Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 107673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
I went for the banister outside my bedroom door and yelled downstairs. “Wrong room, Mom. Push button number nine, not eight.”
“You know your mother doesn’t like for you to holler downstairs,” Amelia hissed. She wasn’t correcting me as much as trying to stave off my mother’s frustration. “Tell her on the intercom.”
My head shook at the absurdity of the situation as I came back inside the room. “She doesn’t remember to lift her finger off the talk button. She can’t hear me if I use the intercom.”
“Dasham-darling, we’ve scheduled your birthday party for September third at the club. We’ll be home from Sea Springs by then. I believe school starts the Monday after. They’ll keep the swimming pool open for us. How does that sound?”
I stared at the box on the wall. My mouth opened, but no words came. I dropped my hands to my sides, my chin hitting my chest. Noo. She’d plan a huge affair, pretending it was perfectly normal to have a birthday party months after my actual birthday.
What did I say? I expected very little in terms of a celebration since my parents had only remembered my birthday a couple of days ago. And that only happened while sitting together at breakfast when I brought up the new car I wanted.
“Did you hear me?” my mom asked again. “I’ve scheduled a birthday party for you in the beginning of September. I have the club’s party planner sending save the dates this week. She’ll keep us updated on the plans while we’re away. Would you like to look over the list of invitees?”
No, I did not want to see the list. Only members who paid an exclusive fee were allowed on the property. My friends without a membership wouldn’t be able to attend.
I lifted my finger to the button and pressed. “No, I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Dasham, are you teasing me in some way that you think is funny and I don’t understand?”
I cocked my head toward Amelia and whispered, “See? I guarantee her finger’s pressing the talk button. She can’t hear me.”
There were five decent sized steps from where I stood to the banister. I made it in four. My frustration with everything—my birthday, our summer plans, my clothing options—got the best of me. “Mom! Take your finger off the talk button.”
“All right, son,” she said through the speaker.
I took a deep breath and centered myself as I went back to the intercom and lifted my finger to the button again. I felt like a loser for not standing up for myself, but the argument didn’t matter. She wasn’t a nurturing kind of mother. Especially since I was a late-late-in-life baby. “I’m sure whatever you decide is fine. We don’t even need to have a party.”
“Oh no, of course we do. Especially since your father’s under such scrutiny. We need to have our best foot forward for the foreseeable future. Did you see the new swim trunks I had Amelia put on your bed?”
Honestly, I had no idea if I had seen them or not and twisted around toward my bed. Two large open suitcases took up the majority of the space on my mattress. Two cases seemed ambitious with as picky as I was about how I looked. Outside of those, assorted clothing littered the rest of the space.
Amelia quickly shifted through the mess to lift a pair of solid baby blue swim trunks. I scrunched my nose. They were certain to be expensive, but not my taste in swimwear.
“I do see them,” I said.
“Good. I also had Amelia pack a white T-shirt. We’re doing a family photo at the entrance of the pool. We’re all wearing some variation of matching blue swimsuits and coordinating wraps.”
Omigod. That sounded truly dreadful. My brows wrinkled in distaste as I glanced over at Amelia, who shrugged. “We’re taking a family picture at the resort, in swimsuits? All of us?”
“I feel like you're attempting to tease me again, and I don’t understand, and I don’t have time to try to make sense of your humor. You’re getting too old for this silliness. Our itinerary for tomorrow is to be ready to leave at nine a.m. sharp. The plane’s scheduled to take off around ten. Don’t dawdle, Dasham,” she said firmly. “Have Amelia put your luggage by your door tonight. I’ll have someone gather it to take to the plane in the morning.”
My finger pressed the button. “Is there any way I can come home before my birthday? Celebrate here with a few of my friends. Chandler’s coming home,” I added as an incentive. My parents loved both Chandler and his parents. They thought he was a great role model, as if. “I can stay here with Amelia. It won’t be the first time.”
I released my hold to cross my fingers for good luck.