Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
He shakes his head then ruffles my dark hair as he walks out of the room.
I reach up to straighten it—I mean, I just brushed it perfectly. Even put my favorite rainbow barrette in it.
“You should have gotten your ass up to see your kid get her award. My parents didn’t do that for me and look how I turned out,” he grumbles over his shoulder as he grabs his vest and kicks open the flimsy screen on the front door. It bangs and ricochets back.
My mom stands and rolls her eyes at me as she yells after him, “It’s kindergarten for fuck’s sake.”
His bike rumbles to life and I put my hands over my ears. I hate that rumble. Sometimes it makes a loud pop, which scares me.
I hate being scared; I try hard not to be. But monsters and bad people are always there when I close my eyes. Good thing I have Edge.
“I’m in first grade, Mommy.” Her eyes swing to mine.
“What?”
“First grade.” I stomp my foot. “Why can’t you be normal?” I take off running.
“Come back here, young lady, or I’ll get the wooden spoon,” she shrieks after me. But like the bearded guy, I swing open the screen door and slam it and then I’m running.
I know where I need to be. I’ll hide and wait until he comes for me.
The neighborhood park isn’t far and not very busy, which is why we love it. By we, I mean, me, Edge, Jason, Chuckie, and sometimes others.
I go to the corner over by the play area and climb up on a stinky dumpster so I can open the gym window. It’s heavy. The latch is broken so Edge and I and sometimes other kids hide out here when we don’t want to be found, like now.
Slinking in, I hear the window swing shut with a fast whoosh as I leap to the gym floor. I’m small, which is handy when I need to hide or get into places.
I take off my backpack and open it up with all my treasures and school stuff. I have a book about how to be a real princess. Blinking at the dark gym, only a little bit of sunlight streams in through the windows. Most are filled with dust, so I dig around for my flashlight as I sniff back my tears. I don’t know what time it is, but I’m positive it’s over. I missed it, and I might never get another award again.
Sighing, I kind of need a second to get used to the stinky feet smell. But it’s better than our house, so I’m okay with it.
I take out my snack. It’s an apple and some Cheetos. Then I tuck my legs under me making myself as small as I can and wait.
He’ll come for me; he always knows what to do. He’s my best friend in the whole world and I love him.
EDGE
Six years old
I look around the courtyard, hoping to spot her head of dark hair. Dolly’s so tiny that it sometimes takes a second to see her. I’m frustrated and angry and maybe scared. My face is hot. Where is she?
My head twists back and forth as I stand on my tiptoes to look.
“Do you need to use the restroom, Edge?”
I turn and look into my teacher’s eyes. I straighten my shoulders as I clear my throat. “No.”
A loud explosion of clapping makes her lose interest in me and smile at the principal. All the parents of the good kids… the normal kids are here. Their loud screams and filming make me want to kick someone in the shin, but then I’d wind up in the principal’s office and would have to take a beating when I get home. Not worth it.
I look down at my dirty tennis shoes and feel bad. Her mom forgot or maybe worse.
I hate Dolly’s mom almost as much as I hate my dad.
“Dolores Dunghart?” My head pops up at her name. The principal calls her name again. People clap but no Dolly, no pretty smile to brighten my day. And before I know what I’m doing, I march up there. “Doll—um Dolores is sick. I’m supposed to pick it up for her,” I tell our principal.
“Oh.” She squints down at me. “Well, I know you two are in the same gang. Please tell her to bring a note when she returns.”
If my dad or any of the Disciples heard her call us a gang… well, I’m not sure she’d still be standing.
We’re not a gang—we’re an MC club and the best one in the world, my dad says.
I grab the gold certificate and the stupid cheap bubble gum machine and rush back to my class line tossing it into my backpack. This is so bad; Dolly should have been here. All she wanted was for her mom and dad to see her get that dumb award.