Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 40403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter 1
Mila
September, 2005
“Hey Mila, are you good with the new twist?” I turn and smile at Carly holding up my thumbs.
“It's great. I love how it spins towards the end.” My neck is sweating bullets and my ponytail swinging on the back of my neck is not helping. I reach into my bag and pull out my towel and wipe my head.
“Hey Mila looking good out there.” Coach yells from her office while I walk through the locker room. This is the best part of my day, cheerleading practice. This is the part of the day I know I am good at. I was built for this. This is where I get to be myself; enthusiastic, active and a mess. But now, with practice over I am heading to my least favorite part of my day. Home.
My family comes from the wealthy part of town. My father is a real estate developer and banker or something and has made a name for himself in this little town of Norwich, Vermont. Lincoln Pruitt carries a lot of weight and not always the good kind.
My mom is the opposite of him. Don’t get me wrong she loves the money and prestige and the wagging tongues, but she also doesn’t want to have to lift a finger to get it. To her, a self proclaimed southern belle, all she needs to do is look pretty and tell the maid where to pour the champagne. Yeah she is that type of woman.
I often sit in my room, staring out of the window at the world from high on the hill wondering what it is like for those not bound by social rules. How much fun do they have? It's ironic really because I am sure they wonder the same about us, those more fortunate. Well I would tell them it is lonely on top and filled with stress and falsehoods. I never know who really likes me or who likes me because of my family.
“Shoot.” I look at my watch and realize I am running a little late. My mom freaks out, texting and sending out police cruisers if I am not home by seven thirty on the dot. She seems to think that not living in Georgia where she grew up means there is a higher degree of likelihood I will be kidnapped and trafficked or used for ransom. Did I mention she is a complete drama queen?