The Diary of Lexi Ashford (Lexi Ashford: Part One) by Jessica Sorensen Read Free Book Online Page B

your dad’s the sheriff.”
    “Fine. Whatever. Give me ten bucks, and I’ll tell Carrie Lynn you left.”
    When I dig out ten bucks in one dollar bills and change and hand it to him, his face pinches in disgust.
    “Hey, I’m broke, okay?” I point out. “Why do you think I moved back here?”
    “I’m glad to see you haven’t changed.” He rolls his eyes and strolls away, stuffing the change into his pocket.
    “Hey! I’ve changed!” I yell after him, but he just keeps on truckin’.
    After I roll up my window, I hunker down in my seat and spend the next hour hiding from an ex-cheerleader who used to cut up my clothes for fun, all while getting straight As, being homecoming queen, and baking cupcakes for every bake sale.
    Yep, I’m pretty sure I just hit rock bottom.
     

Chapter 8
     
    Nope. I was wrong, this is rock bottom , I think to myself as I look around the loft my parents live in now.
    The maybe thousand square-foot space consists of a bed, a dresser, a fridge, an oven, and a roll-in closet. There’s a door in the corner, which I’m hoping is the bathroom. But I’m kind of worried it might not be and that the shed I saw outside that my dad told me to ignore is really an outhouse, and he just didn’t want to break the news to me.
    “I know it’s not big,” my mom says, her first place ribbon still pinned proudly to her side-tied shirt. “But once the lights are off, it doesn’t seem as small.”
    “That’s what he said.” I heave a sigh, setting my bag down on the floor. Man, I’m making dirty jokes with my parents. I must be losing my damn marbles.
    My dad snorts a laugh and high-fives me while my mom gapes at me in confusion.
    “I don’t get it,” she mumbles with her forehead scrunched.
    “It’s a dirty joke, hon,” my dad explains as he sets down a couple of my boxes he carried in.
    It takes a second, and then her lips form an O . “Oh, I get it. It’s an innuendo for a small penis.” She pats my back. “Sweetie, I hate to break this to you, but even with the lights off, a small penis is still a small penis.” She waggles her brows at my dad. “Of course, I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
    “And on that note.” I make a beeline for the bathroom, slip inside, and shut the door.
    “Hon, you know you can’t say things like penis around her,” my dad says to my mom from the other side of the door. “Remember when you were trying to give her the sex talk? She nearly cried for over an hour.”
    I bang my head against the door.
    “She’s too sensitive,” my mom loudly whispers. “Always has been.”
    Too sensitive? Her sex talk consisted of her using a zucchini and a balloon to demonstrate how to put on a condom, a lesson she picked up while subbing for my high school health teacher.
    When I asked why we were using a balloon instead of a condom, my mom explained, “Your dad and I went roller skating last night, and he wore those short, orange shorts. I couldn’t keep my hands off him, and we ended up using all the condoms.”
    “She needs to get over this,” my mom continues. “She’s twenty-six years old. Penises shouldn’t freak her out anymore. I’m sure she’s seen her fair share of them by now.”
    “I hope not.” My dad sounds appalled. “I hate the idea of my daughter sleeping around.”
    “It’s perfectly for a woman her age to explore her body,” my mom says.
    “Um, hello, I can hear everything you’re saying,” I say to them through the door.
    “That’s nice, honey,” my mom replies. “It’s good your hearing’s so great.”
    Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
    Once I’ve hit a state of Zen where nothing can get to me, not even my parents discussing my sex life and my phobia of the word penis, I turn around to head for the toilet—
    “Holy shit!” I let out a blood-curdling scream as I come face-to-face with hundreds of garden gnomes lining the walls, the counter, the back of the toilet, the shower.
    “Lexi, are you okay?” My dad