Aflame by Penelope Douglas EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: Penelope Douglas
- Genre: Women’s Sagas, Sports Romance, Women’s Friendship Fiction
- Publish Date: 21 April 2015
- Size: 1 MB
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Avail for Download
- Price: Free
Jared
Present Day
Kids are crazy.
Batshit, certifiably, without-a-brain-in-their-head crazy. If
you’re not explaining something to them, then you’re
reexplaining it, because they didn’t listen the first time, and as
soon as you explain it, they ask the same damn question you
just spent twenty minutes explaining the answer to!
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And the questions. Holy fuck, the questions.
Some of these kids talked more in one day than I have in
my entire life, and you can’t get away from it, because they
follow you.
Like, take a hint, you know?
“Jared! I want the blue helmet, and Connor had it last
time, and it’s my turn!” the half-pint blond kid whined from
the track as all the other children climbed into their go-kart
cars, two rows of six each.
I tipped my chin down and inhaled an aggravated breath
as I gripped the fence surrounding the track. “It doesn’t matter
what color helmet you have on,” I growled, tensing every
muscle in my back.
Blondie—what the hell was his name again?—scrunched
up his face, getting redder by the moment. “But . . . but it’s not
fair! He had it two times, and I—”
“Get the black helmet,” I ordered, cutting him off. “It’s
your lucky one, remember?”
He pinched his eyebrows together, his freckled nose
scrunching up. “It is?”
“Yes,” I lied, the hot California sun beating down on my
black-T-shirt-clad shoulders. “You wore it when we flipped in
the buggy three weeks ago. It kept you safe.”
“I thought I was wearing the blue one.”
“Nope. The black,” I lied again. I really had no idea what
color he’d been wearing.
I should feel bad about lying, but I didn’t. When children
got more reasonable, I could stop resorting to rocket science to
get them to do what I wanted them to do. “Hurry up,” I
shouted, hearing little go-kart motors fill the air. “They’re
going to leave without you.”
He ran for the other side of the gate to the shelves of
helmets, snatching up the black one. I watched as all the kids,
ranging in age from five to eight, strapped themselves in and
shot each other excited little thumbs-ups. They gripped their
steering wheels, their thin arms tense, and I felt a grin pull at
the corners of my mouth.
This was the part that wasn’t so bad.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I watched with pride as
they took off, each kid handling his or her car with increasing
precision every week they came here. Their shiny helmets
glistened in the early summer sunshine as the tiny engines
zoomed around the bend and echoed in the distance as they
sped off. Some kids were still pushing the pedal to the metal
for the entire race, but others were learning to measure their
time and assess the road ahead.
Patience was hard to muster
when you just wanted to be in front the entire race, but some
quickly caught on that a good defense was the best offense. It
wasn’t just about getting ahead of that car; it was also about
staying ahead of the cars already behind you.
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