head down the halls of Baymont High, the books for my first couple of periods held snugly against my chest. I got here early so I could give Hannah her lunch bag back. I forgot all about the recipe, but even if I would’ve remembered, I’m sure I would still stare at her in open confusion as she held out a basket full of baking supplies.
“What is this?” I ask.
“Everything you need to make the muffins,” she says. Her smile dims a bit. “Well, not everything. I couldn’t put eggs or butter in the basket or it would have to be refrigerated, but everything else is there.”
“That is unbelievably generous. You didn’t have to do that.”
She shrugs. “No biggie. I have to get to my locker, but if you have any questions about the recipe, just shoot me a DM. I gave you overripe bananas on purpose, by the way. Those work better for things like banana bread or banana muffins.”
“Noted. Thanks again, Hannah.”
She flashes me a smile and then she’s off.
I don’t have enough time to go back to my locker and stash the basket before class, so I guess I’m just going to be toting this basket around with me for a while.
If I’d have known, I would have worn my hair in braided pigtails with a blue checkered dress and ruby red slippers, really gone for the Dorothy look.
I smile faintly, amused by how random I must look walking through the halls with a basket full of baking supplies. I’m just passing the bathrooms on my way to homeroom when Mallory steps in front of me.
A frown flickers across her face as she glances at my basket. “What is happening here?”
“On my way to Oz. I’m hoping to find Anae a heart. Might be beyond even the wizard’s capabilities, but I’ll report back,” I tell her.
Shooting me a dry, narrow-eyed look, she says, “That’s ironic coming from you.”
“Is it?” I frown. “I don’t think it’s ironic. Maybe you’re thinking of a different word.”
Taking a step back and gesturing dramatically to the entrance of the girl’s bathroom, she says, “Anae would like to speak with you.”
My eyebrows rise and I shoot Mallory a doubtful look. “In the bathroom?”
“For privacy,” she says primly.
“No thanks.”
I take a step forward, but she moves in front of me again. “Believe me, you’ll want to see this.”
There’s a smug confidence in her tone that gives me pause. I glance down the hall, tempted to brush it off and head to class, but it sounds like Anae is up to something. I guess I can spare a minute to pop in and see what she wants.
The queen bee is waiting in front of the sinks wearing a white silk button-down with a tweed skirt and pointy-toed mules. Her secondary minion flanks her while Mallory escorts me. Anae smirks when I walk in, tapping something on her phone screen and then gazing at me like the cat that got the cream.
“What do you want?” I ask her.
“To ruin your day,” she says with feigned sweetness. Her brow furrows a bit when she sees the basket I’m carrying, then she seems to recognize it, and she gasps softly. “That little tart. She was making that for you?”