Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
In my room upstairs, as I was getting ready for bed and saying a prayer, I thought of Abel Adams. In my sadness, I’d forgotten that he was the one without a mom and dad. I couldn’t imagine being alone like that in the world. Even though my mom could be a bit much, I still loved her. Plus, my dad was the bomb. He was the greatest dad ever.
I climbed off my bed and crept to the window. Wrapping my hands around the iron bars, I looked into the night, toward Mr. Adams’s house with the leafless tree and a falling apart porch, wondering what Abel was doing right that second.
I hoped he was sleeping well.
It’s Sunday morning now and I’m sitting on a hard pew at church, in the back. My legs are short so they don’t reach all the way to the ground and I’m swinging them to and fro, imagining I’m outside, in the park on an actual swing. Preferably without the stupid, tight church shoes – black ballet flats – and without the tight braid that’s making my scalp itch.
I’m sorry to say but Sunday service can be a little boring. No offense to God or anything. It’s just that I’d rather be out in the sun. Plus, it’s always gorgeous at nine AM on Sundays. Not my fault.
Anyway, I’m sitting in the back with Sky, whose feet do touch the ground. I hate that. My mom’s up front with Mrs. Weatherby and they’re busy chatting about something, probably about how much baking powder to add into their cookies. My dad’s sitting with Mr. Knight, the cop, and the most important person in town aside from his brother, Father Knight. My dad and Mr. Knight are great friends, went to school together and everything.
We’re all waiting for the service to begin when Sky leans over. “I think we should make a break for it.”
“What?”
She gestures with her chin. “The door. Let’s sneak out.”
“No way.” My eyes are wide. “We’ll get caught.”
“Not if we do it right.”
“No. We’re not doing it.” I shake my head. A big shake.
She sits back with a huff. “You’re such a party pooper, Evie. You poop on my parties.”
“I do not.” I nudge her with my elbow. A hard nudge.
“Ow,” Sky squawks and retaliates. Obviously.
She digs her elbow into my side and now I’m the one saying ow. Before we know it, we’re hitting each other, whisper-yelling and throwing each other glares when someone clears their throat over us. Loudly.
We both freeze with our hands in the air, all ready to strike. Sky’s the one to see who it is; my back is turned.
She beams up at the person. “Hey, Mr. B. How are ya?”
I deflate, lowering my arms. Oh, thank God. It’s only Mr. Bernard. He’s the nicest man ever with a kind, wrinkled face and white mop of hair. He’s the one who sneaks me chocolates when my mom isn’t looking. He’s totally safe. I thought it was someone else, someone like my mom or Mrs. Weatherby or any number of snitches.
“Good. Good.” He chuckles. “Though you ladies don’t seem to be doing that well. Are we fighting again?”
I turn around to face him, grinning. “Hey, Mr. B. You know how violent Sky is.”
Sky bumps my shoulder from behind. “Evie isn’t that gentle either.”
“Hey!” I point my finger at her. “I’m gentle, okay? I’m a lady.” I whip back around to face Mr. B. “Tell her, Mr. B. Tell her…” I trail off when I see someone step out from behind Mr. B.
It’s the new boy. Abel.
It’s a surprising thing because Peter Adams, his uncle, never attends Mass. So I figured Abel wouldn’t either. But he is here, all tall and… golden.
His golden hair glints in the sunlight peeking through the polished brown door of the church. He has a silver cross around his neck, and there’s a golden dusting of hair on his tanned forearms. His fingers are long and tanned as well, and they’re wrapped around the strap of his backpack. His backpack? What’s he doing here with that? At church.
Oh my God, is he leaving already?
I whisk my gaze up at his face and realize his eyes are on me. His eyes. They are so warm and brown and syrupy, like thick honey or maple syrup. Oh darn. I need pancakes now, preferably with chocolate chips.
I press my hand to my stomach, feeling hungry, and then hot all over in my summery white dress, like I’ve been sitting outside under the sun for too long.
“Tell her what?” Mr. B prompts with a smile.
Blushing, I look away from Abel and focus on him. “Uh, nothing.”
Great. My voice sounds so unsure. For some reason, I’ve become too shy, and my cheeks feel flushed.
Sky chimes in, then. “You’re the new guy, right?”