Falling Harder Read Online Free Page B

Falling Harder
Book: Falling Harder Read Online Free
Author: W. H. Vega
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nice girl. I can tell. I haven’t met many nice
girls.”
    “You seem pretty
nice yourself,” I say, smiling.
    “Eh. I’m OK,”
she shrugs, “Not like I’ve got much to compare myself to. Here, let me get that
for you.”
    She takes my
backpack out of my hands and turns on her heel. I scramble to follow as Conway
marches up the stairs. At least there’s someone in this house who doesn’t seem
to disdain me. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who’s been nice to
me like this off the bat. Could it be possible that I might actually have found
a friend, at last?
    “We get to share
a room,” Conway says over her shoulder, leading me down a narrow hallway,
“It’ll be like having a sleepover! Or...something. I’ve never actually had a
sleepover with anyone, so I wouldn’t know for sure. But we can just pretend, I
guess.”
    She pushes open
a door at the end of the hall and leads me into a little bedroom. A thick,
fruity smell greets me as I step inside. The commingling scents of a dozen body
sprays and shampoos hang heavy in the air. I blink around the space as Conway
switches on a light. My eyes are instantly overwhelmed by the color pink.
Everything I lay eyes on seems to be a shade of the girlish hue.
    “What can I
say,” my companion sighs, “I love pink. I hope you don’t mind...this has been
my room for a while, so I’ve sort of settled in.”
    “How long have
you been with Paul and Nancy?” I ask, settling down onto one of two twin beds
decked out in pink bedding.
    “Uh...three
years?” Conway says, planting herself on the other bed beside me. “Yeah. Three
years. I got here when I was twelve. Before that, I was staying with these
religious nuts a few counties over. Paul and Nancy may have their issues, but
at least they don’t ever try and ship us off to Jesus camp.”
    “Us?” I ask.
    “Didn’t your
social worker tell you anything about this house?” Conway asks.
    “This was kind
of a...hurried arrangement,” I tell her.
    “Oh. Well, there
are two other kids here,” she says, “I’m sure they’ll surface eventually.”
    “Little kids?” I
ask.
    “Nah,” Conway
says, “Paul and Nancy don’t like little kids. They only take in teenagers who
can take care of themselves. We’re more like roommates than anything else,
really. Could be worse, though. Imagine having foster parents who wanted to be
all lovey dovey or whatever. Gross.”
    “I guess you’re
right,” I laugh, “Thank god we’ve been spared that, at least.”
    Our conversation
is suddenly drowned out by a throbbing, pounding sound, coming from somewhere
deep in the house. Conway rolls her eyes and flops back on the bed. I listen
closely, trying to figure out what that insane noise might be.
    “Is
the...uh...house about to explode or something?” I ask warily.
    “Not quite,”
Conway says, rolling on her side to face me, “That’s just the boys.”
    “What are they
doing, construction work?”
    “I like you,”
Conway says, “You’ve got a quick tongue. No, actually. They’re just listening
to music.”
    “That’s music?”
I ask, “It sounds like two vacuum cleaners eating each other.”
    “Come on,” my
new friend says, lacing her fingers with mine, “See for yourself.”
    The simple act
of holding hands sparks something bittersweet inside of me. Now that I think
about it...I don’t think I’ve been touched in even this simplest way for years.
I’ve been skittish about any kind of contact since Daryl’s unwanted advances at
the Goldstein’s house. You have to be careful, in this kind of environment.
People are scared, and desperate, and lonely. It brings out the worst in some.
    But for whatever
reason, I don’t mind Conway’s touch. In fact...it’s kind of nice. I don’t know
why, but I feel like I can trust her. Imagine that...an actual friend for the
first time in years. Maybe there’s a happy birthday headed my way after all.
    Conway leads me
down the front staircase and down

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