Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Logan frowned. “What are you making?”
“Um…salad? I know you’ve had one before.”
“Yes, but you don’t usually make them.”
“Yes I do.” I threw a chunk of cucumber at him before remembering we had a puppy now. Luckily Frankie Blue didn’t notice, and Logan threw it back.
“When you do, you get the bagged stuff, but you have like, real lettuce and all sorts of options. I don’t remember you ever putting bell peppers in a salad before.”
Leave it to kids to unknowingly call you on your shit. Not that it was really shit, but yeah, I was trying to make a pretty fucking special salad. “First, the bagged stuff is real lettuce. Second, maybe I just think we need to start eating more balanced meals.”
His frown deepened. “O-kay.”
“Do your homework, twerp.”
He nodded and did as told. I finished up with my salad, covered the bowl, and put it in the fridge.
“How’s school going?” I’d spoken to them about watching out for anyone teasing Logan, and they readily agreed.
“I thought you wanted me to do my homework?” Logan countered.
“I do, but I also want to check in with you. Is that okay?”
He sighed. I sat across from him at the table, and he said, “It’s fine, Dad. No one has been mean to me or anything. They don’t really know me well enough to think I’m a dork.”
“Hey, you’re not a dork.”
“You have to think that.”
This was so foreign to me. While I hadn’t been the popular kid everyone wanted to be friends with, I always had my group of peers. I always fit in, and if I didn’t, I didn’t give a shit. I didn’t know what it felt like to be littler than everyone else or picked on. The thought of Logan dealing with it made my chest ache and anger rage.
“No, I don’t have to think that, but even if I did, other people who aren’t your parents don’t think you’re a dork. Callum likes you. You guys have a badass-cool-kids club I’m not even allowed to be a member of.”
He gave a small grin. “I know, and I’m fine. I just don’t like to talk about it. I feel like even more of a loser when we do. But no one has been mean to me. No one has picked on me. No one has said much of anything to me unless they have to.”
It wasn’t hard to read between the lines. Maybe he hadn’t been picked on, but he hadn’t met any friends yet either. Fuck, I hated this. I wanted to go down to that school and force the other kids to see how great Logan was. How kind and funny and smart.
“Want to work on our model airplane tonight?” It wasn’t the same as kids at school, but I wanted him to know I enjoyed spending time with him.
Logan didn’t reply right away, and then there was a knock at the door and he shoved out of the chair. “I’ll get it!”
“Hey,” I said. He stopped and looked at me. “I love you, buddy.”
“I know.” And then he was gone. I heard him talking to Callum, the two of them chatting about Frankie Blue and how her first night had gone.
“Dad’s in the kitchen. I’m finishing up some homework. The math here is different, so I’m having a little trouble with it,” Logan told him as they walked in.
“Math is my specialty. I can help if you want.”
“Really? That’s the best!”
Callum looked over at me and smiled widely. He had perfect teeth, straight and white and, shit, I’d never noticed someone’s teeth before. But then I was smiling too—he had this contagious grin you couldn’t help returning when he aimed it your way.
“Oh, I see how it is,” I teased. “You don’t ask me to help with math.”
“Dad, I love you, but you suck at math. We both know that.”
I laughed because he was right. “You have a point there. I’d likely be asking you to explain it to me.”
“Exactly.” Logan pushed his glasses up his nose. Callum pulled one of the chairs over and sat beside him, and they immediately started talking numbers and process and I was already lost. It only took Callum a few minutes to explain something before Logan was hooting. “Oh my God! You’re right. How did I not see that?”
“See? It’s actually kind of cool how it works.” Callum jotted something down.
I didn’t see how math could ever be cool, but to each their own. They were blabbing again, talking about multiplying this by that and all sorts of other shit.
I opened the fridge and poured them each a glass of lemonade, hoping Callum liked it, then set them on the table.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Yeah, thanks, Dad. Now go away somewhere and leave us alone.” Callum winked, and goose bumps ran the length of my arms.