Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97409 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97409 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“I’ll text you later to check up on you. Stay hydrated.”
“Yeah.” I open the fridge and grab one of the Gatorades I have in there for this reason. “Will do.”
I take small sips of the drink as the phone pings, telling me I got a text.
Looking down, I see it’s him.
Theo:
Hey, hope breakfast was okay. Is there anything that you want for dinner tonight?
I pull up the text thread, seeing he texted himself and then added himself into my address book as a contact.
Me:
Test.
Theo:
It’s Theo.
I put the phone down and grab the bottle of Gatorade and my pail, not chancing throwing up everywhere, and go back to my room. I take one more sip of the electrolytes before lying back in bed. I turn to the side and look out the window, and before I even have a chance to sigh, I’m sleeping.
Knocking wakes me up. I’m in the exact same position I was when I went to bed. There is no more light coming through the window. I literally slept the whole day. I get up on my elbow and see it’s after eight in the evening. I throw my legs off the bed, and I’m halfway to the door when the knocking starts again. “I’m coming,” I call out, and unlock the door at the same time I turn on the porch light.
“It’s about fucking time,” my father hisses at me, walking right past. “What the fuck were you doing?” He’s wearing a pair of dress pants that have seen better days and a short-sleeved button-down shirt in a light beige that looks more brown with the dirt on it. His chestnut-brown hair is thinning at the top, but pushed to the side.
“Come in, Dad,” I mumble as his beady brown eyes scan the room.
My mother saunters through the door. “Took you long enough,” she snaps. “You look like shit.” She’s wearing a short jean dress that isn’t as white as it used to be, with a baby-pink tank top. Her hair has a half white, half blonde thing going, the roots overgrown. “We’ve been looking for you.”
“Sadly, you found me.” My mother gives me a look of shock that I answered the way I did. I usually keep our conversations to one word. They usually contain the word no.
My father motions with his chin to the fan on the counter, puts his hands on his hips, and looks back at me with a smirk. “Look at her, all fucking fancy with an air-conditioning unit.”
“Can we fast-forward this visit and tell me what the two of you are doing here?” I turn my finger around in a circle, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed.
“We need help,” he says. “We got in on a special project that is going to blow up.”
I close my eyes.
“It’s foolproof.” My mother snatches up the piece of bacon from the stove and takes a bite. “We need about five hundred dollars to buy in.”
“I don’t know why you’re here.”
My mother slams the microwave door shut. She’s warming up the food that Theo made me.
“We got about $250. We just need the rest,” my father says.
“I don’t have it.” I fold my arms over my chest instead of adding, I’m not your personal ATM.
“Don’t lie to me,” he hisses at me. “Don’t think I don’t know how much you make.”
“Yeah, and it pays for”—I’m about to say my house, but stop myself—“my bills. My rent.”
“No one told you to move into a two-bedroom house,” he snaps back at me. “You’re one person, why do you need such a big place?” Ringing comes from my bedroom. “I’ll pay you back.”
“Yeah . . . when? Never?” The phone stops ringing and then starts again.
“You should get that.” My mother checks the drawers until she finds a fork. “Or I can get it while you write the check.”
“I’ll get my own phone.” I walk back to my bedroom as the ringing stops. The back of my neck suddenly tingles when I see the text that comes in.
Theo:
Just ran into your partner, said you called in sick. I’m coming that way. I’ll pick up food.
“No-no-no-no-no,” I chant to myself. I don’t have time to text him back and tell him not to come, and I definitely don’t want to call him when my parents can hear.
“We don’t have all day,” my father barks from the doorway. “I need the money.”
“I don’t have it,” I snap.
His eyes go to the second fan. “You got two?” His eyebrows shoot up. “Someone is living in the lap of luxury.”
“I borrowed them from a friend.” I shut my bedroom door as I return to the kitchen.
“Okay, well, why don’t we take one? I can pawn it, and you can get it back when you go to the bank.”
“No.” My mother has helped herself to a Gatorade and sits down. Digging into the eggs as if I invited her to sit down and eat them. There’s no way they’ll leave before they get what they want. I feel the panic start to run through me. The last thing I want is for Theo to show up now. For my parents to see him and find out about the baby. My plan was to wait until I was showing and then just tell them I was having a baby and didn’t know who the father was. But Theo not taking the hint is making this so much more complicated.