Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
"Hi Mr. Mitchell," she says, happily, meeting my eyes. "Yes, I got here safely. I’m with Dawn right now. She’s busy flipping pancakes."
For the few seconds she’s talking to Dad without a care in the world, my chest caves in. My breath is trapped in my lungs, and my hand forms a claw around the utensil.
"Thanks. Yes. It’s going to be awesome. At least it will be once I get over my jetlag…I’ll pass you over."
She holds out my phone to me and I stare at it like it’s a vial of deadly disease. I stare because I don’t know what to do. I can’t face Dad. Not now. Not when I don’t know what to say. Not when anything I do say will only make him mad.
I don’t want to face his questions surrounded by these men. I don’t want them to see me vulnerable and upset. Our relationship is all about fun. Seizing the day. Taking the chance to live our best life.
Not facing up to our greatest fears. Not arguing with our one surviving parent. Not being an awful selfish person.
I drop the turner and it clatters when it falls.
I don’t realize I’m running until I’m halfway to my room and everyone has stopped talking.
Tears stream down my cheeks and I fumble to open the lock so I can hide away and deal with this embarrassing breakdown.
I slump onto my bed and cry harder than I have in a long time.
24
JARED
As Dawn runs away, Kyla immediately pushes back her chair to make after her. Before she can fully rise, I grab hold of her arm.
"Kyla, what’s going on?"
Her hands fly to her mouth as though she’s suddenly realized something or recalled a previously forgotten piece of information. "Nothing. I just…" she stutters, staring at me and then after Dawn as though she has no idea what to do or who she should be speaking to.
"What’s going on with Dawn? Who was that on the phone?"
"I can’t…" she starts, staring at my hand where it’s still gripping her arm. I let go, even though I don’t want her to leave yet. This feels like a pivotal moment where we could find out whatever it is that’s making Dawn live each day as though it’s her last.
"You can," I say. "If you know something, you should tell us, for Dawn. She’s hiding something. We know that much. We care about her, and we’re worried about her. We can’t be there for her if we don’t know what’s happening in her life."
"You care about her?" Kyla slumps back into her seat, rubbing her hands over her weary stressed face.
"We care about her. We want what you have. We want that with Dawn, but she’s running from something. She pastes on a smile to cover her true feelings because there’s something going on," I continue.
Kyla scans the expressions of the rest of my friends, as though she wants to check I'm really speaking for them all. Whatever she finds on their faces must be enough.
"It was the anniversary of Dawn’s mom’s death a few days ago," she says softly, worrying at a hangnail on the side of her ring finger. Her dad called…she promised him that she would do something…she hasn’t done it. I shouldn’t have picked up the phone."
"What did she promise to do?" I ask, not interested in the politics of whether picking up someone else’s phone is right or wrong.
"I can’t tell you that," she says softly. Her eyes seem to implore me not to ask more, but I’m persistent when I want to be.
"You can tell us," I say. "You need to tell us."
"If Dawn wanted you to know…if she trusted you to share…she would have told you everything. I can’t make that decision for her. Not about something like this."
"Please," I say, knowing I’m losing the battle but needing to try everything before I give up.
"I can’t." She blinks her soft brown eyes at me, folding in her lips apologetically, effectively ending our conversation.
"You should go after her," I say eventually, wanting Dawn to have the support of her friend if she can’t have our support. I grip the arm of my chair, frustration bubbling through me. Dawn won’t tell us. Kyla won’t tell us. Dawn is slipping through our fingers, and we can’t do a thing about it.
When Kyla is out of earshot, I lock eyes with my twin. Joshua’s face is as grim as mine. "She’s running from something," he says.
"Something to do with her dad."
Logan looks thoughtful, gnawing on his bottom lip. "All you guys should understand the need to get away," he says. "Isn’t that why you all ended up here? None of you planned to stay in Byron. You were all just passing through. Even I ended up joining with you guys to open this place because I needed to move out of home. We should all understand the desire for a fresh start. We might want Dawn to be a part of our group, but it has to be what she wants, not just because she’s trying to escape from her real life."