Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“That’s nice.”
“And when we get home, we’re going to have a big surprise for you. So you’d better be on your best behavior. I don’t want anything to ruin this.”
“Nothing will.”
“You’d better hope not. That Bridget is nice, and I’m sure she does a good job, but you know I expect you to keep an eye on your sister. Make sure she isn’t running around like a wild animal when we get back. I want her freshly washed and dressed in clean clothes and on her best behavior. Understood? And as for you, no sulking around, no arguments with your brother.”
I don’t have the energy to deal with this. I can barely muster up the strength to say anything. “Mm-hmm.”
“And you better hope I don’t get another call from school. Whatever this is, it better be a twenty-four-hour bug. The last thing I need is for them to tell me you have to repeat a year. You know your stepfather isn’t going to pay for your second senior year. You’re lucky he insisted on paying for this one. And now I’m late for my massage. You always find a way to ruin my plans.”
She finally stops to take a breath, and not a second too soon because I can’t take any more of this. My head’s already pounding. So, I end the call, punching the red button to disconnect us. I then leave the phone face down on the nightstand and roll over, turning my back on it.
I doubt she’ll call again. It would ruin her plans. I already ruined all her plans by being born. I wonder if they had Plan B back in the day. Would she have taken it? I might not have been born.
Right now, with the way I’m feeling, that doesn’t seem like such a bad thing. I’ve never been sick like this. Am I having a bad reaction? What would I even do if I was? Go to the hospital? Right. And they would ask why, and if I had any medication in my system. I would have to say yes. And then what? I don’t even want to think about it. All I can do is close my eyes and hope I feel better by the time I wake up again.
“Here. Take this.” There’s a hand under my head, lifting it off my pillow.
“Hm?” I try to turn my face to the side. “No. Leave me alone.” My voice is weak, and even that much is enough to exhaust me.
“It’s just aspirin.”
I can’t even open my eyes. I’m so drained. Probably dehydrated, too. My head is splitting open worse than earlier.
“Here’s some water.” I try again to turn my head away, since I haven’t been able to hold water down since last night, but the bottle follows my mouth. “Just take a few sips to wash down the pills. It’ll be okay.”
I’m too tired to fight. I open my mouth and allow some of the cool water inside to wash down the aspirin. The water feels good in my mouth, going down my parched throat.
“There you go.” My head rests against the pillow again, and all I can do is groan in misery. “I know you’re hurting. Just relax.”
The voice is barely a whisper. Bridget? Maybe.
“Here you go.” I wince when something cold touches my forehead, but once the shock wears off, it feels good. Very good. Some of the throbbing eases, too. I try to open my eyes again, but it’s like they’re glued shut.
“Try to get some sleep.” A hand strokes my hair, then it adjusts my blankets until they’re pulled up around my shoulders. “There’s a sports drink on the nightstand to help rehydrate you. Try to drink that if you can. It’ll make you feel better a lot faster.”
“Thank you,” I rasp. Even my lips are dry.
“It’s nothing.” One more stroke of my hair, and the hand is gone, along with the person it’s attached to.
If I were completely naive, I would think it was my mother treating me this way. The mother I always wanted. When I was little, I used to think it was my fault she was never nice to me. I know better now, just like I know better than to think she would come home early in case there was something seriously wrong.
It’s easier to be asleep than it is to be awake, so I don’t bother trying to fight it off when it tugs at me again. The last thing I process is the faint smell of chlorine before I sink back into darkness.
29
I’m surprised Theo’s parents let him have a party here so soon after the last one ended with the police showing up.
Salem only laughs at my worries as we walk up the brick path from where she parked. “Please, that was nothing. I’m sure his dad gave them some money or donated to a cop charity or something. No biggie.”