Always The Quiet Ones – Jamie Lee Sogn (1)

Also from Simon. It reads, hey nerd, why are you working this late? I can’t help but laugh out loud. Damn, I forgot my online indicator was on and showing green. I was thinking the same about you, I write back. Look at us overachievers. I’m not responding to your email right now. Plz dont. I’m signing off. But if you read it and have thoughts you can text @ the number on my sig line. I scroll down to his name and number. Simon Woodward. I read the message again and wonder if I’m misinterpreting, or if he was inviting me to text him about nonwork things too?

I put the number into my phone and then simply thumbs-up his message. Then I sign off. He’s cute, sure, but I’m not in the mood right now. Not after Greg. Not after Landon. I lie back, and my mind drifts to a time when I might have wanted to pursue something with Simon. Or anyone, for that matter.

I haven’t had a crush in years, a decade or more. And that crush? It ruined my life and the lives of everyone around me. After an especially bad night out, Mom came to get me from the city jail. She arrived at almost four in the morning in jeans, a pressed blouse, and a jacket, her hair and makeup done.

She had made sure to make herself presentable before bailing out her delinquent child. Her seventeen-year-old daughter had been lying on a concrete bench after being in the vicinity of some kids accused of attempting to rob a gas station. “What’s wrong with you?” she demanded when we arrived home. “It was a mistake. I wasn’t doing anything!” “Those hoodlums are troublemakers, and they’re turning you into a criminal, just like them!”

I laughed right in her face to show her I didn’t care. “Hoodlums? Are we in the fifties?” “Say something to your daughter,” she screamed at Dad. Dad sat sullen at the kitchen table. “You smell like pot” was all he had to add. I spread my arms wide. “They’re my friends. They understand me, unlike you.”

“They’re a bad influence. Especially that punk boy.” “Caleb? He’s not a punk boy. He listens to me more than either of you ever has. My friends care more about me than my own family.” “Is that why, when they got caught stealing, they ran and left you at a 7- Eleven to get picked up by the cops?” “Whatever,” I mumbled, fleeing to my room.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Otherwise, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Text copyright © 2025 by Jamie Lee Sogn All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. Published by Lake Union Publishing, Seattle www.apub.com Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Lake Union Publishing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates. EU product safety contact: Amazon Media EU S. à r.l. 38, avenue John F. Kennedy, L-1855 Luxembourg [email protected] ISBN-13: 9781662520051 (hardcover) ISBN-13: 9781662520068 (paperback) ISBN-13: 9781662520044 (digital) Cover design by Caroline Johnson Cover image: © Jesse Morrow / Stocksy; © New Africa / Shutterstock First edition 1kitap1.com/en To Danielle, my Sea Star and my dearest friend 1kitap1.com/en Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Acknowledgments About the Author 1kitap1.com/en Chapter 1 Monday Some days it astonishes me how much effort it takes to be alive.

It’s my normal morning routine. Every day for years now, I’ve lined up the bottles in my medicine cabinet, then gone through them one by one until I have all the pretty pills in my palm. It looks like a lot, but it’s not nearly as much as I used to take; now I can swallow them all in one go.

I don’t even get sick from them anymore; that is, unless I miss a dose, and I hardly ever do. On my worst days, these little colorful ovals and circles simply prop me up and help me get through the hours so I can get back into bed as soon as possible.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 36ab0307bdbb3a5a
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 3,262,261 bytes (3.111 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• ISBN: 9781662520051, 9781662520068, 9781662520044
• Pages: 208
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 357.94 minutes
• Total Words: 71,589
• Total Characters: 379,419
• Average Words per Page: 344.18
• Average Characters per Page: 1824.13

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