Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 107673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Mmm, Mom…” I said with my mouth still full. “Really good.”
“You look more like you’re goin’ on twenty rather than fifteen,” my nana teased.
“I’m too skinny,” I said before stuffing the last of the pancake into my mouth and reaching for the chocolate milk. My mom placed the rest in front of me. Probably not all for me, but I felt like I could make a strong play at finishing the plate off by myself.
“It’s not due to how much you eat,” my paw said, coming in through the kitchen entrance door, making a beeline to the coffeepot. “Your mom’s gonna go broke feedin’ you.”
I didn’t pay them any attention as I scooted my seat over to make room for my mom to sit beside me. This was the working hub for the B&B. Two meals a day, seven days a week, prepared for the guests in this small, outdated galley-style kitchen.
My mom didn’t sit. Instead, she laid her hand on my shoulder, gently squeezing before sliding her fingers into my hair. “You need a haircut.”
Yeah, I’d needed a haircut months ago, but I liked the growing-out look. Not short, but not long. I didn’t worry about the style. With the slight wave in my hair, I only had to swipe the strands off my face and they stayed away.
“Not ’til school starts,” I said with a knife for the butter in one hand and the bottle of honey in the other.
My devious mom was on her game, showing her ninja skills. She occupied me with food to then surprise me with a small, newspaper-wrapped gift over the shoulder. I was torn but ultimately decided to take a good hearty bite before taking the gift. I could chew as I opened the wrapping.
“Beau, you can barely keep the bite in your mouth,” my mom chided. But based on her own rules, she couldn’t get mad at me today. It was my birthday. I gave in and nodded because she wasn’t wrong and picked up the milk to wash it down.
My gaze stayed fixed on the present. Money was tight for us. My father was stalling on paying child support and giving my mom her portion of the sale of the house. He hadn’t helped pay for anything since she filed for divorce months ago.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked, my actions in complete contradiction. I rubbed my hands with a cloth napkin and reached for the gift.
“Of course. It’s your birthday,” my mom said cheerfully. She took the seat next to me, watching as I opened the present. It only took a good tug to rip the paper free to see a Nokia telephone box inside.
A cell phone. My gaze shot up at my mom. This had always been a hard no in the past. All my friends had phones, but I was never allowed.
“No way,” I said, not wasting any more time with the gift wrap as I tore into the box.
“Calm down,” my mom teased. She was happy, grinning broadly at my surprise.
“Can we afford this?” I asked, pulling out the blue phone, making easy work of the plastic case that kept it safe. The instruction manual fell onto the table beside my plate.
“Your plan has six hundred talking minutes and a hundred text messages a month for forty dollars,” she started to explain, but I interrupted her.
“I’ll pay for it.” I immediately saw the holes in my suggestion. Since we were staying at my grandparents’ bed-and-breakfast close to the bay, there were no jobs to be had within walking distance. The big business resort was apparently booming, giving a lot of locals the employment they needed. If I even considered getting a job there, my grandparents might never speak to me again. “I mean when I find a job.”
“It’s fine,” my mom said and moved a pancake off the stack to her plate. “Just make an effort to stay under your minutes.” Her gaze came back to me. She reached over to pat my thigh, smiling. “You deserve it. You’ve been through a lot.”
I reached for the charger, lifting from my seat to plug it into an outlet.
“Paw and I got you somethin’ too,” my grandmother said, getting to her feet before edging around the table.
“It’s all right, Nana,” I said. “I get what’s goin’ on around here.”
She smiled again at me, which was weirder than the first time. Two smiles in one day after a week of pure scowling. Maybe I needed to have birthdays more often.
“It’s not what I wish we could give you…” Paw said, pushing open the back door. The humidity hit first, then the warmth. From my angle, I couldn’t see what they tried to share.
I stood and craned my neck to see a ten-speed bicycle with a small red bow on the handlebars.