Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Katia: You could’ve gotten both of us into so much trouble, wtf.
Katia: Honestly I feel SO slighted rn. Fu.
Katia: Is someone coming to water your plants? I have too much on my plate right now.
My head is spinning. I want to throw up, but there’s nothing inside my stomach but water and anxiety. And that anxiety? It feels like a mythical creature that devours my inner organs hungrily. Slithering, growing, taking up more space.
The Range Rover glides into downtown, past the hilly golf courses and palm trees dancing in the wind. The surf shops, cafés, and pastel-colored storefronts scream familiarity and comfort. The thin cord where the ocean kisses the sky glitters with promise.
Ruthless motivation stabs at my chest. No. This can’t be the end. This break is going to help me get my big break. I will practice harder and go back to Juilliard better than ever. It’s far from over. In fact, it’s only the beginning. I’m not gonna let Mom down. Or myself. I’ve been wanting to be a ballerina since I learned how to walk, and a little setback isn’t going to kill my career.
“Bails, baby, want an orange?” Dad asks, peering at me from the rearview mirror. Jaime Followhill is the best dad in the world. He is also Captain Random, which I normally adore. It’s fun to be offered fruit out of nowhere or wake up to your dad jumping on your bed, announcing, “Legoland today. Last to make it to the shoe rack is the placeholder in the lines for the rides!”
“I’m good, thanks.” I seize a lock of blond hair from behind my ear and run my fingers through it, looking for fuzzy, damaged hairs to pluck. I don’t deal with imperfections well.
“So I did find something interesting.” Mom is going for chirpy but sounds off-key and panic-stricken. “A wellness center just outside Carlsbad. Gorgeous setting. All luxurious suites. Looks just like the Amangiri. Michelin-starred chefs, massages, yoga, energy-healing. Honestly, I would check in myself if I could take the time off!”
She wants me to go to rehab? Is she high?
“You can’t be serious, Mom.” I press my lips together, keeping my temper at bay. I never lose my cool. Never yell, never talk back, never rebel. My parents and I don’t have arguments. We have mild disagreements. “That so-called ‘overdose’ was a one-off.” I air quote the word.
Rehab is for addicts, not for people who meddle with painkillers and Xanax during super stressful, short times. Not to mention, Juilliard isn’t going to sit around and wait for me while I namaste with desperate housewives who went too hard on their drinking habit.
“You ended up in the ER with your stomach pumped,” Mom retorts.
“Yeah. And they pumped nothing.” I fold my arms. “I took one pill.” Three, but that’s practically semantics. “I’m not a druggie.”
“Don’t mock substance abuse victims, Bails. Druggie isn’t a term we use in this house.” Dad’s voice has a jagged edge. “Sure you don’t want an orange? They’re sweeter than sin.”
“Your daughter has been doing enough sinning for one decade, judging by the last three days,” Mom mumbles, swiveling her body to me. “Look, I don’t know how you ended up with fentanyl in your system, but—”
“You don’t believe that I thought it was Motrin?”
I don’t know why I’m genuinely offended, considering I’ve been popping pillies like I’m a Post Malone song. “The guy who gave it to me said they were a European brand.” That’s my third lie in a row. I need to write them all down somewhere to keep my version straight.
“You still haven’t told us who it was.” Mom’s eyes narrow on mine in the rearview mirror. “He could get someone killed, you know.”
“I don’t know his name!” Fourth lie. Wow, I’m on a Molly-less roll here.
In one of her texts, Katia said Payden skipped town and went to dance on a cruise ship after what happened to me. He probably knew his wrongdoings were about to catch up with him and decided to bail. As long as he doesn’t hurt anyone anymore, it’s none of my business.
“All I’m saying is—” Mom starts.
“This is the first time I’ve ever let you down. Like, ever. My first oopsie—”
“Okay.” Mom slaps her thigh, looking ready to explode. “Let’s not pretend me picking up my nineteen-year-old daughter from a hospital across the country is an oopsie. It’s a travesty. We’re not trivializing what happened this week, missy.”
“Did you limber up before stretching that far? It was a mix-up! I thought it was Motrin.” I throw my hands up in the air. “It’s not like I’m gonna go score heroin on the streets when we get home.”
“Why not?” Mom bites back, and this is different.
Mom never bites back. She coos. She fawns. She giggles happily whenever I breathe in her direction for Pete’s sake. She makes me feel so cherished, it gives me more drive and fuel to stay perfect. “You did it in New York. And please, don’t embarrass yourself with the Motrin excuse. I don’t recognize my daughter in this action. Getting drugs off the streets. Getting drugs at all.”