Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
But I can’t shake the feeling that something is off.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Oh, that’s our final guest we’re waitin’ on,” calls out Nadine. “Hey, can someone be a doll and let them in?”
Seeing as I’m closest to the door, I respond. “Got it, Nadine!” I head toward the door.
Before I can even reach it, it swings right open on its own, and in struts a familiar face in a plaid buttoned shirt and jeans. I think he sings in the church choir. “Hey, Tan!” he calls out, marching right past me over to Tanner. I turn, watching. “Hi, Mrs. Strong! Oh, gimme some hugs! It’s been forever since I’ve been here!”
Nadine’s response is a touch less warm. “Yes, alright, Burton, darlin’, it’s nice to see you, too. I think we’re about ready to get down to business. Now did you bring your team with you?”
“What team? Just kiddin’. Yeah, should be right behind me.”
The sound of shoes scuffling draws my attention back to the front door, where I see the effervescent face of Tamika coming in, wearing a pretty purple sundress with matching earrings. Her eyes find me first. “Oh, hi, Cole!” she sings. “I didn’t know you’d be here, too!” Then she peers back over her shoulder. “Hey, are you coming in?”
The scuffling of shoes I heard wasn’t hers. It was the shy cutie behind her—Noah, wearing a white polo shirt and khakis, with his hair parted, cheeks rosy, and sweet small eyes affixed to mine.
Chapter 5
Noah
I’m overdressed.
Everyone else is casual and comfortable. I look like I’m about to sell them insurance or give a lecture on astrophysics.
I wasn’t even supposed to go. I’m not supposed to be here.
But just as I finished typing up my piece at the Spruce Press, a very out-of-breath Burton rushed inside and nearly crashed into the side of my desk. “Got plans tonight? Not anymore. We’re goin’ over to the Strongs’.”
I stared at him over my glasses. “The Strongs’ …?”
“Just got a call. I got a really good feeling about this. You done with your piece? Good, drop it on my desk, no one’s gonna think twice about it tomorrow anyway. Do you need a ride?”
I already felt like I was playing catch-up. “W-Wait, sir …”
“Whatever, I’ll pick you up at 7:30. I was told to bring my team with me—and that specifically included you, Mr. Man Of The Hour. Patrick’s still glued to his toilet, so I’ll just relay everything to him in the morning. Tamika is meeting us there.”
“What for? What’s happening at the Strongs’?”
Burton leaned in so close he could kiss me. “Everything,” he whispered dramatically.
I spent the next two hours at home sweating through about six different outfits before finally choosing a simple yet sensible t-shirt and a pair of nice, neutral jeans.
“No, no, not for the Strongs!” sang my mother when she saw me emerge from my room. “You’ve gotta dress up for them, sweet thing, not dress down. Where’s your church outfit?”
“We don’t go to church,” I replied.
“But the one you wear when you do. Oh! Shouldn’t you bring somethin’? It’s rude to show up to a thing empty-handed.”
Nightmares of Jiggle-Wiggles sprung my mouth to action. “It’s okay, I don’t have to bring anything with me. She specifically told us not to.” I might have been fibbing. But maybe it was also true, I figured. Between Nadine’s chef son-in-law and her own tireless round-the-clock staff, wasn’t it a statistical certainty that she’d have every last one of her food needs covered?
“Perfect,” sang my mother after I changed.
Into a bland white polo shirt one size too big.
With freshly-ironed Sunday morning khakis.
My mom had been home all day. She didn’t even know what had almost happened to me, to her own son. The last thing I wanted to do was inspire an emotional breakdown in my mother thinking her son almost died today. She’ll find out with everyone else when the story comes out, I had decided. She thinks I’m just going to the Strongs’ for a “newspaper thing”, which isn’t actually a lie.
“Are you quite sure I can’t whip you up a lovely pie or a fresh batch of some adorable Puff-Tootin’ Tarts to take over?”
I could not nor would I dare ask what in the hell Puff-Tootin’ Tarts were. But I was quite sure they had faces, and I immediately wanted nothing to do with them. “N-No thank you, Mom.”
As I headed out the door, she gave me a kiss on the forehead. Burton was already waiting for me, impatiently honking his horn from the curb. “Tell Miss Nadine I said hi!” she hollered out from the front step, nearly chirping.
The whole way out to the Strongs’, Burton sang. I tried to ask him if he knew what the event tonight was about, but was quickly drowned out when he belted (and sustained) a surprisingly high note—which even I must admit was quite impressive and pleasing to the ears. I was left staring at the countryside the whole way.