Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79499 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79499 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
I’ll grab something at the coffee shop after the meeting with Bonnie.
Feeling sorry for Mrs. Henderson, I grab a paper towel and wipe up my mess.
I shower and dress, still smarting that Cora chose to deflower my favorite cookies over every other prank at her disposal. I guess she couldn’t have known that she was unfairly targeting me, but it’s still smarts. Shoving my feet into socks, I grumble over the fact that I haven’t even done anything to her, and she’s managed to hit me back the hardest. I didn’t want to get involved, but now she’s drawn me into this ridiculously childish game that will only end in tears.
Grabbing my wallet and phone, I jog downstairs, finding Mark in the hallway looking perplexed.
“Morning,” I say, nodding at his smartly dressed form.
“Shoes?” he says questioningly.
“What?” I shake my head at his monosyllabism.
“There aren’t any shoes,” he mumbles, looking around.
“Mrs. Henderson’s cleaning up. Maybe she packed them away.”
“I asked her, and she said she hadn’t moved anything.” He glances at his watch, a slick, silver timepiece our father gave him for his eighteenth birthday. “I’m running late for a meeting.”
Heading over to the closet where our coats and shoes are stored, if we can ever be bothered to move them from where they’re discarded by the door, I’m baffled to find it empty of footwear. Completely empty of any shoes. It’s cavernous and echoing in its emptiness.
My head swivels to Mark, my mouth dropping open as the lightbulb flashes over my head.
“Cora,” I whisper, still not quite believing the truth of my assumption.
“What about Cora?” Mark says, tipping his head to the side as I straighten and close the closet door.
“She’s taken our shoes. All our shoes.”
“What?” Mark’s expression is a hilarious mix of confusion and disbelief, which would usually have made me snort with laughter, but under the circumstances, it is just frustrating.
“She’s pranking us back. She hit the milk and the Oreos. Now she’s taken the shoes.”
“But…how will I go to work without shoes?” my brother moans, clutching his hands by the sides of his head.
“Don’t you have shoes in your room?” I ask, racking my brain over what might be lingering in my closet upstairs.
“Maybe,” he says, his eyes rising as he thinks. “Fuck this.” He starts to jog upstairs, and I follow, praying I tossed some of my sneakers in my closet rather than leaving them downstairs. Mark reaches his room first, diving inside as I continue down the hallway. After a few seconds, he groans, but I ignore it, needing to discover what I’m going to be wearing for the day.
There’s nothing.
Well, actually, there’s something, but it’s not a good option.
Beach sliders.
Seriously. I look down at my casual outfit. At least I don’t need to wear a suit today. My ripped jeans and AC/DC shirt aren’t business wear, but they’re also not ideally matched with open-toed shoes. What the hell is Bonnie going to say?
I glance at my own watch, finding the hand well past the time I needed to leave to arrive early enough to be prepared. Shit.
I grab the rubber shoes, shove my feet into them, and jog down the hallway. As I pass Mark’s room, he emerges with a pair of muddy sneakers on his feet. He looks ridiculous with the suit and his grim expression. I guess it’s a pot-calling-kettle situation, but hey, brothers, don’t let anything pass.
“What the fuck is your boss going to say?” I ask him.
“I’m going to have to stop at the store to buy something else,” he says.
“What about the meeting?”
The reminder makes him groan again. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he mutters. “Fucking Danny.”
“And Tobias. They literally fucked this situation into existence.”
“Fucking, Cora,” Mark says viciously, staring at her closed door.
We could freak out at her, but that’s not my scene, or Mark’s, really. I don’t want her calling the cops and reporting a domestic disturbance. She got us good, but we can get her back. There are five of us and only one of her. Maybe Danny was right. Maybe she does need to be taken down a peg or two.
“Later,” I say, already dashing down the stairs. “We’ll talk later. Come up with a plan of action.”
“Definitely,” he says, his worn sneakers squeaking on the floor as he follows me.
You’re too old for this, my internal voice whispers. Tell your brothers to make peace with her before it goes too far. But I was never good at listening to the angel on my shoulder. As I stumble in my sliders, almost face-planting into the side of my car, I swear loudly and vow to get Cora back, whatever it takes.
By the time I get home later, my phone has been blowing up with messages all day. Danny, Tobias, and River had two ruined pairs of shoes between them. Danny ended up going to the store with River to buy everyone new sneakers, and while they were out, someone installed a new lock on the master suite. Cora might have gotten herself one step ahead, but we’re taller with bigger strides. I have no doubt we can end up in first place.