a small, “Yay.”
Not only did I have TV, I had all the stations again.
I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to watch TV or read, so I decided to do both. Picking a movie I didn’t have to pay close attention to, I opened iBooks before nearly dropped my precious.
I can’t believe it.
Rather than dull mysteries and stodgy nonfiction, there were hundreds of choices downloaded.
Hundreds.
Dystopian Young Adult. Biographies. Ones that looked like school textbooks. Serial killers, romances, paranormal, fantasy, and everything in between.
That time, my yay wasn’t soft. It was loud. As was my shouted, “Thank you!”
I wasn’t sure if anyone could hear me, but I said it anyway.
And then I curled up on the couch with the good mug of coffee and a good book.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ring-O-Fire
Juliet
“DO YOU THINK I could do tricks with this?” Even though I didn’t need it anymore, I scootered in circles around the couch. “Maybe a sick kickflip or some ramps. Oh! I know. I could try to scooter my way through the ring-o-fire.”
“Ring-o-fire?” Ms. Vera asked, setting my lunch tray down.
For a glorious week, I’d devoured amazing food. Devastatingly, the coffee had been a one-time treat, but lunch had started including a mini can of Diet Coke. Coffee was my first love, but Diet Coke was a close second.
I’d taken baths with bombs and salts and oils and whatever other fruity fragranced items my bathroom was stocked with. I’d binged movies. I’d read.
As amazing as it’d been—especially compared to my real life or a slow death in the desert sun—I was beginning to go stir-crazy again. A happier stir-crazy than last time, but still.
“Sit and eat,” Ms. Vera said.
“I will. I just need to finish my laps. I’m training for the scooter X Games and since my ankle is better, my time is limited.”
She rolled her eyes. “Your lunch time is limited today, too.”
“Why?”
“Because Mr. Freddy made you a BLT and soup, and if you don’t eat it, I will.” I almost believed her until I saw her smile.
I was good at reading people. Dad had taught me all about tells and cues, and I’d gotten good at picking up on them to avoid getting wailed on.
Ms. Vera had a big one.
Her mischievous smile.
My eyes narrowed. “What do you know?”
“Nothing. Now eat.”
“I’ll eat when you tell me what you know.”
She sighed. “Fine. Starve. Mr. Freddy’s broccoli cheese soup is my favorite.”
“Never mind,” I said, scootering over so fast, I nearly knocked into the table. I sat and removed the dome.
Holy shit, I could’ve sworn my birthday was a couple weeks ago, but maybe it’s today.
Picking up the soft white-bread sandwich, I bit in to the salty, tangy, fresh BLT and moaned. “Sometimes the basics really are the best.”
She gave me a pointed look for talking with my mouth full. “Manners.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, extending my pinkies.
“You’re a silly girl today,” she said, but I wasn’t sure she meant it as a compliment.
“I’m in a good mood,” I said. Probably a better one than I had any right being in, all things considered.
Darkness pushed in, threatening to steal my appetite and good mood.
Into the box.
Into the box.
There.
Crazily enough, I was pretty sure Ms. Vera read my internal battle because she busted out the big guns to distract me. “There’s a visitor coming tomorrow morning.”
Maximo.
I hadn’t seen him since he’d carried me to bed. Which was probably for the best because I doubted I could face him. I’d promised myself I’d never think about him when I touched myself again. It was wrong and stupid and more than a little sleazy.
But I still did it.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“A tutor.”
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
They know.
A pit in my belly grew even as a thrum of excitement buzzed through me.
“Why?” I asked, playing dumb.
“He’s going to see what areas you need help with so you can graduate.”
All areas.
Shame burned my cheeks. I didn’t want anyone to know how far behind I was.
I didn’t want them to know I was a high school dropout who’d only made it partway through tenth grade before her asshole father had decided school wasn’t a priority.
Appetite dead and gone, I nearly gagged on the bite of sandwich that suddenly felt like a chunk of asphalt. “I appreciate it, but I’ve already graduated.”
Ms. Vera’s eyes flashed with anger, and her easygoing, motherly disposition was gone. Or maybe she became more motherly because she looked ready to ground me. “Listen to me. Mr. Maximo hates liars. Learn this lesson and learn it fast. Learn it until it