Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
“How would you know since you were passed out in the living room?” Kodiak counters. “And I talked to Quinn. I know it was you who brought her by. There are better ways to cheer him up.”
“Says the guy who filled the hole Quinn didn’t on our houseguest,” BJ scoffs.
I’m almost glad I haven’t had a chance to eat much today. I’d puke all over BJ’s brand new trainers, otherwise.
“BJ, have some class!” Lovey hisses.
“Sometimes the truth is dark and dirty. Isn’t that right, Bowman?”
I stiffen when Kodiak’s hand lands on the arm of the chair, his fingers curling around it, the tips going white with the pressure. There’s a brown smear on the back of his hand. He’s a compulsive hand washer. Sometimes when he was younger, he’d wash them so much, his skin would crack and bleed.
“You have no idea what the truth is, and you really don’t want to push me today.”
A heavy silence weighs down on me. BJ traces a figure eight on my shoulder, and suddenly I can’t breathe. It’s purposeful. An intentional reminder that BJ knows the history Kodiak and I share in ways most don’t.
“What’s eating you today, Kody?” he asks. “You must’ve taken the extra-strength dickhead pill this morning.”
“Fuck you, Balls.”
“You’re not really my type, but thanks for the offer.”
“You’re treading a thin line, and you know it.” Kodiak moves away, but the heaviness in the air is slow to dissipate.
“Dude’s got problems,” BJ mutters and gives my arm a squeeze. “This isn’t on you, Mini Waters.”
I finally pull myself out of the chair. “I should probably get going. My class is on the other side of campus.” I grab my latte and muffin, aware that class doesn’t start for another half hour, but I need to get away from Kodiak and the inevitable questions I’ll get from my cousins if I stick around. I can see Kodiak in the reflection in the windows, standing in line, making small talk with some starry-eyed girl.
No one calls me on bailing, because they know better. All of them know at least a little about my tumultuous past with Kodiak. But no one knows how bad things got, or how it all imploded, except him and me.
Chapter Six
Locked Closet
Kodiak
Age 11
I’M SWEATY AND stiff from standing in the same place for long minutes. It’s dark in this room, and I’m tired of being stuck behind this curtain. It’s been too long. My hiding place is too good. Maverick is never going to find me.
Just as I think this, the door opens and the light flicks on, sending shadows up the walls. Maverick’s footfalls are barely audible, but my heightened senses mean I can hear every tiny creak. I hold my breath, and a bead of perspiration trickles down my spine; anticipation makes my heart race. I need to take a deep breath to calm myself, but there’s a chance Mav will hear me if I do.
I want to win, but anxiety slithers down my spine, making my skin itch. I always feel like I want to burst out of it when it gets bad—like I want to be outside of my body. I wish my brain would shut off every once in a while.
I don’t think I can handle being stuck here with my thoughts if he moves on to another room without finding me. I missed a goal last night at hockey, and we lost. I can’t stop thinking about what I should have done differently. I feel bad about it, and it’s making me edgy.
I want to be still and silent inside, like Lavender is on the outside. Just thinking about her usually makes the spinning thoughts calm, but right now, it sends another uncomfortable jolt through me. I’m done, I decide. I move three inches to the right, causing the floorboard to squeak. Silence follows for a few agonizing seconds, and finally the curtain shifts to the side, light pouring in. I shield my eyes with my hand.
“Found him!” Maverick yells.
“It’s about time. That took for-freaking-ever,” BJ grumbles from the doorway.
I swipe my arm across my forehead. “You suck at this game, Mav.”
“Whatever. This is boring and I’m hungry. Let’s get a snack.”
I follow Mav down to the kitchen with Lacey and Lovey, the Butterson twins, tagging along, their matching pigtails swinging. Their family and BJ’s are visiting because it’s a holiday. That’s how it’s always been; all of our families get together and celebrate.
Mav peeks around the corner, checking to see if anyone’s looking, before he sneaks into the pantry and grabs a box of cookies and a bag of chips without asking the nanny. He tosses each of us a can of soda.
All of our parents are out for dinner, and that means the nannies get together and watch movies with the little kids while we get the run of the rest of the house. My mom would be mad if she knew I was eating chips and cookies after nine, but she’s not here right now. I’ll probably tell her later, though, because I don’t like the way guilt feels. It gnaws inside my head and makes me restless.