Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
She waits until Dad leaves for work to finally bring up what’s weighing on her mind. “So RJ talked to Fenn.”
The legs of my chair scrape the hardwood floor as I abruptly push back from the table and walk over to dump my plate in the sink. The dogs follow me, hoping and praying that some breakfast scraps fall to the floor and into their eager mouths.
“I’ll be in the car,” I mutter before stalking out of the room.
For months, my life hasn’t been my own. Everyone feels entitled to, or responsible for, some piece of it. All of them muscling their way toward the center. And none of them hear me. They assume anything I say is a riddle to decipher, when really, sometimes I simply want to be left alone.
But on the drive to school, Sloane can’t help herself.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” she starts.
“So, you’re going to anyway.” I keep my gaze out the windshield.
“Have you spoken to Fenn?”
Please don’t leave me.
My heart shrieks with agony as his tortured plea whispers through my mind.
God. I can’t erase the torrent of pain in his blue eyes when he’d asked me not to leave him, and yet at the same time it sparks a jolt of fury. How dare he look at me like that? Like I was the one in the wrong. Like I was committing some atrocious act by walking away from his sorry ass.
“I know you mean well, but I have one request,” I say, still staring straight ahead. “Never mention Fenn’s name to me again.” It stings in my teeth. Turns my tongue sour.
“Okay…” Sloane slides a brief glance at me.
I know she wants to ask for details, and I hope my demeanor is projecting that she does so at her own risk.
“But we have to figure out what to do about the security video,” she reminds me. “It’s probably evidence tampering or something if we don’t give it to the cops. And there might be a chance they can use it to figure out who was driving—”
“I don’t care,” I mumble to myself. I’m restless and exhausted. Sorry I didn’t feign sick and stay in bed.
This day hasn’t even started yet, and I can’t wait for it to end.
“What’d you say?”
“I said I don’t care,” I repeat, louder. “I don’t care who was driving. I don’t care about any of it anymore. Delete the video for all I care. I’m done with all of this. I want to move on and forget about it.”
“Case.”
In disbelief, Sloane watches the side of my face while I turn to look out the window at the parking lot and into another day of whispers and innuendo. The butt of every joke. A one-dimensional person reduced to a single event.
“I’m serious,” I tell my sister. “I don’t care about the accident or the tape. It’s over.”
I hop out of the car and slam the door behind me, not giving Sloane a chance to argue or dive into another long and involved conversation about my emotional state. My state is fed up. Thoroughly bored with myself. Tired of this rut and knowing every day when I walk into school, I’m the girl who got fished out of the lake at prom.
“God, Casey. You look terrible.” Ainsley spots me walking to my locker. She catches up, flanking me with Bree. “Rough night?”
Sloane would have some witty comeback. A biting remark that would cut Ainsley off at the knees and devastate her so completely, her grandkids would have bruises.
But I hate confrontation. What’s the point? As much as I like to imagine a different version of myself, I’m not the girl who likes to fill the hallway with her voice, to make everyone stop and look. Instead, I put my head down and keep walking, quick enough that they’d feel silly following, until finally I’m around the corner and out of sight.
As I grab my textbook for first period, I catch a glimpse of someone watching me a few lockers down. Jazmine something or other. She’s in half my classes. I said hi to her on the first day of school, and she’d merely shrugged and muttered, “Yeah, okay.”
As far as I can tell, she keeps to herself, same as me. Except in her case, it seems to be self-imposed. She’s pretty enough that she could easily hang out with girls like Ainsley and Bree, yet she prefers to sit alone in the dining hall, focused on her phone. Me, I’d give anything to have someone to sit with at lunch. An ally who isn’t my older sister.
Jazmine smirks when our eyes meet. I don’t know what she finds so amusing, but I avert my gaze and walk away.
CHAPTER 12
RJ
FENN IS BARELY PRESENT ON THE WAY TO BREAKFAST BEFORE CLASS in the morning. Vacant, shuffling across the courtyard to the dining hall with his head down. I had to catch him on the way out of our room to put shoes on when he almost walked out barefoot. I don’t know what to do with him like this. This isn’t the Fenn Bishop I know. The guy with the easy grins and dirty jokes and weird comments. In the hot food line, he’s an empty vessel. Caught in a trance. I pull a tray for him and stick food on it because I’m not sure he’s aware of his surroundings. I suspect it’s just automatic motor responses that get him as far as our usual table to sit and stare blankly at the distance.