Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 137572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 688(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 459(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 688(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 459(@300wpm)
“For goodness’ sake, ain’t no one around here calls me that. Except that goblin that just hopped on by.” She extends a hand to me. “Nadine. That’s what you call me.”
Reluctantly, I shake her hand with my gloved one.
Paul comes to her side. “Can we let the boy take a leak now? He’s probably desperate and we’ve got a party to resume hosting.”
With that, the pair of them head downstairs, and I shut the door behind me, silencing all the noise of the party. In the quiet peace of the bathroom, I look at myself in the mirror, and for the first time in weeks, I feel a strange sense of belonging.
Maybe this town really does have a place for me.
“Are we ready for the contest??” asks Toby excitedly when I return downstairs to him. “Is my hair still doing that cool thing it did before we left your house? I feel like it isn’t.”
I take Toby right then and press my lips to his face.
Kelsey nearby hoots at us. That’s followed by Frankie and a giggly Tamika, who start cheering as if our gross public displays of affection are their new favorite sport. Toby soon gives in, as he throws his arms around me and deepens the kiss. And just like that, we’re back to our old selves.
Until a nearby crash flings a deluge of punch all over us.
We separate, punch dripping from our drenched costumes. I turn to find the punch bowl at our side knocked over, all of its red, sticky contents dripping off the edge of the table onto our boots and down our legs. I lift my eyes across the table. Julio stands next to a gawping Benji, whose face looks on the verge of a laugh. Hoyt is behind the two of them, a look of shock in his eyes. All three are shirtless with their uniform colors painted on their chests. When I look back at Toby, I realize he got the worst of it, his pants stained blood red along with his sash and tunic. The look in his eyes says it all: His costume is ruined.
“Oops,” says Julio, a smug look on his face.
I face him. From that look, I know in an instant it was him.
He did this.
It’s rage that fills me when I whip around the table and go straight for Julio. I don’t hear Toby calling out at me as I lunge for the jock’s smug face, my teeth gnashed. Benji comes between us, and for once, his face isn’t on the verge of laughing. “Hey, hey, hey! Stop!” cries out Hoyt as he joins Benji in holding me back. Julio continues to smirk superiorly at me, enjoying the rage.
Until Benji and Hoyt topple over, unable to restrain me any longer. The next moment, I’m upon Julio, and after one missed swing of my fist, the pair of us tumble to the ground in a fit of limbs, sticky punch stains, and armor.
When I wind back my fist again for a second shot, someone’s taken hold of it, and I’m peeled off of Julio at once. I throw my elbow trying to free myself, then am spun around by a muscular set of arms, which pin me in place against the nearby wall. It’s Coach Strong, who now stands like a brick barrier between his three jocks and me. “Stop it!” he orders us all, turning his head back and forth between us. “That’s enough, all of you!”
By now, the entire kitchen and half the living room have gone silent. Only a thumping, Halloweeny soundtrack from the stereo system fills the room, which I didn’t even know was playing. All eyes are on us and the scene we’ve caused.
“It was a damned accident,” states Julio.
“Like hell it was,” I spit back, pushing against Coach Strong’s hand, but he holds me in place even still. “You tossed that punch bowl over and ruined Toby’s costumes.”
“I said it was an accident!” he shouts out, doubling down.
Hoyt comes around Coach Strong, hands lifted in surrender in the same way he approached me in the locker room. “Vann, calm down. Julio’s a fairly big guy. He bumped into the table. Totally innocent. Why would we want to ruin y’all’s pretty costumes?”
‘Pretty’. More mockery. I slip out from the coach’s grip and put my face an inch before Hoyt’s. “Or maybe the truce is off and it doesn’t matter who the hell hears what I gotta say about you.”
“Vann.”
It’s Toby. Anger pumping through my veins, I peel my eyes off Hoyt’s and find Toby still standing there on the other side of the table drenched in sticky red punch. In his eyes, all I see is pain and fear. Why is he afraid? Doesn’t he realize I can protect him from these guys? Doesn’t he want me to?