Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
He’s not.
As light as I felt earlier, now it feels like I’m carrying the weight of the world as I trudge through the muddy path back to my road.
I can’t believe he didn’t show up. I don’t understand.
Somewhere along the walk, the rain and my tears start to mix together. I’m thankful for the bad weather when I open my front door and step inside, sopping wet. I’m a mess, but at least Mom won’t be able to tell I’ve been crying.
The TV is on and Mom is sitting on the couch, enjoying our night in without me. Tears threaten to fall again, but I hold them back as she turns around to greet me.
Her eyes widen in sudden horror at the sight of me. “Oh my God, Riley! Honey, why didn’t you call me? It’s a downpour out there. You shouldn’t have walked home in this.”
I shrug off my coat, holding it over the mat just inside the door so it doesn’t drip on the hardwood floor. “I didn’t realize how bad it was, then once I started walking I figured I was already wet, no point turning back.”
Shooting up off the couch and zooming around it, she chides, “You’ll catch your death. What are you thinking?”
She races to the hall closet and comes back with towels. Immediately, she drapes one over my shoulders and starts patting me dry with the other one. Emotion wells up inside me. I know we were only supposed to sit on the couch and watch stupid movies, but I’d have preferred that to sitting alone on a bridge in the rain and having my heart dinged up.
Maybe this is what I get for lying and sneaking around and doing something I knew I wasn’t allowed to do.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I look up at her and offer a wobbly, “I’m sorry, Mom.”
Her eyes widen in alarm, then soften with concern. “Oh, honey.” She wraps her arms around me, even though I’m soaking wet. “You don’t have to be sorry, silly girl, I just don’t want you to get sick.”
I know she doesn’t know what I’m sorry for, but I do and I need a hug anyway, so I wrap my arms around her and give her a big, wet hug. “Now I’m also sorry for getting you all wet.”
“Come here, you,” she says, tugging me close and settling my head on her shoulder.
“I’m really, really sorry.”
She holds onto me for a while, murmuring comforting nonsense words while I settle down. Once I’m calm and no longer an emotional mess, she tells me to go change into something dry while she microwaves some popcorn.
I feel worse about lying to her to sneak out with Hunter, but a lot better at the prospect of salvaging what’s left of our bad movie night. I towel off in the bathroom and strip off my sopping wet clothes, then I change into a pair of blue flannel pajama shorts and a white tank top. I take my hair out of the rat’s nest pony tail it turned into and brush out the knots, then I wash my face, but the mascara doesn’t want to come all the way off.
I panic, realizing my mom probably noticed the mascara when I came in. Maybe she didn’t since I was an emotional mess. Maybe she was distracted.
I wash my face twice until I finally get all the mascara off, then when my face is fresh and bare, I put my hair back up and go back to the living room for movie night.
Since I got Mom all wet, she had to change too. She’s sitting on the couch in a pink t-shirt with leopard print pajama pants. She perks up when she sees me come in.
“Ready?”
I flop down on the couch beside her and reach over to grab a handful of popcorn. Since I was planning to eat at the theater with Hunter, I’m famished. “I was born ready,” I tell her.
Mom smiles, grabs the remote control, and starts the movie back over at the beginning so I don’t miss anything.
___
When our bad movie mini-marathon comes to an end, it’s time to go to bed. Ordinarily Mom wouldn’t accompany to my room since I’m not a little kid anymore, but tonight she does. She hangs out in the doorway as I check my backpack to make sure everything I need for school tomorrow is inside. The sight of my backpack makes me feel a bit sad.
Hunter never texted me back. Despite feeling wretched for doing it, I texted him one more time after I got home to let him know I gave up waiting on him and went home, but if he’s read a single one of my texts, I certainly can’t tell.
My stomach aches when I think about it. I dread going to bed because I know I won’t fall right to sleep. I’ll lie there torturing myself with my thoughts. They started seeping in even while we watched the movie, but alone in the dark, trying to fall asleep? The torture is inevitable.