Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
“You two!” Nova shouts. “We need to head out!”
Rocky releases my hand. “Our chariot awaits.” He forces a dry smile.
I try to ignore the flip of my stomach. Neither of us rushes back to the car. We linger. We’re always loitering around each other, stealing seconds. Minutes.
“Are you the princess or the fairy godmother?” I ask.
“Always the princess,” he says with more bitterness. Most would be okay with being royalty and not the actual pumpkin or a mouse, but Rocky wants to wave the wand and not be at its mercy.
Fairy godmothers aren’t evil.
I’m perfectly fine in the role I’ve been granted. It’s what I’m good at. What I excel in. Stick to the plan.
Sixteen
Rocky
NOW
At the two-person glass kitchen table, Hailey scribbles on a notepad. Tucking blonde hair behind each ear, she scratches out numbers and writes new ones in a frenzy.
I play a puzzle game on my cell from the beige couch. Keeping an eye on my sister and an eye on connecting three cherries isn’t too hard. Should I be looking for another place to stay? Sure. Jake’s weak threat about making sure I’m moved out of here by the end of the week hangs over my head like a limp piñata.
I’ll deal with that later. Right now, it’s hard to ignore the large exhales and huffs coming from my sister.
When I focus back on my phone, the timer has run out on the game. FAILED flashes across the screen. Great. Just what I love to see.
Pocketing my cell in my black leather jacket, I head to the kitchen. “Hails . . .”
She pins an elbow on the notepad, trying to be casual about hiding it from me. “Yeah?” She tilts her head, an attempt to appear all innocent and shit. She’s wearing a black baseball hat with red embroidery that says, satan’s lil helper.
“What’s wrong?” I eye the notepad.
She quickly unburies it from her elbow and flips it over. “Nothing.”
“You should be thankful Mom and Dad aren’t here to see how bad you are at lying.” I tsk dramatically. “They’d be so disappointed.”
Hailey studies me and my unpleasant tone. “One would think you’d be better at hiding your hatred toward them.”
“Do I need to hide it from you?” I question.
She shakes her head, and I sink into the vacant seat across from her. Stuffing my hands in my leather jacket, I slouch against the chair.
Hailey keeps her arms folded over the notepad. Her nose piercing glints in the light. “You should be happy that we’re here, away from them, and that I don’t need to be good at lying anymore.”
Happy?
My face twitches into a grimace. “Happy.” I try to remember real happiness. Not something fabricated, not anything warped.
The word is thick and heavy in my mind. Infused with tar and toxins. I’ve had happy childhood memories, but so many are twisted into stark reality now. Ones where I played soccer at a Manhattan prep school. I made a friend and laughed at his house over chicken parm and ice cream. Just to realize later in life that I was a tool used to screw over his father. A stepping-stone for my parents.
I was stepped on.
Repeatedly.
I was so happy.
Pain flares inside my chest, and I look at Hailey. “I’m fucking thrilled they’re not around. I’d be happier if they were dead—”
“Rocky,” she hisses.
“They can’t hear us.”
Her cheeks redden. “I wasn’t scared they would.” Her eyes fall to her notepad. “You shouldn’t talk about Mom and Dad like that. They taught us everything we know.”
God, I wish my sister could see what I see. Why am I stuck here alone? Is my vantage that fucking distorted from everyone else’s?
I stare at her black chipped nail polish. In most cases, she would’ve always needed a fresh manicure in the past. “You just said you don’t need to lie anymore, Hails. So what use do you have for what they taught us?”
Hailey is quiet again. “I don’t want to con anyone anymore.” The conviction in her voice startles me. “They taught us we have the power to do anything and be anyone, and we can make anything work, Rocky. I have to make this work.”
“Why?”
Why is she so adamant?
Hailey says nothing.
I roll my eyes, frustrated, and I end up asking, “What about our parents? You think you’ll be okay with never seeing them again? Because I don’t think they’ll ever let you go.”
“I don’t either,” Hailey agrees. “But they’ll have to get used to Phoebe and me living two very normal and moral lives.”
I’d say she’s dreaming, but fear tightens her collarbone and elongates her neck.
My jaw clenches. “You are scared.”
“I know it might be . . . hard for them to accept this if they find us.” She chooses her words carefully but doesn’t mask her anxiety. “And that if might be more probable as a when.”