Thursday, March 10, 2016

Need a weekend read? How about one for only 99 cents....

Still haven't read The Art of Being Indifferent? Wet your whistle with an excerpt today: 



“No. Sorry.” I put my hands out. “I’m just… I dunno, getting to know you. Small talk.”

Her expression softened. “Sorry. Guess I’m used to people coming down on me.”

“I can relate.” I chucked another rock towards the water. “But seriously, you’re smart. Like, really smart. You could become anything. What would it be? A doctor? A lawyer?”

“Whatever.” Posey snorted. “How many doctors do you know that were former foster kids?”

My insides twisted even more. Is that what she thought of herself? That she was just a foster kid, and nothing more? “Come on,” I argued. “Don’t let that define you. I don’t let the fact that my dad’s an asshole define me.”

“Fine.” She looked at me through the corner of her eye. “A music teacher.”

My head snapped in her direction. “A what?”

Again, Posey grinned, and I caught a glimpse of that dimple. Hells bells, that thing was going to be the death of me. “Keep up, Drew,” she said, laughing. “I would be a music teacher. Probably for grade school kids. I love music. Sometimes…” She took a deep breath, and tugged her iPod out of her pocket.
“Sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps me hanging on. I keep it with me all the time.”

“Really?”

Posey was infinitely deeper than I’d given her credit for. Beneath the emo-girl top layer there were layers and layers of emotion and intelligence that nobody else at school got to see. It really sucked, too. If they knew how cool Posey was, they would feel like complete tools.

“Yeah, really.” She nodded. “What about you, Golden Boy? What keeps you hanging on? What do you want to do with your life? Besides get away from your dad?”

“What keeps me hanging on?” I looked up at the sky, once again grey and filled with clouds. “Swimming, I guess. I mean, I didn’t choose it for myself. My dad sort of chose it for me. But… I’m good at it. And when I do it, I feel strong. Powerful.” I felt Posey’s gaze on me, and ignored the way my stomach clenched.

“When I’m in the water, I can’t hear anything. I don’t hear my teachers, or my mom, or the coach, or my dad. I just hear my thoughts. And it’s perfect.”

“It’s your escape,” she said softly.

I nodded. “Yup.”

“So what about the future? What do you want to do in the long term?”

Closing my eyes, I tried to picture myself somewhere in my thirties. What the hell was I doing? How the hell was I paying the bills? “I have no idea,” I said finally. “I’ve never thought beyond swimming until I get that scholarship. I can see myself in college. Walking to classes and studying into the night, and all that crap. But I have no idea what the end result will be. I keep hoping that once I am away from here, away from him, I’ll be able to figure it out.”

I didn’t have to explain who I was talking about. Posey knew. And she was the only person in the world who actually got it.

“I’m sure you will.” She tugged her hand free of my hoodie, and patted my knee. “I have no doubt about it.”

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