Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“Thank you, Mrs. Parker. I’ll be sure to stay out of your way. You won’t even know I’m here,” I said quietly once she let me go.
“Nonsense,” she said loudly. “You will do no such thing. You will bother me as much as you can, and you will call me Maggie. None of that Mrs. Parker thing around here.”
I gave her a small smile and looked around. The wooden stairs were to the right, directly in front of the front door. To the left, there was a sitting room with a large burgundy cloth couch and a white coffee table. Mrs. Parker laughed when she saw me crinkle my nose as I looked at the room.
“The couch is temporary. Cole opened up a bottle of pop on the white couch that was there two weeks ago and managed to stain everything. I had to get rid of it, but I didn’t want to leave it bare, so I made him and the boys bring up this couch from the basement. They had strict rules not to go near the sitting area with food or drinks, but Cole is a bit of a rule breaker. He’s grounded until Friday. No football, no girls, no video games. Since those are his three favorite things, he’s been suffering for two weeks. He’s probably moping around in his room doing homework right now. You’ll meet him at dinner time.” Maggie had a soothing voice, and even as she told me the story—which she was obviously upset about—she sounded as if she was talking to me about cute little puppies in a pet shop. I could tell that she truly loved these boys, and it made me feel warm inside. Maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad after all.
After giving me a tour of the downstairs area, Greg and Aubry helped me take my stuff upstairs and showed me to my room. Greg knocked on the first door to the right of the stairs.
“This is your room. Becky’s in there now cleaning it. She stays here when she comes over,” he explained.
A girl with a wide smile, fiery red hair, and bright blue eyes opened the door. I’d never seen anybody with such red hair before.
“Hi,” she cheered joyfully after looking at me up and down a few times. “I’m Becky—your best friend and sometimes roommate,” she said before pulling me in for a hug.
When she let go, I looked at her and crinkled my forehead. “What makes you think I want a best friend?” I asked curiously.
“Oh, I can tell. You need one. You’re wearing a sweater that’s two sizes too big for your body, you have on sweats, and your boots make you look like you’re going to work in construction. Trust me, you need me as a best friend,” Becky said matter-of-factly.
To my surprise, I laughed. A real laugh. The sound was so foreign to my own ears that I scared myself. From the looks on Greg, Aubry, and Becky’s faces, I could tell I surprised them as well.
“If you say so,” I said with a smile as I shrugged.
The boys left us alone, and Becky helped me unpack all my clothes and put them into the drawers that she emptied out for me.
“So do you want to play dress-up?” Becky asked excitedly. I bit down on my lip. I was scared of playing anything that had to do with her dressing me up. I might go downstairs looking like a Moulin Rouge dancer.
“How old are you?” I asked curiously.
“I’ll be fourteen next week. How old are you?”
“I’ll be fourteen next month. So why would we play dress-up?”
“Pfff, you don’t have to be five to play dress-up, Blake,” she said laughing.
“Umm...well, I’ve never actually played dress-up. I just know that only little kids do it,” I whispered, staring down at my hands.
She gasped. “You’ve never played dress-up?”
I shook my head and suddenly regretted telling Becky because I realized that I had given her permission to dress me up. Becky plucked my eyebrows, straightened my loose curls with a hair iron—something I’d never even seen before—filed and painted my nails, and applied makeup on me. I told her about living with Aunt Shelley and how she died a week ago. About how I don’t really remember my parents because they died when I was little. I didn’t go into detail about how or when. I’d never had anybody to talk to, and it felt good to confide in Becky. Not that there was much to tell. I’d had friends growing up, but they were mostly from dance class and school. It was going to be weird actually living with kids my age.
“Do you live close by?” I asked Becky curiously.
“Yeah,” she replied distractedly. “A block over. I ride my bike here every day. Sometimes my mom works nights on the weekends, so I stay with Aunt Mags. I like staying here better anyway.”