Read Online The Line That Binds Series Box Set by J. M. Miller - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: J. M. Miller
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don’t want to take a trip with me to the thrift store? You might not want to start the year off with triple-digit kicks and clothes to match,” I called to Gavin as I dropped the second designer-stuffed box in the hall by the front door. We’d just finished unloading the groceries Dad bought after his unsuccessful trip to find a new job. Now it was my turn to take the SUV out in hopes to change my life. The only difference was I’d be trading in my old personality for a new one by way of fashion.
“Not a chance,” Gavin replied crisply from the kitchen.
I’d wished he’d had the sense to think it through. I’d pestered him about it all morning, but he shot the idea down every time. I could only hope the sharks in this middle-of-nowhere school district weren’t threatened by shiny, expensive clothing.
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I retorted as I skimmed my fingers along the top of the table in the foyer, cutting clean finger streaks through its blanket of dust.
I’d cleaned the entire upstairs and the kitchen this morning before deciding the house was far too large to finish in one day. I had yet to even explore the basement. I stared down the paneled hallway at the well paintings that I’d stacked in front of the basement door. They would add to whatever mess was waiting for me down there. I promised myself I’d venture down tomorrow. After the first day of school and first day of grounds work, though, I wasn’t sure I’d be in any condition to do much more.
After I loaded the boxes into the Escape, I jumped in and pulled around the driveway we shared with the groundskeepers. The main driveway for Stockton Mansion was strictly for the mansion’s parking lot, which accommodated employees and events. Today’s event happened to be a wedding that overran the parking lot. I’d caught glimpses of this morning’s courtyard nuptials as I cleaned the upstairs windows. The bride’s strapless gown was glamorous. Its billowing ruffles swayed with each step, floating her body over the stone walkway as she approached the courtyard’s iron trellis where her groom stood mesmerized. I thought the ceremony would’ve ended by now, but guests continued to roam the grounds. Some snapped pictures, others wobbled around while they carefully held cocktails. Most projected happiness through their smiles and laughter that I couldn’t hear through the Escape’s windows. I was glad I couldn’t. I wasn’t in the mood for happy.
I pulled out onto the main two-lane road, heading toward Lancaster and the large thrift store we’d passed during the last half hour of our cross-country drive. I knew I was better off traveling back to the bigger town than going into our new local town, Quarryville. They’d have to have a larger selection and more cash on hand.
The roads here felt like a cruel prank taped for some horrific hidden-camera show. There were roads with no signs, roads too small to fit opposing traffic, and roads with potholes the size of coupes. Luckily, when I finally found it, the Mega Thrift was open. I stepped into the store, greeted by a nineties grunge song and a moldy smell from the tattered carpet thrown in front of the entrance door. I checked in at the trade-in counter with a woman who appeared to be suffering with an all-day hangover until I dumped the first box in front of her. Her baggy eyes popped wide open, like Mom’s used to after taking a trip to the powder room for a quick bump.
“You guys offer cash, right?” I asked, double checking the information I’d read from a sign in the store’s window.
Her hands were already frantically digging into my clothes, searching for her own size no doubt. There was a chance she’d luck out. She was thin, possibly from unfortunate circumstances, or perhaps from similar habits of my mom’s that suppressed hunger instead of stimulated it. I was no longer naïve. I knew the probability for any normal person to be a user. After I learned
“Not a chance,” Gavin replied crisply from the kitchen.
I’d wished he’d had the sense to think it through. I’d pestered him about it all morning, but he shot the idea down every time. I could only hope the sharks in this middle-of-nowhere school district weren’t threatened by shiny, expensive clothing.
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I retorted as I skimmed my fingers along the top of the table in the foyer, cutting clean finger streaks through its blanket of dust.
I’d cleaned the entire upstairs and the kitchen this morning before deciding the house was far too large to finish in one day. I had yet to even explore the basement. I stared down the paneled hallway at the well paintings that I’d stacked in front of the basement door. They would add to whatever mess was waiting for me down there. I promised myself I’d venture down tomorrow. After the first day of school and first day of grounds work, though, I wasn’t sure I’d be in any condition to do much more.
After I loaded the boxes into the Escape, I jumped in and pulled around the driveway we shared with the groundskeepers. The main driveway for Stockton Mansion was strictly for the mansion’s parking lot, which accommodated employees and events. Today’s event happened to be a wedding that overran the parking lot. I’d caught glimpses of this morning’s courtyard nuptials as I cleaned the upstairs windows. The bride’s strapless gown was glamorous. Its billowing ruffles swayed with each step, floating her body over the stone walkway as she approached the courtyard’s iron trellis where her groom stood mesmerized. I thought the ceremony would’ve ended by now, but guests continued to roam the grounds. Some snapped pictures, others wobbled around while they carefully held cocktails. Most projected happiness through their smiles and laughter that I couldn’t hear through the Escape’s windows. I was glad I couldn’t. I wasn’t in the mood for happy.
I pulled out onto the main two-lane road, heading toward Lancaster and the large thrift store we’d passed during the last half hour of our cross-country drive. I knew I was better off traveling back to the bigger town than going into our new local town, Quarryville. They’d have to have a larger selection and more cash on hand.
The roads here felt like a cruel prank taped for some horrific hidden-camera show. There were roads with no signs, roads too small to fit opposing traffic, and roads with potholes the size of coupes. Luckily, when I finally found it, the Mega Thrift was open. I stepped into the store, greeted by a nineties grunge song and a moldy smell from the tattered carpet thrown in front of the entrance door. I checked in at the trade-in counter with a woman who appeared to be suffering with an all-day hangover until I dumped the first box in front of her. Her baggy eyes popped wide open, like Mom’s used to after taking a trip to the powder room for a quick bump.
“You guys offer cash, right?” I asked, double checking the information I’d read from a sign in the store’s window.
Her hands were already frantically digging into my clothes, searching for her own size no doubt. There was a chance she’d luck out. She was thin, possibly from unfortunate circumstances, or perhaps from similar habits of my mom’s that suppressed hunger instead of stimulated it. I was no longer naïve. I knew the probability for any normal person to be a user. After I learned
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