Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
I should wait for her to start eating, but my stomach growls loudly, giving away my hunger. Everything from the cafeteria is prepackaged since nearly all the staff went home for break. I have had nothing that wasn’t in plastic wrap for over two days.
We open our containers at the same time and burst into laughter. I let out a groan after I shove the first forkful into my mouth. It’s been forever since I had chicken fried rice.
“This is so good.” I groan, shoving another forkful into my mouth.
Brittney nods as she does the same. “I love cooking. It’s the one thing I hate about being here. I only have a small studio kitchen, and I have to put in a list for groceries a few weeks in advance since we’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“It’s a good thing I don’t live with you. I don’t think I’d ever starve.”
“No, you would not. I don’t know how to cook for one person. I’m always making enough to feed an entire army.”
She isn’t lying. More often than not, she gives me leftovers, and they’re just as good as they were fresh, I’m sure of it.
Once my belly is mostly full and no longer growling, I slow and start shoving the remaining rice around on my plate. Sadness rams into me like a ton of bricks, and I frown, staring down at my plate.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing… I’m just… tired.”
Of being alone, of being here.
There are so many things that I could finish that sentence with, but I press my lips together instead of confessing them out loud. I love Brittney, but I don’t want to be the friend that bogs her down with my problems.
“Is it Quinton?” she implores.
The mere mention of his name makes me shiver. It was pure luck that I escaped running into him before he left. Now I kind of regret it since my stupid heart misses him and all his violent tendencies.
“No, it’s not him.”
“You can tell me if it is. I won’t judge you.”
I give her a half-smile. “I know you won’t, but really, it’s not him.” I pause before deciding to continue. “It’s lots of things, but mainly, it’s being here alone during the holidays. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve loved the holidays. Putting up the tree, making cookies, and spending time with loved ones. It was such a joy. Now…” I gesture to the room. “I’m here while my mother is God knows where and my father is in prison.” I’m being such a downer. “I’m sorry. I sound pathetic, don’t I?”
Brittney smiles. “No, not at all. I think it’s normal to feel what you’re feeling, but I don’t want you to think you’re alone here.”
“How could I ever be alone when I have such an amazing friend like you?”
“See, we have each other. I’m here, and we’re stuck together. Two frozen peas in a pod.”
“Frozen is right.”
Brittney glances at her watch. “Ugh, I hate cutting this short, but I need to get back to the library. Lucas has been on my case about encouraging students to come to the library, so I’ve been putting more effort into hanging flyers and creating study groups for students.”
“I can come help if you want.”
She shakes her head. “No, enjoy your break. Relax. I will come and hang out soon.”
Brittney leaves, and suddenly, I feel colder. Like I’ll never warm up. I grab a sweater and pull it on, shivering.
If only this place had more windows. I’m reminded of the sunroom then and shove off my bed, walking to the door. I shouldn’t have a problem with the space being crowded, not with everyone gone. I take the elevator up to the sunroom.
As soon as I step into the space, I’m engulfed with warmth. It’s like being hugged by your grandma or mom. I walk toward a sitting bench and spot Anja sitting on a nearby bench.
Neither of us says anything as our gazes collide. Awkward. I sit on the bench and ignore the nagging thoughts at the back of my mind. The more I wonder why my mom ignores me and refuses to acknowledge my existence, the angrier I’m going to get, and there’s nothing I can do here to expel that anger.
A few minutes pass, and just as I’m getting comfortable with the silence around us, Anja clears her throat and gets up from the bench. I watch her out of the corner of my eye. She walks toward me, her boot-covered feet slapping against the concrete.
Stopping in front of me, I can feel her eyes on me. I swallow, my saliva thick. I pretend like she’s not standing there and continue staring straight ahead, enjoying the warmth of the sun.
Her voice slices through me. “I guess this is how you always feel, right?” I don’t reply right away, and she takes my silence for conversation and takes the empty seat beside me. Great.