Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
He looks in the direction she walked. “I should shave my beard,” he mutters.
“I like your beard,” I counter.
“It makes me look older,” he says.
“You don’t look old; I’m just young. I’ll be eighteen in…”
“Twenty-seven days,” he says completing the math for me.
I grin at him. “You counting down? Planning on throwing me a birthday party?”
He cuts his eyes to his hands. “Yeah. Something like that.”
The mood shifts too quickly. The last thing I want is our easy talk and comradery to slip away.
“What’s your real name?”
“Dustin Andrews. What’s your last name?”
He seems like a Dustin. Laid back, not a care in the world. Suits him. “Devaro. Where were you born?”
He winks at me again. “Tennessee. Where were you born?”
“I knew I heard a little southern accent in your voice. I was born in Santa Fe.”
“Where are your parents?” This is the second time he’s asked me this. If I don’t give him something, I get the feeling he’ll never stop.
“My parents died when I was nine.” His face drops. Wait for it…
“I’m so sorry, Khlo.” Those are always the words always handed out when people hear about my family. And the next question…
He reaches his hands across the table for mine, but I pull them back and place them in my lap. “What happened?”
Without fail, the two questions go hand in hand. I guess people presume after almost a decade it’s easier to talk about. It’s not.
“I came home from a sleepover.” Truth. “I found them still in the bed.” Lie. “They died from carbon monoxide poisoning.” Lie.
I dart my eyes toward the kitchen hoping the mean waitress would come back. I’d rather have to deal with her snarky comments than have this conversation with him. I hated this conversation. I hated lying, but if the lie brings on so much pity then there’s no telling what the truth would bring.
He already thinks I’m some broken kid. The last thing I want is him walking on eggshells around me because he knows that my parents died a much more violent death than the peaceful one I portray when people ask. I do my best to stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks, but it’s futile.
“Fuck,” Kid says softly.
I hang my head and look at my hands. I feel him shift his weight; then he’s beside me, wrapping his arms around me while I sob into his shirt.
My childhood was perfect. Until it wasn’t. Anger, selfishness, and betrayal took my family from me. Thoughtless actions of two people threw me into foster care. Senseless behavior ruined my life.
I wipe my nose with a napkin from the table and gently shove against Kid’s chest. He slides out of the booth and I follow him.
“Excuse me for a minute,” I say as I hurry past him toward the restroom door.
I haven’t cried like that over my parents in a long time. I splash water on my face and try to calm down, certain that it’s my recent loss of Alec that is dredging all of this old stuff up. I clear my throat a hundred times until I can talk without my voice wavering. I wait a few minutes on top of that before heading out to the table. My eyes are red, puffy, and there’s no way to hide the fact that I’m still upset, but I hold my head high and walk back to the table as if I own the place.
Chapter 14
Kid
I watch Khloe’s back as she shuffles away from me toward the bathroom.
She lied to me about her parents. I could tell in the way her eyes darted, the way her breathing changed. To most people it would be a hard lie to catch. Clearly she’s told it more than a couple of times. The part I can’t figure out is why she felt the need to lie to me.
Is she ashamed of what really happened? The emotion over the loss was real, so I don’t doubt that they’re deceased, but the how is wrong.
Does she feel like she can’t trust me with the truth? That question bothers me more than the first. I have to keep in mind that she’s been in State care for what, at least eight years? People have pretended to care for her for a long time, when in fact, according to her, all they wanted was to collect the check the state provides.
She’s been conditioned over time not to trust anyone. Two things have to happen: I have to get her to trust me. She needs to know that there are people out there who can care about someone without having ulterior motives. Two: I have to get Shadow to look into her history. She may not want to tell me what really happened, but knowing may help me understand her better.