Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 116231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“We are going to go down and get a puck,” she chirped happily, and I was drawn to her carefree manner.
“Hi,” I said to her when she looked over at me, “I’m Kylie.” I held up my hand.
“You’re pretty,” she said, and I couldn’t help the smile that filled my face.
“Not as pretty as you.” I took my finger and bopped her nose, making her laugh. She got down. When it was time to go and watch the guys skate around, I wanted to hang back,
but Nora came over to me. “It’s going to be fun, Kylie,” she assured me in her sweet voice, “and maybe Kirby will give you a puck.”
I held her hand as the babysitter followed behind us, and the minute Knox skated out, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Like something was on my chest and I was fighting for every single breath I was taking. I turned away as quickly as I could before he looked our way, and then it happened. Our eyes met and my breathing ultimately felt like it stopped.
“Fuck him,” I tell myself as I slip off my jeans and toss them into the laundry basket before taking off my shirt. I open my pajama drawer and pull out a pair of shorts and matching cami.
I turn off the lights and slip into the bed. The heavy duvet is over me as I lay my head on the pillow and look over at the window in my bedroom. The skyline is filled with stars and the moon looks like it’s barely there.
Another tear leaks out as it falls to my pillow, and it’s not Knox’s voice I hear this time. No, it’s a voice I’ve long since deemed the devil’s.
I had just turned seventeen and it was going to be a big year for me. I was graduating a full year early and, on top of that, it was the year I would finally be coming out as a debutante.
It was something I was looking forward to since I turned twelve and my friend Silvia’s sister, Simone, did it. I couldn’t fucking wait. Every single year it was a countdown to the big ball. My mother knew how excited I was, and my father, well my stepfather who adopted me after he married my mother when I was young, knew how excited I was too. I had a whiteboard in my room with the types of dresses I wanted to get. The way I wanted my hair styled.
I walked into his home office as he sat behind his big wooden desk. “Hey, Dad,” I said, knocking on the door before I stepped in. No one just barged into an office unless they were raised in a barn and had no manners. Or at least that is what I was taught.
“You may enter,” he said, taking off his glasses and turning in his chair. “What can I do for you?” He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. He never greeted me with a smile or a hug, something I didn’t know wasn’t normal.
“I wanted to ask you…” I said, suddenly feeling nervous. “Well, actually—” I put my hands in front of me and wrung them. “I was wondering if you gave some thought to who you could ask to nominate me to the debutante committee.”
He looked at me. “The debutante committee,” he repeated the words as if he had never heard them before. Like I hadn’t spent the last five years leading up to this moment.
“I’m seventeen now,” I remind him, “and it’s—” I stopped talking when he held up his hand.
“Kylie,” he said my name, “how would it look if my daughter is among all those other girls?” He looked at me and I felt my heart drop to the floor. “It would look like we are desperate for approval. My daughter isn’t going to be like all the rest.”
“No, it wouldn’t.” I shook my head. “It’s what all the girls do.”
“It’s not what my girl does,” he said, and I felt the tears coming. Felt them itching at my eyes, stinging at my nose, but I fought them, because tears were a waste of time and energy. You needed to put that time and energy into something else that was more important.
“Kylie,” he tapped his finger on the desk, “you stand out already.” I had to bite my lip to make it stop quivering. “Everyone already says you light up a room when you enter it. I’m the envy of all my friends. You don’t need a debutante ball for that.”
“But—”
“Wouldn’t it be better if you didn’t do it?” he countered. “It would get them way more interested in who you are than if you did it. It’s meaningless.” I swallowed down the lump. “You need to focus on school.”