Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 104151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
We shared sideways glances.
“What about your volunteer loitering?”
I coughed a laugh. “My Grandma Bonnie is in the nursing home. They moved her there last year after my grandpa died. She’s cool. I can tell her anything, so I keep her company way more than my mom, her own daughter. And I’m done with work in time to visit Grandma Bonnie and still be home by four.”
“I’ll talk to your parents about it.”
“Dude! I’m eighteen. Once again, how would you like it if, when you applied for your teaching job, they wanted to talk to your parents first?”
Kyle chuckled as we trekked up the small hill. “Do you have any speeding tickets? Arrests? Recent groundings?”
“Shut up.” I laughed.
“What about food prep? Can you make him a meal?”
“Are you serious? I made him homemade applesauce. I’m an extraordinary baker. And I have a long list of meals I can cook better than my mom. My grandma taught me everything she knows.” I stopped at the orchard and grabbed an apple, plucking it from its stem.
“That will cost you,” he said.
I smirked, wiping it with my shirt before taking a big bite.
Kyle reached for an apple and followed my lead. “Oh”—his face soured—“that is tart. How can you eat it plain like this?”
“My grandma says the sweetest people can eat the tartest apples. My grandpa never could eat them; she said it was because he was a grump. I guess we know what this says about you.”
“That I have normal tastebuds?” He spat out the apple and chucked the rest of it behind us like a baseball.
“Josh loved my applesauce. Granted, I put a little cinnamon and sugar on it, but it was still tart, and he gobbled it up because he’s so sweet.”
“Respectfully,” Kyle said, “your grandma’s theory is flawed.”
I moseyed toward the fence, savoring every bite of the apple. Then I held it with my teeth and climbed the wood rails, straddling the top one. “Nothing about my grandma is flawed.”
His eyes widened as I ate the entire apple core.
“Why all the guns? Do you hunt?”
Kyle rested his arms on the rail in front of me. “Yes. But I like bow hunting best.”
“What about fishing? I like to fish.”
He nodded. “I have a fishing boat in the barn. Josh loves fishing.”
“I asked Josh where you lived before you moved here, but he just said you lived in a house.”
Kyle laughed. “He’s not wrong. We lived in Crested Butte, Colorado.”
“Why did you move?”
He gazed at my house. “We needed a change, but I still wanted to live in a small town, so when my brother suggested Devil’s Head, and there happened to be a job opening at the school, I figured why not try here.”
I nodded, but I was out of questions that didn’t involve quizzing him on the whereabouts and circumstances surrounding Josh’s mom. Yet, I wasn’t ready to go inside and call it a night.
“I don’t know if you bring your lunch to school, but the only decent meal they serve is chicken noodle soup with cinnamon rolls. Stay away from shrimp shapes. I don’t think they contain actual shrimp. And don’t be fooled by the beef burger. It’s a rubbery patty with a funky taste. Everything else is just a version of hot dogs. The fruit is canned in heavy syrup, the cookies are concrete, and the milk is sour. But sometimes they have chocolate milk, and it’s acceptable.”
Kyle eyed me, trying to restrain his grin. He was so handsome. I couldn’t believe he was my neighbor. I never wanted him to move.
“Thanks for the tip,” he said.
“Oh, also, don’t shake hands with Mr. Dillinger.”
“The principal?” He squinted.
“Yes. He picks his nose all the time.”
Kyle cringed.
When crickets were the only ones talking, I hopped off the fence. “I’m glad you moved into the Tallmans’ house. We haven’t had good neighbors in a while.”
“What was wrong with the Tallmans?”
“They fought all the time. We could hear them from our house. Mr. Tallman threatened to cut off my hands if I took his apples. And they had a mean dog who chased me up a tree on more than one occasion.”
Kyle chuckled. “So the bar for being a good neighbor has been set low.”
“The lowest.”
“I’ll take that as a backhanded compliment.”
I smirked while walking away. “You can take it however your pretty little head wants.”
“Touché, Eve. Good night.”
I waited until I felt certain he was on his way home, then I peered over my shoulder. But he wasn’t walking home; he was still at the fence, watching me. When I slowed my stride, he grinned, shook his head, and turned to head home.
I was obsessed.
CHAPTER FIVE
PRETENDERS, “DON’T GET ME WRONG”
Eve
Freedom wasn’t a strong enough word, but it was close enough.
The grounding ended. They returned the phone to my room. And I was permitted to hang out at the creek with the promise or threat that one of my parents might check up on me unannounced.