Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
He pauses. It’s hard for Austin to ask for assistance which is exactly why I always offer it.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, moving toward his dresser to get a fresh change of clothes.
“I already finished, so I have plenty of time tonight.”
Some of his anger drains as the tension leaks from his shoulders. “Thanks, Summer.”
“Let me know when you’re ready to work.”
He jerks his head into a tight nod before stepping toward his private bathroom and hesitating over the threshold. “Everything go all right after school?”
I swallow down the truth as my gaze darts toward the window and the rolling green lawn of the golf course in the distance. I should tell Austin about the G-wagon, but he’s already dealt with enough shit today. The last thing I want to do is add more to it. Hopefully, the vandalism was a onetime thing.
“It was fine.”
“Good.” Relief floods through his voice before he disappears into the bathroom and closes the door.
For the first time in our lives, Austin and I are keeping secrets from each other. Out of all the changes this move has created, that shouldn’t be one of them. Something tells me that our situation here is going to get far worse before it gets any better.
Chapter Twelve
Mom’s comment about the first day being the hardest couldn’t have been more wrong.
Every hour I spend at Hawthorne Prep is agonizing. For the first time in my life, I dread going to school and count down the hours until I’m able to flee from the property at precisely half past two.
By the time Friday rolls around, I could almost weep with joy. Two blissful days spent away from Hawthorne seems like a much-needed reprieve. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m beginning to hate the sound of my own last name.
I sleep late Saturday morning and spend the rest of the day exploring the house. Mom convinces me to go grocery shopping with her in town where everyone steers clear of us and is unfriendly as fuck. Mom pretends not to notice, instead smiling and waving at everyone we meet before chatting up the clerk at the checkout. After we load groceries into the back of the Volvo, she tells me that small-town folks aren’t always open to newcomers and we have to kill them with kindness.
Honestly, I would just prefer to kill them.
That muttered comment earns me a frown along with a gentle rebuke.
Whatever.
Her tune would change mighty fast if she spent a week at Hawthorne Prep.
I help cook dinner Saturday night—fish tacos, a family favorite. Once night falls, I grab a blanket and head outside to get lost in the stars. It’s one of the few reprieves I have.
On my way across the yard, I hear voices coming from the next-door neighbor’s property. Raucous laughter mixed with shouting. With a flash, I remember the red convertible Mustang that zipped past us the first day of school. With everything else going on, I had forgotten about him.
Hmmm. My eyes narrow. Is he one of the assholes that egged my SUV?
I really hope not.
Sunday morning, I finish my homework and help Austin with a few assignments. He still won’t tell me about the blackeye or if there have been any other problems at practice. It’s beyond frustrating.
While unpacking the last few boxes of my belongings, I come across my running shoes and decide that now is as good of a time as any to get back into it. I search through my drawers and find a black crop tank that hugs my chest, camo mesh running shorts, and a pink cap to shade the sun from my eyes. Then I grab my AirPods and head to the front door.
“Going for a run?” Mom asks, carrying a vaseful of fresh flowers to the black Steinway by the staircase.
“Yup.”
“Good.” She nods before setting down the Waterford crystal container and rearranging a few stems. “I think that’s exactly what’s needed to make you feel better.”
“We’ll see,” I say evasively.
My mother is an eternal optimist. I was too before moving to this hellhole.
“Use your GPS if you get lost.”
“I will, but I don’t plan to run that far,” I say before closing the front door behind me.
As I leave the house, I shove the buds in my ears, choose a playlist, and move through some quick stretches. Then I hit the driveway before turning onto the tree-lined subdivision road. I don’t have a particular route in mind as I set out. After about a block, I pick up the pace and explore the entire subdivision. It’s one monstrous mansion after another, which is strange, given that the town of Hawthorne is in the middle of nowhere.
Do all these people work for Hawthorne Industries or are there other businesses in the area? When I find a second way into the sub, I head out onto the main country road. After about a mile, I hit the front entrance that Austin and I take to school.