Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
A chorus of awwws went around the room, and hot-ass Allie patted the desk next to her. “That’s so sweet. Come sit here, and I’ll show you how to do it.”
Maybe this wasn’t a bad idea after all. I started to walk toward her, momentarily forgetting the reason I’d stuck around, when my eyes met Bailey’s. I looked between the two girls before responding to Allie. “Thanks. But I think I’m going to sit over there.”
Bailey’s eyes widened as I made my way over. But by the time I sat down, the look on her face I’d thought was happy had turned to something else—something pretty pissed off. “What are you doing?” she hissed.
I plopped down into the seat next to her. “Apparently making a stupid bracelet.”
She lifted her chin to the gaggle of girls. “Why aren’t you sitting with them?”
“Why can’t I sit here? Do you got the cooties or something?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You know, don’t you?”
“Know what?”
“That I don’t have alopecia.”
“You don’t?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re not a very good liar.”
“What does it matter if I know or not?”
“Because I don’t want your sympathy.”
“Who said anything about me giving you sympathy?”
“That’s why you’re sitting here instead of with the hot girl who was batting her eyelashes at you, isn’t it?”
“No.” I responded waay too fast.
Bailey pursed her lips. “Okay, then why are you sitting with me?”
I tried to come up with a reason—any reason—but drew a complete blank, at least until my eyes found her violin case. “I was hoping if I was nice to you, you might give me violin lessons.”
“You play violin?”
“Well, not yet, but I’ve always wanted to.”
Her already narrowed eyes squinted to slits as she assessed my level of bullshit. “So you’re not giving me pity friendship, you’re using me?”
It sounded like a trick question, but I figured she’d rather the latter. I smiled wide to try to sell that I was an asshole. It wasn’t that hard, since I usually was. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Bailey took a minute to digest my response, but eventually she grinned. “Okay, but we’re making friendship bracelets in here, and you can’t wear your own because that’s bad luck, so we’re going to exchange, and you have to wear what I make you every day if you want me to give you lessons.”
I didn’t understand the current craze of wearing a million bracelets and trading with your friends, but even Ben wore a few, so it wasn’t a big deal. I shrugged. “Whatever it takes.”
For the next forty minutes, I strung a bunch of beads onto clear string. The plastic box Mrs. Kline gave out had letters and beads of all different shapes and colors. A lot of the girls in school wore bracelets that spelled out what their friends thought was their best quality—like the girl who sat next to me in English wore one every day that said keeps secrets. And Becca Norris wore a hot pink one that read smiley. Bailey was just going to get her name spelled out, and she would be lucky if I didn’t screw that up. I used a lot of blue because I’d noticed she wore that color every day last week. When the bell rang at the end of class, I was just knotting the ends of the bracelet.
Bailey stood and hoisted her backpack to her shoulder.
“I have a doctor’s appointment after school. So I can do it about six, if that works for you?”
“Do it?”
She arched a brow. “Did you forget already? I’m giving you violin lessons.”
“Oh. No. Yeah, six is good. I have football practice until four thirty anyway.”
“Meet me in the doghouse in my yard. The address is 210 Oak.”
“The what?”
“My dog has a big house in the yard. It’s the only place I can go where my mom doesn’t hover around me. I journal out there sometimes in the afternoons. The fence doesn’t lock. Just come around back.”
“Is the dog going to bite me?”
She held out her hand with the bracelet she made dangling. “No, Moose is afraid of his own shadow. You ready to swap?”
“I’m not sure if I knotted mine right, so you might want to check. Otherwise, you may wind up with beads all over the floor in your next class.” We exchanged, and Bailey headed for the door. “Don’t forget our deal!” she yelled without looking back. “You have to wear it.”
That sounded like more of a challenge than a reminder, like maybe she assumed I thought I was too cool to wear a friendship bracelet or something. Nevertheless, I grabbed my backpack and rolled the elastic over my hand and onto my wrist as I walked out the door.
Looking down at it might’ve been the first time I realized Bailey Anderson and I were going to be real friends. Because my bracelet didn’t have my name. Instead, it listed my best quality. Asshole.