Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
I wish I could believe her. It’s almost shocking how much I wish I could believe her. Why don’t I get to be normal like everybody else? Why do I have to carry all these ugly, humiliating memories with me everywhere I go?
“Hey, girls.” Since I’m not looking up, I can’t see whether Carter exchanges anything beyond a glance with the two of them. Really, I don’t want to see. I don’t think I could handle it if either of them rolled their eyes or smirked.
It’s not often I want to believe somebody has good intentions, but I really want to believe they do.
Of course, I’ll only end up getting my heart crushed when it turns out they’re no better than Carter or any of the countless kids who made my life a living hell all through high school.
Especially the ones who decided to give me a swimming lesson one night.
Carter passes me on the way to the driver’s side door, and his brief nearness makes me shudder. I shouldn’t think about that now—not around him. Not around anyone. If the memories are going to come, they should come while I’m alone, so nobody sees how freaked I am.
Especially Carter, who doesn’t need any more excuses to bully me.
At least this time, he doesn’t bother trying to make conversation. It feels almost miraculous to pass the drive in silence. I just need to get home. I need to be alone and recharge my battery a little after spending hours around so many people. It’s exhausting, but it’s not like I can explain it to anybody. Nobody would listen, for one thing. Mom sure wouldn’t. She never has, even when I tried to tell her what happened that night. I thought I was dying, but all she could do after I tearfully poured my heart out was tell me to stop being so dramatic. Any illusions I still held onto about her being a caring mother vanished in smoke.
It’s a relief to pull into the driveway. Obviously, meeting Maya and Wren unsettled me more than I realize, since the sweat on my palm makes opening the door a challenge. Carter is already opening the front door and sailing through by the time I jog up the wide front steps. I’m surprised he doesn’t try to close it behind him and shut me out.
Was I hoping for a little peace and quiet today on my return? I was planning on running straight up to my room without saying a word to Mom.
As soon as we’re inside, it’s obvious I’m not going to get the chance.
“There you are! I was starting to wonder if you would ever get home.” Mom shakes her head as she emerges from the living room, where a handful of people are chatting, taking notes on tablets, and examining a stack of fabric swatches in different colors. “I told you the wedding planners were coming today, remember?”
I’m sure if Carter wasn’t standing only a few feet away, she would add a biting remark about how I never remember the important things; how my head is always in the clouds, and how she basically wishes I didn’t have to be a part of the wedding in the first place. But she and Paul are still in the honeymoon phase, meaning she can’t show her true colors yet. At least, not until she gets the big, splashy public wedding of her dreams.
“I came home right after class.” I glance toward Carter before I can help myself—he can back me up. But will he? No. He doesn’t say a word, only scoffing as he stares into the living room. No need to ask how he feels about all of this.
Either her head is too far up her liposuctioned ass to notice, or she knows it’s safer to overlook his attitude. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she heaves a sigh. “Well, you’re here now. I’m still not completely settled on the color of your dress. There are some fabric swatches in here that I’d like to hold up next to your face to see how they go with your coloring.” She’s still rambling on as she takes my wrist and almost drags me into the room. Carter, of course, doesn’t follow.
Will she ever get tired of humiliating me?
“How was your first day? Please tell me you made some friends.” She grabs a few swatches and holds them up next to me, scowling at every one. “Honestly, you’re the only person I’ve ever met who doesn’t look good in anything. Could you at least try? Put on a little mascara, a little eyeshadow. You might actually start looking like a human being instead of a zombie straight from the grave. At least this wedding will be a reason for you to wear something other than these ugly, shapeless clothes you insist on wrapping yourself in.”