Read Online 52 Reasons to Hate My Father by Jessica Brody - Free Book Online
Authors: Jessica Brody
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replies, “What are you talking about? I thought you scheduled the jet for six?”
“My flight was canceled.”
At this she laughs. “That’s ridiculous. Private planes don’t get canceled unless there’s bad weather. And there hasn’t been a cloud in the sky.”
“Oh, there have been plenty of clouds here. Dark ones.”
More silence and then, “Lex, are you screwing with me? Are you going to like jump out of a closet somewhere and try to get me to scream?” I can hear the shuffle of movement and I assume that’s Jia glancing around her, pulling back curtains, and opening doors, looking for evidence of my practical joke.
I sigh gravely. “I wish this was a joke. I really do. All day, the only thing I’ve been able to do is wish that it’s one big, stupid, not-funny joke.”
Her voice softens. She knows I’m serious now. “Okay, talk to me. What happened?”
I tell her everything. I talk until my throat is sore and the tears are streaming down my face. She listens quietly and doesn’t say anything except for the occasional gasp and sigh when I get to a particularly atrocious part. When I finally finish, I expect her to get all lecture-y on me, ranting about the injustice of the whole thing and how my father should never be able to get away with this. But she doesn’t say that. Like a good friend, she bypasses all that unhelpful dribble that is certain to only rile me up again and gets right to the solution. “Stay where you are,” she instructs me. “I’m sending someone to pick you up.”
I’m a little surprised by her response, which is why it takes me a second to say, “Huh? Ji, what are you talking about?”
She makes a small pfff sound. “What do you think I’m talking about, Lex? If there were ever a night to party, it’s tonight. Before you’re forced to do God-knows-what tomorrow. Tonight may be the last chance you have to do anything fun. I don’t care what your stupid father says. He can empty your bank account and cancel your credit cards, but he can’t cancel mine. It’s your eighteenth birthday and I’m bringing you to Vegas.”
After I hang up the phone, I start sprinting around my room, throwing items into a bag. Jia told me not to worry about clothes. That she and T will take care of everything I need, but I’m packing a few essentials just in case.
God, I love my friends. I love them more than anything. How amazing are they? Seriously!
Holly gives me a strange look from the bed as she watches me scramble to get ready.
I run over to her and scoop her up under my arm. “I know you hate Vegas, baby,” I tell her. “So don’t worry. I’ll leave you with Horatio. He’ll take good care of you.”
Then, with Holly in one hand and my hastily packed overnight bag in the other, I scurry out my bedroom door.
I try not to think about where I have to be at nine tomorrow morning or what I’m going to have to endure for the next fifty-two weeks of my life. The only thing on my mind as the hired limo pulls out of my driveway is that Jia is absolutely right. If there were ever a night to party, it’s tonight. Tonight has to be huge . The hugest . I have to make it count. Every other night has to pale in comparison to the festivities that lie ahead. There will be no sleeping. No resting. I am prepared to go all night.
This may very well be the last night of fun I’m going to have for a long, long time. My last night of freedom before I’m forced to enter the Richard Larrabee Boot Camp for Ungrateful, Spoiled Daughters.
Tonight is my equivalent of the Last Supper.
As the plane takes off and I watch the ground get smaller and smaller beneath me, I can’t help but smile as I imagine the look on Bruce’s face when I walk into his office tomorrow morning, after having partied the entire night away. And then I think about the call he’ll make to my father, informing him of my incapacitated state. Complaining about my total lack of respect for the family name and
“My flight was canceled.”
At this she laughs. “That’s ridiculous. Private planes don’t get canceled unless there’s bad weather. And there hasn’t been a cloud in the sky.”
“Oh, there have been plenty of clouds here. Dark ones.”
More silence and then, “Lex, are you screwing with me? Are you going to like jump out of a closet somewhere and try to get me to scream?” I can hear the shuffle of movement and I assume that’s Jia glancing around her, pulling back curtains, and opening doors, looking for evidence of my practical joke.
I sigh gravely. “I wish this was a joke. I really do. All day, the only thing I’ve been able to do is wish that it’s one big, stupid, not-funny joke.”
Her voice softens. She knows I’m serious now. “Okay, talk to me. What happened?”
I tell her everything. I talk until my throat is sore and the tears are streaming down my face. She listens quietly and doesn’t say anything except for the occasional gasp and sigh when I get to a particularly atrocious part. When I finally finish, I expect her to get all lecture-y on me, ranting about the injustice of the whole thing and how my father should never be able to get away with this. But she doesn’t say that. Like a good friend, she bypasses all that unhelpful dribble that is certain to only rile me up again and gets right to the solution. “Stay where you are,” she instructs me. “I’m sending someone to pick you up.”
I’m a little surprised by her response, which is why it takes me a second to say, “Huh? Ji, what are you talking about?”
She makes a small pfff sound. “What do you think I’m talking about, Lex? If there were ever a night to party, it’s tonight. Before you’re forced to do God-knows-what tomorrow. Tonight may be the last chance you have to do anything fun. I don’t care what your stupid father says. He can empty your bank account and cancel your credit cards, but he can’t cancel mine. It’s your eighteenth birthday and I’m bringing you to Vegas.”
After I hang up the phone, I start sprinting around my room, throwing items into a bag. Jia told me not to worry about clothes. That she and T will take care of everything I need, but I’m packing a few essentials just in case.
God, I love my friends. I love them more than anything. How amazing are they? Seriously!
Holly gives me a strange look from the bed as she watches me scramble to get ready.
I run over to her and scoop her up under my arm. “I know you hate Vegas, baby,” I tell her. “So don’t worry. I’ll leave you with Horatio. He’ll take good care of you.”
Then, with Holly in one hand and my hastily packed overnight bag in the other, I scurry out my bedroom door.
I try not to think about where I have to be at nine tomorrow morning or what I’m going to have to endure for the next fifty-two weeks of my life. The only thing on my mind as the hired limo pulls out of my driveway is that Jia is absolutely right. If there were ever a night to party, it’s tonight. Tonight has to be huge . The hugest . I have to make it count. Every other night has to pale in comparison to the festivities that lie ahead. There will be no sleeping. No resting. I am prepared to go all night.
This may very well be the last night of fun I’m going to have for a long, long time. My last night of freedom before I’m forced to enter the Richard Larrabee Boot Camp for Ungrateful, Spoiled Daughters.
Tonight is my equivalent of the Last Supper.
As the plane takes off and I watch the ground get smaller and smaller beneath me, I can’t help but smile as I imagine the look on Bruce’s face when I walk into his office tomorrow morning, after having partied the entire night away. And then I think about the call he’ll make to my father, informing him of my incapacitated state. Complaining about my total lack of respect for the family name and
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