Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
My brother wasn’t so easily fooled.
He came to my room after dinner and asked me what really happened and more specifically, who punched me, and I couldn’t look at him as I told him the truth.
My brother was sixteen and bigger than I ever thought I’d be.
He never came home with a black eye and probably never would, and I’d lost my first fight and cried about it like a baby.
CJ told me to follow him after hearing what really happened, and he took me to the unfinished part of our basement where he’d spend most of his time after school, when he wasn’t staying after for a sport. (He played them all.)
There were weights on the concrete floor and a heavy bag hanging, and he showed me how to hold my fist so I wouldn’t break my thumb, and demonstrated how to really hit someone, so I’d know what I was doing if I ever got into another fight. He showed me how to defend myself if I was ever outnumbered again.
And when I told him I couldn’t wait to show Matt Cummings and his douchebag friends what I’d learned, CJ smiled and looked proud of me, and I remember feeling so good despite how bad my face hurt.
The next day at school, I stalked the halls for my enemies with my fists clenched and ready. I wanted round two to happen before the morning bell and in front of the entire school.
I spotted them in front of a group of lockers and made my advance. I yelled Matt’s name and raised my fists.
He turned around to face me. They all did.
And they looked fucked up.
Matt’s nose was bleeding through the tissues he held against his face. And his friends wore matching busted lips. All three of them had blood on their shirts.
And all three of them looked terrified of me.
They scrambled away, tripping over each other after muttering apologies.
I must’ve looked so badass. I couldn’t wait to tell my brother.
That night at dinner, he sat across from me where he always sat, and I stared at his bloodied knuckles and listened to him tell his own lie to my parents when they probed for an explanation.
Then I waited until later and went to his bedroom for the truth, even though I think I already knew it.
“Do you really think I’d let them get away with that?”
“You’re my brother, Jake. I’ll always protect you.”
I’M A CAPRICORN
FELIX
I STIR AWAKE without the weight of Jake’s body on top of mine, and it’s too early. I know even before I roll onto my side and hang off the bed to check the time on my phone.
It’s just after two a.m.
My first reaction is to freak out, because I’m struggling just as much as he is and I know exactly what I’d like to be doing right now instead of sleeping, and if Jake’s not in bed with me, there’s a good chance he’s doing one or some or all of the things.
And I scramble out of bed so fucking fast I trip on my way out of the room and hit my face on the edge of the door.
“Fuck!”
I groan and hold my hand against my eyebrow as it throbs.
Then I rush down the stairs, pausing at the bottom when I smell something chocolate baking.
The kitchen light is on. And even though there’s no sign of Jake after I search the first floor, I’m not as panicked as I was minutes ago because he baked, and that has to mean what I hope it means.
I open the front door and sigh in relief when I find him sitting on the porch steps.
He’s shirtless and smoking.
“It smells amazing in there,” I say, taking a seat beside him and scooting over until our hips and shoulders touch.
I melt against his side.
Jake watches the ash burn on the cigarette he’s holding.
“So, this is why your car kind of smells like smoke…”
He peers over at me with tired eyes. “I can’t fight everything.”
“Were you trying to quit?”
He nods lightly. “After you told me about your mom, I figured I’d try giving it up for good. I rarely do it anymore anyway.”
I briefly press my lips against his bare shoulder. “That’s really sweet of you, but you don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t.”
Jake takes a long drag, then smudges the cigarette on the step before tossing the bud off the side and into the grass.
Smoke swirls and swells between us after he exhales, and I stupidly think about how fun it would be to shotgun a joint with him.
And I’ll never stop thinking that, will I?
I scrub harshly at my face, then I look over at him again.
“What did you bake?” I ask, needing to change topics. Besides, I am curious.
And hungry.
“Chocolate cake,” he says.
“Oh, fuck yeah. That’ll hit the spot.”