The Weight of Rain Read Online Free PDF Page B

seventeenth century, all fruit was referred to as an apple besides berries and nuts.”
    “That really doesn’t change anything.”
    “I know, but I didn’t think I’d ever be able to use that useless fact again, and you just happened to set the perfect stage for me.”
    I release a deep breath and drop my head to her shoulder, not having the energy to continue this conversation. “You’re so weird.”
    “It’s why you love me.”
    “Something like that.”
    “Come on. I’ll let you pick the movie this time. I’ve got my mind made up on this. We’re going.”
    “And you can’t let go, because you’re killing every second till it saves your soul.”
    Charleigh growls as she stands from my bed. “You know I hate when you do that! That song is going to be in my head for days.”
    I’m not in the mood to be around anyone, even Charleigh, but I grudgingly stand up and grab a clean hoodie from my closet. As much as I don’t want to see anyone, I know if I see Kenzie, I may lose my shit and actually punch her after the afternoon I’ve endured with Mercedes and her crazy amounts of attitude and sidelong glances that kept mocking me.

 
    “L AUREN !”
    I turn from where I’m holding an empty laundry basket midair, staring at one of the thousand piles of laundry that literally cover this house. My eyes find Mercedes and dance over the too-short skirt she’s wearing over a pair of tights, which are covered with stripes in every color, and a black T-shirt that says “It’s hard being a ten” and is covered in rhinestones and skulls. When my eyes meet hers, they’re narrowed again, her hands back on her slender hips. I have been babysitting for three weeks now, and little has changed between us. I grew up having only an older brother and an often times aloof father. My brother and I helped our dad from the time we were young, doing chores that included taking care of the land and the animals because there was always more work than hands. We had several men who worked on the farm for my father, and a woman named Nell who lived with her husband Alan—our foreman who takes care of the animals and machinery—in a small home situated an acre away from our house. Nell is great. She’s been around since before I was born and has played a large role in my life, participating in events my mom missed with her frequent absences. Our 300-acre cattle farm lies between Helena and Missoula, and although the town I grew up in is small, both nearby cities were large enough that I have seen and experienced a lot of people in my life. But I’ve never dealt with anyone quite like Mercedes.
    Over the past few weeks, there have been moments when I’ve wanted to get an inch from her face and start screaming at her for acting so rude. Other times that I’ve wanted to walk away and quit. Then there have been moments when I have realized this ten-year-old girl who is acting like nothing in the world phases her, is trying to be tough for reasons I don’t understand, and it worries me that she will become hardened for life. Cold and ignorant to all of the small beauties and blessings that too many already miss. Those small windows are why I’ve lasted this long. Well, that and the fact that I’m making double what I was.
    “You’re not paying attention. I almost hit you in the face!” Mercedes’ voice comes out petulant, her face distorted with anger.
    “Yeah, I’m done.” I drop the empty laundry basket she’s been aiming a miniature basketball at. Her chin juts out, becoming more prominent as she clenches her jaw. “Why don’t we clean up some?”
    “I’m not done,” she says, keeping her face locked in a silent threat.
    “Well, then you’re going to have to find out if you have an actual basketball hoop that goes with your ball. If we start cleaning, we might find it by next week.”
    “You’re not funny.”
    “Good, I wasn’t trying to be.” Growing up, my room usually resembled the aftermath of a