Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
This place is an escape for her. She suffocates in the Falls like I do, both, in part, due to our parents’ history.
“But more than anything,” Farrow continues, “I wanted a girl.”
I tilt my head, seeing him grin. His eyes dance like something downright evil is playing behind them, which is even more eerie, because they’re such an innocent shade of blue. Like cornflowers.
“It couldn’t have worked out better,” he boasts.
“Yeah, considering—” Calvin starts to say.
But Farrow interjects. “Shhh.”
People drift by, their eyes taking me in, and he continues walking, passing an old Nova with the engine running. The six-liter pipes pump out exhaust in clouds, the car rumbling on the pavement as a young woman leans back against the fender with her shirt unbuttoned.
I don’t watch where I’m walking. Just stare as the car vibrates against her body, making the slivers of her breasts I can see shake. She peels off the shirt, standing topless as everyone gazes at her, and some guy stalks up to her, pulling off his T-shirt. She dares him with her eyes, and everyone watches as he takes her ass in his hands and presses his naked chest to hers.
And they keep going.
I narrow my eyes, watching him unzip the back of her skirt and then start to unfasten his jeans, their eyes never leaving each other, and no one else’s gaze faltering from them. Their bodies pulsate against each other, trembling with the car, and my feet move under me, taking them out of my line of sight.
What the f—?
“So why did you volunteer?” I hear Farrow ask.
But I still crane my neck, trying to see if the exhibitionists are taking everything off. “What are they doing?”
But my voice is barely a whisper.
“Was it ego?” he doesn’t seem to hear me.
“Escape?” Calvin chimes in.
I turn my attention back to them, Farrow broaching further. “Entertainment, maybe? Is that why you volunteered?”
“We’re soooo entertaining,” Mace jeers, circling me.
A deep brown townhouse looms behind Farrow, a light glowing in both of the bottom-floor windows and one on the second. Tattered curtains hang over them, and I spot the house number on a black oval plaque with gold trim next to the large brown front door.
01.
I open my mouth, but I’m not sure what I wanted to say. Something scratches at a far corner of my brain.
House numbers beginning with zero are rare. I’m remembering something.
01…10. Zero-one. One-zero.
I glance at the houses on both sides of this one. 1313 to my left. 1323 to my right. 1333 next to that one…
I’m lost in thought when Farrow continues. “You came with us because you thought that who your father is would matter. You wanted a fresh audience, didn’t you?”
The house behind Farrow is misnumbered. It doesn’t fit in the sequence with the others on the street.
Zero-one.
And backwards, it reads, One-zero.
Zero-one.
One-zero.
Zero-one.
One-zero.
And then it hits me.
01 and 10. My face falls. Their football numbers.
I shoot my eyes up, taking in the house again. Three stories, a gable over the entryway, a small lantern on the right side of the grand door, and the shadow of the flame inside dancing against the dark house.
This is where she was last seen.
“Knock Hill,” I whisper.
That’s what Aro had said.
This neighborhood is Knock Hill, but while all of the houses lining both sides of the road are similar, there’s only one that’s infamous.
He brought me to the house.
“Well, it does matter who your father is,” Farrow goes on.
“Good,” I say, but my voice shakes a little now. “He doesn’t take his anger out on who deserves it. He takes it out on whoever he can reach. Be careful.”
I steel my jaw. I’m not running home.
My phone rings, buzzing in my hand, and I hold it up, but before I can see who’s calling, Mace snatches it away.
“Hey.” I reach to take it back, but she tosses it to Calvin, who glances at the screen and smirks.
“Aro Marquez,” he says, handing it to Farrow.
He takes it. “She’s too late.”
“Where are the adults?” I ask.
“I’m an adult.”
“Where am I staying?” I demand next. “What’s going on?”
They stare at me, Mace and Calvin flanking their boy. Calvin tips his head toward Farrow. “He won’t like this.”
He?
But Farrow tells him, “He’ll love it.”
Who will love what? Jesus, fuck.
The door to the house opens, and Coral Lapinski appears, jogging down the steps with a couple of other girls.
“We good?” Farrow asks her.
She nods, sliding her hands into her jacket pockets and looking at me.
“Are you sure about this?” Calvin questions Farrow.
But Farrow ignores him, closing the distance between us and holding out his hand. “You need sleep. Come on.”
I fold my arms over my chest. He drops his hand, turns, and leads the way up the stairs.
Everyone else stays put, as do I.
They’d be stupid to harm me, right?
But then again, are any of them smart? Prone to common sense?