Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Ace
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Julia’s dad yells, the volume well outdoing the music and bringing everyone else up silent. I cover Julia’s ears with my hands as a makeshift pair of those protective mitts, but she moves them away, fear that she’ll miss something being said. “Seriously, Thatch. You need a diagnosis! That’s a fucking crocodile!”
“Fluff yeah, son. I picked it out special, just for you,” my dad booms. “But why are you screaming, Special K? Maybe you should lower your voice.”
“Why am I screaming?” Kline Brooks keeps shouting. A prominent vein is now bulging from the center of his forehead. “Because you brought a fucking crocodile to my house!”
“His name is Crocky,” my dad corrects him. “And he’s a little sweetie pie. A little snappy at times, but sweet.”
“Sweet?” Kline questions in outrage. “He’s sweet? He’s a reptile with fucking teeth, Thatch! Pretty sure he almost bit Nathan!”
“At least he’s not a sex offender,” Evie whispers into the small void.
Julia gasps in front of me before whispering, “Oh, Evie. Nooo.”
“What?” Kline asks, his head whipping around lightning-fast. “What did you just say?”
“Don’t, don’t, don’t,” Julia whispers.
But Evie is undeterred. One hand to her hip, she keeps going despite her father’s pulsating forehead vein and wide eyes. “I said at least he’s not a sex offender,” Evie repeats, this time at full volume.
Oh boy. Is it just me or is this going somewhere ugly fast?
I suck my lips into my mouth before releasing them on a whistle and wrapping my arms around Julia to protect her from whatever shrapnel is about to fly our way.
“What in the hell are you talking about, Evie?” Kline is clearly confused but still very, very mad. “A sex offender?”
“Yes!” she yells back at her dad, her path officially set. “Heather Donovan found all your old messages on TapNext and has been posting on the internet about you sending unsolicited dick pictures, Dad!”
My jaw drops.
Julia gasps again.
“Oh shit,” my dad mutters under his breath, and I know with sudden clarity that whatever dick-pic bullshit Evie is currently talking about is something my father hatched in his terrible idea factory years ago. It’s probably why he’s now pretending to be incredibly interested in the crocodile, even choosing right now to try to feed Crocky a fucking carrot that he picked up off the floor. Crocky hisses and chomps loud enough to startle everyone in the room, and my dad just shrugs. “I feel ya, Crocky. I’m more of a meat guy myself too.”
And Kline, well, he’s still standing there with a face that looks combustible enough to power the whole fucking city.
“She started a website with it all to discredit my run for student body president!” Evie exclaims, now in her own version of outrage. “Dad, your dick pics are ruining my reelection chances!”
“Evie,” Georgia says softly, cautiously. “Let’s everyone calm down and take a breath.”
But Kline is done.
“I’m all out of fucking breaths, Georgia,” he shouts so loudly, even Crocky appears to cower in his box. “You wanna know what that is, Evie? That’s good old Thatcher Kelly. When there’s a problem in my life, it’s always fucking Thatcher Kelly.” Clearly, the man is fed up to the point of overflow from years and years and years of torment at the hands of my father, well-meaning as he might be.
“Hey now, Special K,” my dad chimes in. “I only sent that one batch of gargoyle dick pics, and if you’ll recall, I thought they were going to my future wife. And let’s not forget they’re technically the reason you’re even with Georgie. Clearly, they made you a standout. You should be thanking me.”
“Thanking you?” Kline repeats, and I swear, if his eyes bulge any farther out of his head, they’re just going to pop right out and land by the discarded carrots Crocky knocked off the table. “I know you’re completely delusional ninety-nine percent of the time, but let me straighten this up for you, Thatch. Your gargoyle dicks did not help me land my wife,” Kline says through gritted teeth. “I landed her all on my own.”
My dad laughs. He just fucking laughs. “Oh my, how the memory fades, K. But that’s okay, you are really fucking old.”
All our heads swing from one end of the kitchen to the other as the two of them volley back and forth, hurling insult after insult. The tension is so thick, we nearly all get sucked out the front door when it opens for Finn, Scottie, and Kayla’s arrival.
“Sorry, we’re late,” Scottie announces good-naturedly. “Traffic was murder.”
I turn to face them and shake my head, and Julia reaches back to squeeze my hand.
“Whatever, Thatch. I’m old. And boring. And I’m not fucking crockin’,” Kline says as he rolls up a sleeve aggressively. “This party is over. And you’re taking this fucking reptile home with you, and you’re doing it right now because I want you to get out of my house.”