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)
That damn snitch. He knows Dad from his heyday playing football, so he always overshares with him.
“Bailey’s back,” I grunt.
“So I heard.” He plates each of us a sirloin, salad, and some bread. I’ve already had food at Mel’s, plus the Froyo, but I’m already starving again.
“How’s she handling things?” He eyeballs me from across the table when we take a seat.
To no one’s surprise, the house remained completely untouched after Mom died of cystic fibrosis four years ago.
Not one picture was moved. One wall painted. We even kept the old light bulbs until we started experiencing some next-level paranormal shit. Lights flickering, electricity cuts, stuff exploding; Dad isn’t in denial about Mom dying. He knows she’s dead. He just decided to kill any chance for love or companionship right along with her. A true turtle dove.
I hum into my food in response.
“Got that with words?” He studies me.
“Don’t be greedy.” My utensils clink on the expensive plate. “Next thing, you’ll ask for entire sentences with commas and all that jazz.”
He pins me with a look. I’m being difficult. I’m on edge because of Bails, and I just wish he’d tell me what’s going on with him and Dixie.
If he has someone other than Knight and me…maybe it wouldn’t feel like a betrayal to apply to the Air Force Academy before the cutoff date.
The clock is ticking. I don’t have much time left. It makes me uncomfortable that Dad’s entire hopes and dreams are around the idea of me becoming an NFL player.
“She seems tired but fine,” I relent.
“Keep an eye on her.”
“Plan to.”
“Addiction is a tough motherfucker.”
“She says she’s not an addict.” I chew a juicy piece of steak, deep in thought.
“I said that too.” He sighs. “And so did Knight.”
“Thanks, Dad, for reminding me literally every single person I give a crap about tried to off themselves at some point.”
Guess it’s my destiny to love people who play Russian roulette with their lives.
Thanks a fucking bunch, Karma. Wrong address by the way.
I stuff my mouth with a bread roll, chewing slowly.
“Change of subject?” He elevates an eyebrow.
“That’s a good idea.”
“You got a pamphlet in the mail today. The Air Force Academy.” He rolls his eyes like I was asked to join a Satanic cult.
My heart picks up speed. He has no clue, does he? That’s how little he knows me. “If you ask me, it’s outrageous that they still send this propaganda to every high schooler who’s about to graduate.” He spears some meat with his fork, pointing it at me before taking a bite. “I like my kid alive and in one piece.”
It’s not all about you, Dad.
The Air Force Academy sent that pamphlet because I filled out an interest form.
Now I’ll have to dig through the trash to find it. I’m equally terrified and excited. I want to read it. Even if nothing is going to come out of it.
“Everyone wants their kid in one piece. Check your privilege, Dad.”
“When you’re right, you’re right.”
There is silence.
There never used to be silence. But then I built an advanced flight simulator in the attic, complete with a cockpit, TPR pedals, and curved monitor and spent five hours a day in it max, and he and Knight started getting suspicious. When I began volunteering at the local private airport and got connected to their ATC, they really lost their shit. They knew I was serious about becoming a fighter pilot.
Dad ignores the tension. “Next Friday is gonna be a tough one. St. John Bosco has an excellent track record. You nervous?”
“Last time we played them, their coach lit into their quarterback and had the backup warmed up before we even broke a sweat.” I shrug.
If Dad took a second to get his head out of his ass, he’d see that I don’t find football interesting or enjoyable. Last time I watched the Super Bowl, I was, like, twelve. “You gonna eat that bread roll?” I jerk my chin toward his plate. I don’t even know why I’m asking. I lost all appetite.
He shakes his head. “Knock yourself out.”
We eat the rest of our meal with Dad dishing out football statistics and giving me pointers for the approaching game.
When we’re done, I wash the dishes, fish the pamphlet out of the trash can, and go to my room and look over the street at Bailey’s window.
The lights are turned off. Just like her eyes were today. Still, I push my window up and yell to her, “How’s the sky looking tonight, Dove?”
She doesn’t answer.
Fuck her.
CHAPTER 5
Lev
Age fourteen
“We should probably head back.” The words come out of my mouth finally, after Bailey and I have been in these woods for what feels like centuries.
We buried Mom today. Then ran here and went to war against nature. We’re both bleeding and exhausted and confused.