Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
My phone buzzes and I grit my teeth. “What do you want me to do, Aunt Becky?”
“Here,” she blurts out. “Talk to her.”
“Hello?”
“What?” Rylie snaps. Her tone is angry, but I hear the underlying sadness in her word.
“What the fuck is going on, Rylie?”
“Aunt Becky is crazy,” she hisses. “She thinks just because she’s rich and I have to live with her she can control me. I don’t want her money!” She screams the last sentence.
Aunt Becky screams something back.
“Calm the fuck down,” I bite out. “She’s doing her best.”
“Whatever, Hudson. Go do your thing. Bye.”
She hangs up on me and I pinch the bridge of my nose. Class time comes and goes as I sit in the parking lot of Jada’s apartments. I pull up the song Rylie sent. “Stuck in the Middle with You” by Stealers Wheel. As soon as I hear the folksy tune, it does remind me of Dad.
Amy: I missed my period.
Goddammit.
Leaning forward, I rest my head on the steering wheel. I can’t deal with this shit right now. I can’t fucking deal. Ignoring my girlfriend and everything that text implies, I turn up the music and think back to days when Dad would pluck away on his acoustic guitar and try to sing songs he had no business singing.
I miss him.
I miss them both.
Fuck.
Rylie
“Come on,” Aunt Becky snaps as she parks in front of the drugstore. “I’m not leaving you out here alone.”
She probably thinks I’ll steal her precious Lexus. Rolling my eyes, I climb out of the car and follow her into the building. We’re going to be late for school this morning, but when are we ever on time? The school must be tired of me too because they keep writing off my tardies and absences as “still coping with parents’ death.”
There is no coping.
Just the death.
It’s a constant thought in my mind. Each morning when I open my eyes, every night when I fall asleep, and every moment in between. They’re gone.
Aunt Becky leaves me to go to the pharmacy. I browse up and down the aisles. Maybe I’ll steal something just to piss her off. I’m smirking when I run into another girl. She drops a pregnancy test at my feet.
I bend down to pick it up, but before I can look at her, she speaks.
“Hi, Rylie,” she clips out.
Snapping my head up, I stare at Amy’s red-rimmed eyes. “What’s this?” I demand as I wave the box in front of her.
She plucks it from my grip and nervously looks over her shoulder. “None of your business.”
“Are you pregnant?” I demand, my voice shrill.
“I missed my period,” she snaps. “I don’t know.”
All I can think about is Hudson. Mom’s wish for him to finish college and worry about Amy later. She’s sure on the fast track of reeling him back home. And as much as I’d love to have my brother closer, especially now, it pisses me off.
“You can’t do this to him,” I blurt out.
Her eyes widen in shock. “Do what?”
“Trap him,” I hiss. “Have you ever heard of birth control?”
She gapes at me, tears welling in her blue eyes. “What’s wrong with you?”
That’s the million-dollar question.
Everything.
Everything is wrong with me.
It’s why we’re in this stupid pharmacy in the first place. Aunt Becky thinks she can fix me with meds.
“Don’t do this to him,” I plead, my voice choking up.
Amy scowls. “I can’t exactly help that now, can I?”
“You could end—”
“Rylie!” Aunt Becky hollers from the end of the aisle. “Let’s go. You’re already late.”
“I would never do that,” Amy tells me, her bottom lip wobbling. “Never.”
“No,” I spit out. “Because all you think about is yourself.”
Storming away from her, I push past Aunt Becky and run out the door.
Away. Away from everyone. Away from it all.
I stare at the bottle of pills on my dresser. Same old dresser, new room. When my parents died, I was uprooted from my home and moved into my aunt and uncle’s place. Aunt Becky was horrified when I chose to bring my own furniture into my room rather than use her fancy stuff. Mom and I spent last summer sanding down all of my old furniture I had since I was a kid and repainting it. It’s kind of shitty because we both sucked at restoration, but it’s one of the few things we did together and had fun.
If Mom knew Aunt Becky was trying to shove all these pills down my throat, she’d freak. Mom was always so into holistic healing. Even when the doctor diagnosed me as bipolar, she assured him that through therapy and family support, I’d manage just fine.
I was managing just fine until they died.
Now, I’m spinning and spinning.
I hate my school. I hate this house. I hate everyone.
I especially hate Hudson.
He’s off living the perfect life with a probably pregnant girlfriend waiting on him. In another year, he’ll finish college and come back home to marry Amy. They’ll probably have ten kids and live in a fancy house next door to Aunt Becky and Uncle Randy. Meanwhile, I’ll still be Rylie, the one who can’t get a fucking grip on life.