Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
The dirty little secret I now share with Marcos is also making me uncomfortable. At least, I hope it’s a secret; I haven’t gotten any odd looks from the other men, so I assume he hasn’t told them. I’m sure if Shane knew, I’d be made aware of his irritation.
During the ride, my phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it, not wanting to read any messages with Khalil and Marcos looking over my shoulders. I know what I’ll see because a couple of texts came in before we left; my mom has gotten an unusually early start today.
When we approach the park’s entrance, I start to feel like a kid again, some long-dormant excitement bubbling up inside me. The guys want to head right for the biggest thrill ride, but I tell them I need to work up to it.
There are a couple of extreme coasters that definitely weren’t here when I was a kid, and they appear to defy the laws of physics. My stomach does flips just from looking at the tall, twisty steel structures.
So, instead, I pull the guys onto the bumper cars, where I have a great time chasing and being chased by all of them. We’re each in separate cars, and at one point, all four of them gang up and surround me. It’s pure, innocent fun, but the back of my mind can’t help but draw parallels to fantasies I’ve entertained.
My phone vibrates as I’m exiting the ride, and out of habit, I pull it from my pocket and scan the screen. It’s my mother again, but my sister’s name is mentioned, so I click to read more. What a mistake.
At least Rachel is a grateful daughter. I don’t know where I went wrong with you. I don’t understand why you don’t answer me. I’m just asking for a simple favor. After all I did for you when you were growing up, and now you won’t help me.
I shove my phone back in my pocket. “What’s next?” I ask the guys. “How about this one?” I lead them over to a spinning scrambler ride I remember from my childhood trip.
I end up on one end of a seat next to Shane and Devin, and when the ride reaches its speed, the force of motion squishes me against Shane. No matter how tightly I grip the handle on my other side, I can’t keep from sliding into him. Eventually, laughing, I give in and spend the ride tucked under his arm, pressing into his chest with each back and forth turn.
Shane and Devin are laughing too, and for a moment, everything feels light and easy.
Then an insistent vibration draws me back to my phone when we’re off the ride.
Your sister’s going to give us some money from her next paycheck, but it won’t be quite enough. I know you can cover the rest.
I usually don’t engage, but I can’t help it. As I follow the guys further into the park, I angrily type out a reply: Rachel is still a minor. You should be providing for her, not taking her hard-earned money.
My sister shouldn’t even have to work yet. She should be focused on her education and on having fun while she’s still a kid, but thanks to our piece-of-shit mother, she took a job so she’d have spending money, because god knows our mother never gives her any.
Her response comes right through:
Oh, the high and mighty Rebecca has finally taken a moment out of her busy day to respond. You know, if you’d get in touch once in a while, I wouldn’t have to bother you so much.
I put the phone to sleep. I probably should block her from ever contacting me, but I can’t bring myself to do it, not with Rachel still living in her house.
What’s most disgusting about it all is that it’s not even my mother who needs money; it’s her shitty boyfriend, Bill. He probably got a tip on some get-rich-quick scheme, or maybe he just needs beer money. Whatever it is, he pushes her for it, and she scrounges for money from Rachel and me and god knows who else. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last.
The extra-disgusting part is that Bill isn’t the first guy she’s been in this kind of relationship with. There’ve been a string of Bills, Bobs, and Joes, all using my mother, stringing her along for whatever gain they could get from her. The guys all suck, but she should know better by now.
“Ready for a coaster?” Khalil asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Yeah, sure.” My fear has been replaced by a need to go fast and do something that feels dangerous.
“We’ll start you out small,” he says. “This old wooden one is pretty tame.”
“I think this is the one I went on when I was a kid,” I say as we file into the line.