Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 112567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Jesus, take the wheel.
Tired, I still had my eyes closed as I yelled. “Eh!”
The apartment went silent.
Yawning, I rubbed my eyes. “First of all, stop cursing! Neither one of you are grown enough to pay rent. Until you can pay a bill, keep the dialogue PG!”
No response came.
“And Chloe, get out of the bathroom.” Another yawn left me. “And hang up with whatever raggedy headed boy you’re talking to for today. You need to be focused on getting up your GPA, not Tom or whoever and whatever he’s doing on Instagram.”
My body ached.
I twisted to the side to get the creaks out. “And get ready for school!”
Chloe’s sigh vibrated through to my room. “Timothy, I’ll call you back.”
Jo laughed. “That’s right. Bye-bye, Timmy Tim-Tim.”
Another loud sigh filled the air.
Jo chuckled. “And hurry up, too.”
A door creaked.
“Shut up, Jo.” Chloe stomped her feet down the hall. “You didn’t even have to go until I was in the bathroom. You always do that.”
“That doesn’t even make any sense,” Jo countered. “It’s just one damn bathroom in here.”
“Stop cursing!” I finally opened my eyes.
The quiet returned.
God, please let them be silent for just five minutes. That’s all I ask for today. Just five minutes.
My head was foggy, but I was slowly waking up.
I moved the blanket off me. The chill of the air hit my body fast. I’d worn thick Cookie Monster pajamas, but they still could never battle against a Glory fall morning. At least they were cute. It was a pattern of dark blue Cookie Monsters floating in a baby blue sky and munching on chocolate chip cookies.
This fall is getting colder and colder.
Movement shifted on my mattress.
What the fuck?
I looked to my side.
To my surprise, my baby sister TT lay next to me in bed, holding her teddy bear, Snuggles. She yawned and stretched her little eleven-year-old body.
I stared down at her.
TT opened those adorable brown eyes and gave me her sweetest smile. “Good morning, sis.”
My parents had me in high school. They were both fifteen and from poor families. My father married Mom before I was born, and they lived with my grandmother.
Once they graduated, Dad got a factory job and moved them into the small three-bedroom apartment we still live in now. By then, Mom was expecting Jo.
Chloe showed up years later at a time when my parent’s marriage was barely hanging on. They were in their twenties—poor and with three kids. Neither ever got to truly live their lives as teens or explore the world.
When TT came much later, Mom hoped that she would be the miracle baby, so she named her Miracle. Meanwhile, Dad would always call her his tiny treasure. Jo and I shortened the nickname to TT.
I studied my baby sister. “Why are you in my bed?”
She gave me a wicked smirk. “You never said I couldn’t sleep in here.”
“You watched another scary documentary?” I frowned. “Didn’t you?”
The sweet smile cracked. “I thought this documentary wouldn’t be scary.”
“Was it more on Paradise’s first settlers in the West burning women they thought were witches.”
“No, but it was still about the West.” She looked away. “This one was on the black town of Crownsville and—”
“TT, we talked about this. No more documentaries on Dream Lake or any of those Crownsville ghost stories. It’s inappropriate for your age.”
Taking Snuggles with her, TT got up fast, telling me she’d been awake for a while. “But the more I know about the history of Paradise, the more I can get clues on the Crownsville Bandits’ Lost Treasure.”
I slid to the edge of the bed and placed my feet on the cold wooden floor. “TT, that is just a fake legend. It’s not real. There is no lost treasure.”
“But I’m the smartest kid in my school.”
Groaning, I dragged myself out of bed. “Yes. Yes.”
“I’m not some stupid little girl, Moni. I don’t believe in Santa.”
The floor creaked under my tired feet. Yesterday, I’d done double shifts at the strip club, waitressing to losers in six-inch heels and wearing nothing but a corset, wig, and thong. Then three assholes showed up out of nowhere and robbed the place.
“Moni, I’m not dumb. The Crownsville Bandit was real.”
I cracked my neck. “Yes, but—”
“If he’s real then the treasure is real, too.”
“TT, the Crownsville Bandit was a criminal.”
“Do you think Batman is a criminal?”
“I think you need to leave me alone.” I sat back down on the bed and stretched each aching foot.
“Just like Batman, when one of those racist people from the South bothered Crownsville residents, the Bandit visited those bullies in the night.” Excited, TT crawled to my side of the bed. “The Bandit wore a black mask and a huge red cowboy hat that wasn’t red originally. It was red—”
“From the blood of his enemies.” I lifted one of my feet and massaged the arch. “Yes, TT. I know the story, but—”