Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
“Sure, come talk to me when you have kids and your hamster accidentally gets eaten by a red-tailed hawk. Would you rather your child live in ignorance and love an impostor hamster, or do you plan on sharing all the gory details? And I’m talking gory.”
“Oh my God, Dad, did that happen to you? Did a hawk eat your hamster?”
“Yes.” He sounds glum. “And Grandpa Lou sat me down and gave me a play-by-play of his death. I’m sure if he’d taken pictures of the carnage, he would’ve showed them to me.”
I bust out laughing. Oh man. Dad’s father was the greatest. It honestly sucks that I lost both my grandfathers within a couple years of each other. But at least my grandmothers are still alive and kicking.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Dad says. His gaze flicks toward the kitchen. “I wouldn’t mind getting a turtle. I think they’re cool. But Nia isn’t having it. She insists they’re a lot more work than we think.”
“Maybe there’s a certain breed that’s easier to own than others,” I point out. “Did you even research it?”
“No.”
“Did Nia?”
“I don’t think so. She just shot down the idea point-blank. Told the girls we’ll talk about it next year.” Dad purses his lips for a moment. Mulling. “You think I should get them one?”
“Not necessarily. But I don’t think it hurts researching the pros and cons.” Crap. This isn’t going to endear me in Nia’s eyes. She already doesn’t like me. But I feel like I owe it to my sisters to advocate for their dreams of turtle ownership. “I mean, it can’t hurt, right? The least you can do is go to a pet store and talk to someone about it.”
“Yeah. I suppose we could do that.” One corner of his mouth quirks up, and then his eyes start twinkling. “Whatcha doing tomorrow morning?”
“Um.” I offer a pointed look. “Potential turtle shopping?”
“Damn right.”
We both snicker, exchanging secretive smiles when Nia and the twins return and we all settle around the table for dinner. It makes me feel like a little kid again, sharing a secret with my father. It’s rare to have these bonding opportunities with him, where we’re truly connecting without the heavy pall of my mother or Nia hanging over us. Those rare times when it’s just us, me and him. The way it used to be when I was a child and he was my dad. When he didn’t have two other kids, or two different wives who both can’t stand to be around me.
I cling to those moments, because they’re so few and far between.
CHAPTER 10
CASSIE
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Dad whispers the next morning.
“I can’t believe you’re wearing a disguise,” I respond in a normal speaking volume, for there is absolutely no reason for us to be whispering.
“I told you, Nia’s friend works at the bakery over there,” Dad protests, nodding toward a storefront on the other end of the strip mall. He glowers. “Chandra. One of the nosy PTA moms. I don’t want her to notice me.”
“Dad. You’re wearing a hot-pink adventure hat with a purple string. She is absolutely going to notice you. In fact, you had a better chance of her not caring what your face looks like without the hat. Now she’s going to want to see your face in order to understand what sort of person would ever choose to wear that hat.”
“All I’m hearing is, you love my hat.”
“That’s not what I’m saying at all.”
He just grins. We’re a few feet from the entrance of the pet store when he says, “The girls loved seeing you last night, by the way. They were going on and on over breakfast about that bedtime story you told them, the one about the purple dragon? You need to start writing some of those down, Cass. I bet if you compiled all the stories in one file, you could have an entire—”
I suddenly gasp.
“What? What is it?” he demands, looking around in a panic. “Have we been compromised?”
“Oh my God, no. Dad, the baker lady doesn’t give a shit about you.” I’m practically bouncing with glee. “But you just gave me the best idea for the girls’ birthday present. I can take one of the Kit ’n McKenna stories and create a children’s book for them. I’m sure I could find a place to print a hardcover version of it.” I pause. “I just wish I could draw. It would be cool to have illustrations to go with the story.”
My mind snaps into troubleshooting mode, scanning through every person I’ve ever met in my life while I try to recall if they possess any artistic talent.
Robb! I remember in triumph. Robb Sheffield was my stepbrother for five years during Mom’s marriage to his dad, Stuart. He was always doodling in his sketchpad when we watched TV together, mostly drawing fantasy-type stuff, like freaky-looking monsters and warriors with deadly weapons. He works in video-game design now, creating the kind of imagery that’s a lot grislier than a tale of a little girl and a purple dragon, but maybe he’d be willing to do me this favor.