Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Except Cole Harding saved my life.
Then fainted on me.
Why did I say all of that about flesh-eating diseases?
Mrs. Tucker told me to “take all the time I need” to recover after my “totally traumatic wooden avalanche fiasco”. I thanked her. Or I hope I did. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to recover. And I have even less of an idea what exactly I’m recovering from. Was I really in danger at all? Was I about to be crushed?
Did Cole overreact, or did he truly save my life?
Then the aftermath, when his face was so close to mine, and I saw him make the discovery of what happened to his arm. I still feel his fingers clinging desperately to me, as if they’re still there, and how his alarmed eyes locked onto mine, an unexpected note of vulnerability in his face and voice I have a suspicion no one’s truly seen or heard before. I don’t have any evidence to support this claim. It’s really more of a half-baked hypothesis.
Is it my imagination, or was something going on inside Cole? The way he looked at me was so intense. Maybe that’s just how he looks at everyone. Seems exhausting.
Am I reading too much into all of this?
I feel like this is happening to a different person. Someone far more interesting than me.
“You holding up?”
I glance up from my glass as if emerging from a dark cavern. Tamika smiles down at me, though her smile looks more like an apologetic grimace. She’s the one who recommended I hide here from all the noise. At least I think she did. Everything since Cole’s fainting is a bit of a muddy mess in my head.
“Can I sit with you?” she asks. I nod. She slides into the seat across from me. “If it means anything, I overheard that kid and his friends getting their asses handed to them outside. I’m fairly sure they’ll be grounded for the rest of their lives. Y’know, for almost accidentally committing manslaughter.” I nod again. “Ugh, I’m so sorry. I feel responsible. I made you go across the street and—”
I stir. “N-No, Tamika … This isn’t your fault.”
“Isn’t it, though? I let Burton get to me.” She scowls at herself. “He thinks because his dad’s the big man, he can push us around. Didn’t your father used to run the paper?”
“Grandfather.”
“And he has the audacity to treat you the way he does? That just makes my blood boil. If he wanted a story that badly, his ass should’ve been down here looking for it, too. Instead, we’re the ones pressured to do this, to do that, and now you’re sitting here in Biggie’s drinking a glass of water.” She peers at me. “You sure you don’t want a soda? Or, like … beer? You’re twenty-one, right?”
I nod. “Since February, yes. But, um … no,” I say. “Just water’s good. I’m fine. I-I promise this wasn’t your fault. I should’ve been more observant.”
“Noah …”
“There was a high probability of incident today. It was a risk I took myself to partake of the festival in such a direct manner. I could have sought a story in many other ways. I chose to stand where I stood. I didn’t notice the kids running around, nor the precarious stack of items I stood next to. There are just too many variables involved to assign blame to anyone or anything for what happened. Even the kid. I must assume my own responsibility.” I clutch my glass, take a sip, then stare at it as my mind races.
Tamika gazes at me thoughtfully as she leans back. “Goodness gracious. When you turn into Robot Noah, I swear all your insides come right out, smooth as butter.”
I peer up at her. She’s called me that before. “You really think I’m a robot?”
Tamika smiles. “Your brain must be a fascinating place to live in sometimes. Oh, hey! I nearly forgot.” She pulls out her phone. “I took some pics from my side of the street. Also, I gathered a few from nearby witnesses, one of whom actually captured the picture frames falling.” She rolls her eyes. “I love this age we live in where people would rather record something catastrophic than step in to stop it. Oh, look, you’ve got a cute expression in this one,” she says with a giggle, sliding the phone across the table.
I stare down at a shot of me on the ground, my eyes wide and shimmering with boundless terror, with the athletic build of Cole on top of me, half-cradling me in his arms like a distressed prince he just saved from a tower.
I have no idea what part of this Tamika finds cute. What is this odd look on my face? Is that my allegedly off-putting expression Burton keeps pointing out? Am I angry, constipated, or Martian?