Excerpt:
What am I
doing? Why do I even care about her name? I don’t know her. I don’t want to know her. I’ve never seen her
before in my life. We have our brief encounter earlier this afternoon where she
told me no and pissed me off. Now here she is again.
Wearing a
really messed up black uniform that’s shapeless and does nothing for her but
make her look bad. Her hair is dark, dark brown and her eyes are a wide,
innocent blue. She looks completely untouchable, like no girl I’ve ever been
interested in before and I’m asking for her name like I care or something.
“It’s
Chelsea,” she answers and I turn it over in my head. Over and over. Again and
again.
Chelsea. Chelsea. Chelsea.
“I was, uh,
hoping I could meet up with you tomorrow so I could get my assignments from
you.” Man, this is awkward. We’re standing in the middle of this shitty diner,
where Des and Wade can overhear every single thing I’m saying to Chelsea the
innocent tutor with the blue, blue eyes and the pink, pink lips. They don’t
even know what’s going on. I’m going to hear an endless amount of crap once we
leave this place.
“Tomorrow?
Friday?” Her delicate brows draw downward and her entire face scrunches up like
she’s adorably confused. Which she is. Adorable.
Dude. Cut with the adorable crap.
“Tomorrow
is Thursday,” I remind her.
“Noo, today
is Thursday, considering it’s almost four in the morning.”
“Right.”
She makes me feel like a dumbass. I don’t like it. “Can we meet later this
afternoon then? I need to get those assignments, especially if we’re not going
to see each other again until Monday.”
A lot can
happen between now and Monday. Crap I can’t even begin to consider. I feel like
I’m walking on a tightrope, weaving this way and that, just waiting for the
right amount of wind to send me toppling over and plummeting to my death.
This is
what my life has turned into. The push and pull. The wanting to do right and
instead, falling into the same old habit of doing wrong. I want to tell Fable
the truth. I want to tell Mom to leave me alone.
I know deep
in my heart, I will do none of that. I will keep going. Keep up the pretense of
right and wrong. Of living two lives. One where I’m the good brother who does
what Drew and Fable wants me to do. And then there’s the other side, where I’m
the good son who slips his mom some money when she comes around asking for it,
which is all the time. Then smokes a joint with her and begs her to buy him
some beer.
Sometimes,
I really hate myself.
