Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 54383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
“Thank you, Pastor Barbara.” I smile. “Any more sermons you care to share with me?”
She narrows her eyes as Tully steps into the kitchen.
“Hey.” She smiles. “Hope you aren't mad that I stopped by. I was just in the neighborhood.”
“He's your boyfriend, Tully.” Barbara moves over to the coffee maker. “You should be able to show up and see him anytime that you want.”
Tully hugs me and hands me a muffin. “I made that this morning.”
“You mean you bought that.”
“Okay, fine.” She laughs. “I warmed it in the oven. That still counts. Anyway, um…I didn’t mean what I said to you last night.”
I raise my eyebrow. I’ve forgotten that we even spoke.
“I told you to leave if you weren’t going to sleep with me,” she says. “That we were over if you didn’t finally prove that you wanted me in that way.”
“Tully…”
“I can respect it,” she says, swallowing. “I’m not used to a guy treating me like anything other than arm candy or a pretty face…It’s different, and I’ve been doing some reading, and apparently if a guy really respects you, he doesn’t necessarily have to have sex with you…Especially if he really likes you.”
“We really need to talk about something, Tully.” I can’t take this shit too much longer.
Barbara shakes her head, glaring at my direction, but she doesn’t say a word.
“No one stayed to help, not even Scarlett,” she says. “So um, if you’re not doing anything, would you mind riding back with me to help?”
“Sure.”
17
ME
Dear Greg Walters,
I was honestly flattered that you asked me to the winter formal, and I’m sorry that I turned you down by saying, “I’m going alone.” Truth is, I was in love with someone else and I wanted to go with him…Looking back, I should’ve considered your offer.
Wish I Would’ve Told You,
—Scarlett
Kevin
Where the hell are you?
Please don’t tell me you’re making me do a Sad Sunday night/toxic Tully party recap by myself?
I’m so sorry. I forgot.
I’ll make it up to you next week. Promise.
Kevin
Hmmm. Okay. I’ll hold you to that. I want ALL the tea!
PART 3
THE TRUTH IS OVERRATED
Question:
If the love of your life confessed to murdering someone years ago, what would you do?
A) Act like you have no idea what they’re talking about. Vow to never bring it up again.
B) Call the police and reveal what you know.
C) End the relationship, but vow to keep their secret for the rest of your life.
Answer:
None of these.
If you’re in love with a murderer, you’re fucked.
18
ME
Dear Travis Jones,
I keyed your car because you made my sister cut herself all summer during her sophomore year. She may not be my best friend, but she didn’t deserve the way you treated her.
Wish I Would’ve Told You,
Scarlett
On Monday morning, my fingers tremble as I stare at a bright blue envelope.
“Are you planning to open it, Miss Crane?” My band director, Mr. Jones, smiles at me.
“No, I’m waiting to wake up in reality.”
He laughs. “You’re in the real world right now, Miss Crane. I promise.”
I continue staring at the envelope.
The return address bears the logo from the London Music Program. It’s been my dream to play there since I was a little girl, since my first private tutor wooed me with stories and albums of her time abroad.
“You have to open it at some point.” Mr. Jones laughs. “Whenever you get around to doing that, come and tell me your thoughts, okay?”
“Okay.” He walks away and I run my fingers along the edges before tearing the envelope open.
After unfolding the paper, I blink a few times to make sure my eyes aren’t playing a trick on me.
Dear Miss Scarlett Crane,
We wish you’d applied to our program sooner, but we’re honored to accept someone of your caliber into our esteemed summer program.
We’d be further honored if you considered joining us for a special six month program that will run through the spring and end before most college fall semesters begin.
Please respond promptly to this letter.
The London Music Program
Going to London would mean missing prom, graduation, and…Easton.
I tuck it into my backpack and head to the cafeteria.
Kevin pushes my shoulder as he walks by. Then he sits on the far side of the room.
Confused, I follow him and set down my tray.
He immediately stands up and leaves.
What’s wrong with him?
Leaving my food, I follow him again. He moves faster and slips into the indoor pool facility.
Once I step inside, he grabs my hand and then pushes me against the wall.
“What the hell is going on with you, Kevin?” I notice the cold look in his eyes. “You’re starting to worry me.”
“I saw you this weekend.”
“I saw you, too,” I say. “We hung out at the party.”
“I saw you damn near fucking Easton Rush outside.” He hisses. “Easton. Rush. Your sister’s boyfriend and you haven’t said shit about it to me.”
“I…” I swallow. “We were just drunk.”