Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 86199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
As soon as we enter the arena, I glance around, searching for my parents. Mom pops to her feet and waves erratically. The people surrounding her swivel in her direction and stare. Somehow, they managed to secure amazing seats right up against the plexiglass.
“Oh good, there’s Becks,” Holland mutters. “I’ve missed her. What’s it been? Seventy-two hours since she stopped by our place to do a deep clean?”
I shake my head at the nickname. “You know she hates when you call her that, right?’
She flashes a grin. “Why do you think I do it?”
Even though I shake my head, I can’t help but be amused by my bestie. She does and says things that I would never dream of.
It would be difficult not to admire her spunk.
I return the wave, hoping Mom will settle down.
“Think she got here early and sanitized our entire section?”
“Probably.”
It would be amusing if it weren’t true.
My mother has always been nervous by nature. My diagnosis in high school only amplified those tendencies.
Once we make our way to the seats, Dad rises to his feet and pulls me in for a warm embrace. He’s way more chill than Mom. After a handful of seconds, she elbows him out of the way to do the same. Her grip borders on bone crushing. When the embrace stretches a few seconds too long, I pat her back. Only then does she draw away enough to study my face, as if looking for telltale signs of fatigue or illness.
“How are you feeling, sweetie? I hope you’ve been taking those new immunity boosters I bought. When I didn’t hear from you yesterday, I was concerned.”
I bite back the sigh that sits perched on the tip of my tongue, and paste a smile in place. “I feel great. I told you when you stopped by the other day that I’d be busy with classes and the tutoring center.”
Her brows pinch at the mention of my job on campus. “You’re just asking to pick up an illness working there. All those germs… I really hope you’re taking the necessary precautions. Washing your hands, using sanitizer, wearing a mask, and social distancing when possible. And when you return home from school, make sure you’re changing right away and throwing your dirty clothes into the laundry.”
“Mom…”
“I’m serious!” Her voice rises as fear flickers in her eyes.
“We talked to Dr. Edwards about it at my last appointment, remember? He agreed that it was fine. I’m not putting myself at risk.”
She presses her lips together before muttering, “I still don’t like it.”
“She’s fine, Becks. Willow hasn’t even caught so much as a cold this semester.”
Mom turns glaring eyes on my roommate, and her voice flattens. “Oh, I didn’t notice you there, Holland.”
My roommate grins. “It’s nice to see you too.”
After all these years, my mother has finally learned to tolerate Holland because I love her so fiercely and refuse to listen to one bad word she has to say about her or her family. What Mom can’t deny is that she’s been a steadfast friend through everything.
As far as Mom’s concerned, it’s Holland’s only saving grace.
“I’m being careful. Promise,” I say, cutting into their conversation before it can spiral out of control and ruin the evening.
It’s happened before.
We’re here to support River, not talk about me.
It won’t be long before she launches into a spiel about me going into elementary education and how many germs children carry. She’ll probably end up stroking out when I begin my student teaching placement next year.
Or she’ll show up every day armed with a can of disinfectant, sanitizing wipes, and masks.
I wouldn’t put it past the woman.
Just as I’m about to drop down onto the seat, she says, “Wait! Let me wipe down the chair again.”
“Mom,” I groan. “That’s not necessary.”
She meets my beseeching gaze with a determined look of her own. “It’ll only take a second.”
Embarrassment claws at my cheeks as she pulls out a travel-size pouch of wipes and scrubs the plastic and metal. A few people seated in the row above us stare as she grabs a small bottle of spray and then disinfects it.
The alcohol scent, masked by something that can only be described as artificially floral, stings my nostrils.
Once she tucks away her cleaning supplies, she waves toward the seat. “Now it’s ready.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem, sweetie. Do you want to wear a mask?” She glances around with a frown. “There are so many people packed in here.”
“If the germs don’t kill her,” Holland mutters beneath her breath, “your smothering will.”
By the way Mom narrows her eyes, she heard the comment loud and clear.
Before either one can take another swipe, the lights in the arena are dimmed as the music volume is raised, cutting off the possibility of further conversation.
When the players from the East Town Rattlers are announced, we whistle and cheer as River’s name reverberates throughout the arena. Then it’s time for the home team players to be introduced. I glance around as the fans cheer and applaud until the noise becomes deafening. The Jumbotron gives their fans a close-up shot as each player takes to the ice with a wave.