Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I sat down next to Henry, scooting into a comfortable position where I was hidden enough by the trees on either side of us. Nobody was around, but my eyes still flitted up every few seconds, checking that the coast was clear.
“So you brought alcohol,” I said.
He nodded. “And cookies.”
“Of course.”
He proffered the packet of Cocoa Bites and I took one, chewing as I contemplated drinking alcohol. The most liquor I’d ever had was a few sips of red wine with dinners. My mother had always let me try it during the holidays, saying that it made me a more “worldly” person.
I’d never liked the taste of alcohol, but as I watched Henry uncap the tiny bottle of orange liqueur and bring it to his lips, the desire to put my lips in that same place was immense.
He passed me the bottle and I went all in, swallowing past the syrupy-sweet burn in my throat.
I cleared my throat. “Tastes weird.”
“Kind of awful,” he agreed. “But also kind of nice, right?”
“I guess I like the orange flavor,” I said.
Another few minutes passed. The night was dead quiet other than the occasional gust of wind rustling through the pines. Henry and I traded the tiny bottle back and forth a few times, and I started to like the taste more and more. The alcohol was warming my blood.
It felt like Henry and I were on borrowed time now. I didn’t feel like I had much in life, but tonight I had this, a completely private moment between only the two of us, the scent of freshly cut wood and sweet orange filling the air.
I let out a long breath, leaning back a little on the pile of firewood.
“I don’t want to go back,” I said.
He nodded. “I know you don’t,” he said. “But it’s only three weeks. You’ll be back here soon.”
“Not soon enough,” I said, shaking my head.
“What’s so bad about it, anyway? It’s a castle, for God’s sake, it’s pretty much the coolest place you could possibly live.”
“Not really.”
“Is it bad inside? Like a vampire’s den? Haunted or something?” Henry asked. I could hear the change in his voice when he said the word haunted.
I puffed out a laugh. “Yeah. It’s full of ghosts.”
“Well, then I’m glad your mom’s never let me come visit you there. I’m good staying in places that aren’t haunted, thank you very much.”
“The castle isn’t haunted by anything other than the memory of my father, I guess.”
“Right,” Henry said, his voice soft. “Your mom really misses him. I can always tell.”
“You barely even know my mom,” I said.
He shrugged one shoulder. “Even when she comes to pick you up. She always says things about him. Your father would have liked this. Your father would be proud of that.”
“She never leaves me alone about how much she misses him,” I said, shaking my head and looking up at the dark grey sky. “How much she wants me to be like him. How I need to do everything right, or I’ll tarnish his legacy. He’s been gone for ten years now. But it’s like… the more time passes, the more Mom wants me to be like him.”
“You’ve got more pressure on you than anyone I know. Adults included.”
I looked down at the ground. “I don’t feel that pressure when I’m here in Berrydale,” I said.
“Yeah,” Henry said. “Only pressure you have here is me, pressuring you to break all your little rules.”
“Hey, tonight was my idea,” I said.
“Well, I’m glad you had it.” He squinted as he looked out into the distance. “And at least your parents care. Your mom cares, your aunt and uncle care. I swear half of the time my mom forgets she even has a kid.”
“That’s not true,” I said.
My family was a big, sprawling tangle of so many aunts and uncles and cousins, and my mother, of course, at the center of it all. She was the engine that kept the family running. Or, sometimes, kept the family afraid of her. She seemed to follow my every move, even when she let me spend time down here in Berrydale.
Henry’s family was small. His parents had been uninvolved ever since Henry was old enough to grab his own food from the fridge. His mom worked long hours at the hospital and his dad had passed away. Sometimes it felt like the only thing Henry and I actually had in common was that our fathers had both died when we were young.
I was massively envious of the freedom Henry had, even if my heart broke for his situation.
“Your mom cares, she just knows you can take care of yourself,” I said.
He shook his head. “Doesn’t seem like it, sometimes.” One wayward lock of his sandy brown hair came down across his forehead and I reached out to tuck it back behind his ear.