Charming Read Online Free PDF Page A

grim reality.
    “You going to take his advice?”
    “I haven’t figured it out yet. With him involving Dad, it’s kind of tricky.”
    Christine brought the hideous thing to her plump, pale lips, then pulled away before she could take a hit. “I almost forgot. Tell me about Chris… every detail.”
    “He’s an ass, Christine. Don’t make me waste my breath on him.”
    “You’re no fun, you know that?” The joint crackled and glowed bright red in the night as Christine sucked in a huge hit, a dramatic thing that warned Haley this hit was for her.
    Rolling her eyes, she said, “Don’t tell me I’m a disappointment to you today, too. I don’t think I can handle being Ruiner of Lives. It’s too harsh.”
    “You’re not a Ruiner of Lives. But you really should try letting your guard down a little, at least around friends.” Christine stood under the streetlamp, the road desolate, empty of cars at this late hour, yet still full of that all watching eyes feeling that made Haley peek at her house to see if anyone was actually watching.
    Lights were on inside, but the windows were miraculously free of fatherly-like shadows.
    “Coming over?” Christine dropped the remainder of her joint and squashed it beneath her black boots.
    Rubbing her hands up and down her arms to ward off the chill, Haley nodded. “Just have to be home by midnight.”
    Haley waved hello to Christine’s parents as she entered the modest house decorated with fifties-style chairs and tables, thin things uncomfortable for sitting and large wooden things too large for the small space. Neither of them noticed. They were too busy staring at the TV, listening to reporters spout off the same details about the thirty-five year-old cable company employee who’d washed up on the river bank.
    “That poor family attends our church,” Mrs. Michaels said, shaking her head. “I should do something. Isabel must be a wreck trying to explain this to her three children. All of them are under the age of ten too.”
    Mr. Michaels grabbed his wife’s hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “You should bake a casserole.”
    Christine snorted. “We’ll be in my room.”
    The girls beelined for the basement, a place where Christine covered termite-infested wood with posters of boys she only loved because they could sing. She’d hung strands of LED star lights at the bottom of the stairs and installed a patchwork of brightly colored rugs along the dank concrete floor. The only time anyone bothered her in this little haven is when they needed to do laundry, but usually she’d collect the bins and wash and fold everything before her parents needed to invade her privacy.
    Right. She never let her guard down. The only thing she did was get high to avoid the piercing, judgmental stares of her controlling and critical parents, parents who forced their daughter to have an abortion even though she didn’t want one, parents who threatened to press charges against her eighteen-year-old boyfriend if his parents didn’t relocate him. The Michaels family cared more about what others thought of them rather than what they thought of themselves. They didn’t think about what harm their rash actions would cause Christine.
    Haley fell backward on Christine’s shiny, purple comforter and stared up at the newest poster. “Are these boys even teenagers?”
    “Does it matter? They have voices of gods and money to match. Just like your Chris.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding. He doesn’t have the voice of a god.”
    Christine nudged Haley’s ribs, earning a rare giggle. “I bet he’d be willing to serenade you.”
    “Please. He just likes to give me shit.”
    Christine lit up another joint, then offered it to Haley.
    “You ever going to learn?”
    “Are you?”
    They fell silent, staring at the ceiling and occasionally frowning at nothing, both drowning in their misery. They spent so many nights like this, alone and silent yet comfortable, both carrying a weight