The Golden Boys by Rachel Jonas EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Rachel Jonas
- Language: English
- Genre: Coming of Age Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
—JUNE, FOUR MONTHS LATER—
BLUE
Crumpling her written words lifts a weight.
It’s something I should’ve done the morning I found this very sheet of
coffee-stained paper taped to my door. Instead, I’d folded it neatly and placed
it inside my wallet, like a tiny shrine I carry with me wherever I go.
I’ve always pined over the scraps of love she leaves behind, littered
throughout my life. Then, at the worst possible times, I stumble across them
again. Like now, while an epic party rages all around me and I forego a
perfectly good opportunity to just be young and free.
Why? Because
rummaging through my clutch for a stick of gum led me to this note and I’m
suddenly stuck, contemplating Mom’s twisted version of love. I should be
chatting up some cute guy, or dancing like the world is ending tomorrow, but
nope.
“Found you! Looks like my hoe-bag radar is still spot on,” Jules slurs.
A smile replaces my true expression so quickly it’s scary.
“You say such sweet things,” I tease back, smoothing both palms down
the white, linen shorts she insisted I borrow. They were part of a package
deal—black tank, black heels and silver hoops included. The only visible
article that actually does belong to me is my clutch.
More playful than usual, Jules gently tugs the blonde, fishtail braid on my
shoulder. She’d styled it for me while we waited for our ride a few hours ago.
Could’ve done it myself, but this stupid splint on my finger makes the simple
things practically impossible.
For future reference, the downside of punching someone in the face is the
fractured knuckle that comes along with it. But I gotta be honest; it was so
worth it. Even if it did result in an end-of-year expulsion and nearly cost me
my impending shot at Cypress Prep.
It isn’t something I’d do again, but also isn’t something I regret.
Taking note of Jules’ glassy eyes, her intoxication means I’ve failed. It
was on me to make sure she didn’t get out of hand tonight, but finding the
letter served as the perfect distraction.
“Whoa! Where’d you come from?” she hiccups, speaking directly to the
brick wall she’s clumsily stumbled into.
My hand shoots out to steady the klutzy red-head now leaning beside me.
She’s lucky I have quick reflexes.
“Enjoying yourself yet?” she asks reluctantly. “I know you’d rather be at
the court or something, instead of hanging on the north side, but I think
tonight’s important.”
“So you keep telling me,” I murmur.
Her eyes dart to the back of her head when she rolls them. “Because Jules
knows best,” she so readily reminds me.
This—the party scene, these clothes, the lashes and makeup—it’s all her
thing, not mine. Especially in this part of town.
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