Read Online Freaksville by Ashley Brooke Robbins - Free Book Online
Authors: Ashley Brooke Robbins
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Kyle taking the wooden chair and breaking it over his head while the other people in the restaurant don’t pay them any attention.
Ha, so very unrealistic.
What really happens is.… Jake glares at him while Kyle tells him he wasn’t being very nice. And Nessa was really hurt. Nicks snorts and says he doesn’t give a shit about what I think. Which hurts me, but, oh well. Then Jake leans across the table, eyes blazing, and fangs extended. “You’re jealous. Not picking up some feeling off the new guy. He hasn’t done a damn thing to any of us—”
“That’s bullshit—” Nicks explodes, earning odd stares from a few people.
“Except,” Jake holds up a shaking hand, “become friends with Nessa. Who was trying to spend time with us and with him. You know how she is. She finds a hurt animal somewhere, and she has to help it. He’s not really different. He was alone and scared when he first started coming here, and she helped him. Get the hell over yourself and stop being such a damn dick. Or, before you know it, you’re going to lose her as a friend.”
That’s the longest speech he’s ever uttered …I withdraw. Why doesn’t he talk with me any?
After sitting there, pondering this for a little while, I get back to my feet and make my way out of the woods. How dark it’s gotten, and cold. I guess I really lost track of time. Mom’s probably worried sick, unless she’s out with her friends.
As I’m marching through all the overgrown grass, the hairs on the back of my neck and the feathers on my wings stand on end. I’m being watched.
Instead of giving away the fact that I know I’m being watched, I wrap my arms around myself against the chill and move at an agonizingly slow pace.
Eventually I make it out to the road in front of the Miller’s farm, and it’s only about a ten-minute walk to my house.
Finally home, I don’t smell microwaved leftovers like I usually do. So Mom is out with her friends. I find Billy intently staring at the takeout menus spread on our coffee table along with a bag of popcorn and an open beer. “Hey, squirt,” he greets without looking up. “I’m thinking Chinese. What about you?”
“All right with me.” I flop down in the chair and let my bag land beside me.
He places our order and disconnects. I only had to remind him of what I wanted five times. Old age is getting to him. “Should I even bother asking what took you so long?”
“I walked home.” It’s not a lie, but I’m not going into detail.
“Fight with your boyfriend?” He faces the TV.
“Not my boyfriend.”
“Uh….” He clears his throat. “Is this some kind of friends-with-benefits kind of thing? Do-does your mom need to have the talk with you?”
“I’ve always been in public school, dude,” I remind him in a bored tone. “We were taught about sex in fourth grade, not by the teacher, but by other students. Oh yeah, and Nicks is pregnant with my baby. Don’t tell Mom.”
His beer flies everywhere as he spits it out and then starts coughing. “Not.” Cough. “Funny.”
“Then why are you laughing?”
“Shut up.” He wipes at his nose. Ow, beer up the nose.
I start to reach for some popcorn, but he snatches the bag away.
“What?” I bat my lashes innocently.
“You’ll ruin your dinner.” Since when does he try to parent? “If you’re going to ruin your dinner, you need to do it right.” He goes from disapproving to smug. Then I catch on to where he’s going with this.
“Throw It All In, on a Tuesday? Dare we be that adventurous?”
He nods once then we fist pound. “Whoop, whoop!” We race each other to the kitchen, with him elbowing me, trying to slow me down. But I still make it there first and slide to a stop at the fridge. Then throw everything out of the freezer, all of the sweet stuff anyway. Popsicles, ice cream, frozen yogurt…and then we get everything out of the fridge. All of the sweet stuff, again.
Throw It All In Thursday was created when my
Ha, so very unrealistic.
What really happens is.… Jake glares at him while Kyle tells him he wasn’t being very nice. And Nessa was really hurt. Nicks snorts and says he doesn’t give a shit about what I think. Which hurts me, but, oh well. Then Jake leans across the table, eyes blazing, and fangs extended. “You’re jealous. Not picking up some feeling off the new guy. He hasn’t done a damn thing to any of us—”
“That’s bullshit—” Nicks explodes, earning odd stares from a few people.
“Except,” Jake holds up a shaking hand, “become friends with Nessa. Who was trying to spend time with us and with him. You know how she is. She finds a hurt animal somewhere, and she has to help it. He’s not really different. He was alone and scared when he first started coming here, and she helped him. Get the hell over yourself and stop being such a damn dick. Or, before you know it, you’re going to lose her as a friend.”
That’s the longest speech he’s ever uttered …I withdraw. Why doesn’t he talk with me any?
After sitting there, pondering this for a little while, I get back to my feet and make my way out of the woods. How dark it’s gotten, and cold. I guess I really lost track of time. Mom’s probably worried sick, unless she’s out with her friends.
As I’m marching through all the overgrown grass, the hairs on the back of my neck and the feathers on my wings stand on end. I’m being watched.
Instead of giving away the fact that I know I’m being watched, I wrap my arms around myself against the chill and move at an agonizingly slow pace.
Eventually I make it out to the road in front of the Miller’s farm, and it’s only about a ten-minute walk to my house.
Finally home, I don’t smell microwaved leftovers like I usually do. So Mom is out with her friends. I find Billy intently staring at the takeout menus spread on our coffee table along with a bag of popcorn and an open beer. “Hey, squirt,” he greets without looking up. “I’m thinking Chinese. What about you?”
“All right with me.” I flop down in the chair and let my bag land beside me.
He places our order and disconnects. I only had to remind him of what I wanted five times. Old age is getting to him. “Should I even bother asking what took you so long?”
“I walked home.” It’s not a lie, but I’m not going into detail.
“Fight with your boyfriend?” He faces the TV.
“Not my boyfriend.”
“Uh….” He clears his throat. “Is this some kind of friends-with-benefits kind of thing? Do-does your mom need to have the talk with you?”
“I’ve always been in public school, dude,” I remind him in a bored tone. “We were taught about sex in fourth grade, not by the teacher, but by other students. Oh yeah, and Nicks is pregnant with my baby. Don’t tell Mom.”
His beer flies everywhere as he spits it out and then starts coughing. “Not.” Cough. “Funny.”
“Then why are you laughing?”
“Shut up.” He wipes at his nose. Ow, beer up the nose.
I start to reach for some popcorn, but he snatches the bag away.
“What?” I bat my lashes innocently.
“You’ll ruin your dinner.” Since when does he try to parent? “If you’re going to ruin your dinner, you need to do it right.” He goes from disapproving to smug. Then I catch on to where he’s going with this.
“Throw It All In, on a Tuesday? Dare we be that adventurous?”
He nods once then we fist pound. “Whoop, whoop!” We race each other to the kitchen, with him elbowing me, trying to slow me down. But I still make it there first and slide to a stop at the fridge. Then throw everything out of the freezer, all of the sweet stuff anyway. Popsicles, ice cream, frozen yogurt…and then we get everything out of the fridge. All of the sweet stuff, again.
Throw It All In Thursday was created when my
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