Breaking Nova Read Online Free PDF

job at the moment, due to the fact I failed a random drug test at the last job, and I had a bad track record of getting fired. Not knowing what else to do, I’d called up Tristan. We used to be friends when we were younger… before everything happened… before I killed Ryder, his sister. I felt like a dick for calling him, but I remembered him being nice, and he even talked to me after the funeral, even though his parents no longer would. He seemed reluctant, but he agreed, and a couple of days later I packed up my shit, bought a ticket, and headed for my temporary new home.
    “Dude, for the millionth time, you’re good, so stop thanking me.” Tristan picks up the last box out of the trunk of his car.
    “Are you sure, though?” I ask again, because it never really seems like I can ask enough. “I mean, with me staying here, especially after… everything.”
    “I told you on the phone that I was.” He shifts his weight, moving the box to his free arm, and then scratches the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Look, I’m good, okay? You can stay here until you can get your feet on the ground or whatever… I’m not going to just let you live out on the streets. Ryder wouldn’t have wanted that, either.” He almost chokes on her name and then clears his throat a thousand times.
    I’m not sure I agree with him. Ryder and I were never that close, but I’m not going to bring that up, considering things have already gotten really awkward and I’ve only been here for like five minutes.
    “Yeah, but what about your parents?” I ask. His parents insist that the accident was my fault and that I should have been driving more safely. They told me that I ruined their family, killed their daughter.
    “What about them?” His voice is a little tight.
    “Won’t they be pissed when they find out I’m living with you?”
    He slams the trunk down. “How are they going to find out? They never talk to me. In fact they’ve pretty much disowned me and my lifestyle.” I start to protest, but he cuts me off. “Look, you’re good. They never stop by. I barely talk to them. So can you please just chill out and enjoy your new home?” He heads for the gate and I follow. “I do have to say, though, that it probably would have been better if you drove out here. Now you’re stranded if you want to go anywhere.”
    “It’s better that way.” I adjust the handle of the bag over my shoulder and we walk toward a single-wide trailer. The siding is falling off, one of the windows is covered with a piece of plywood, and the lawn is nonexistent; instead there’s a layer of gravel, then a fence, followed by more gravel. It’s a total crack house, but that’s okay. This is the kind of place where I belong, in a place no one wants to admit exists, just like they don’t want to admit I exist.
    “You know there’s no bus here, right?” He steps onto the stairway, and it wobbles underneath his feet. “It’s a freaking small-ass town.”
    “That’s okay.” I follow him with my thumb hitched under the handle of my bag. “I’ll just walk everywhere.”
    He laughs, shifting the box to one arm so he can open the screen door. “Okay, if you say so.” He steps inside the house, and I catch the screen door with my foot, grab the handle, and hold the door open as I maneuver my way inside.
    The first thing I notice is the smell; smoky but with a seasoned kick to it that burns the back of my throat. It’s familiar, and suddenly I feel right at home. My eyes sweep the room and I spot the joint burning in the ashtray on a cracked coffee table.
    Tristan drops the box on the floor, steps over it and strides up to the ashtray. “You good with this?” He picks up the joint and pinches it in between his fingers. “I can’t remember if you’re cool or not.”
    It’s not really a question. It’s more of a warning that I have to be cool with it if I’m going to live here. I let the handle of the bag slide down my arm and it falls to