The Last Hero (Book 1): Ultra Read Online Free

met.”
    “Facebook met?”
    “We’ve chatted on Facebook.”
    “So you haven’t actually met?”
    “We’re in the process of meeting, man. Besides, it’s closer than any of you two’s got to any action.”
    He put his phone away. Me nor Damon couldn’t exactly argue.
    As I watched Avi return to his game, I couldn’t shake that minuscule irritation once again. A bad kind of irritation. But I felt something like jealousy. Jealousy that my friend, who I was no more nerdy than, less so if anything, had been chatting to a girl.
    “How’d that come about?” I asked.
    “Miri? Oh, I just saw her on Instagram. Thought she was cute. We got chatting.”
    “Wait,” I said, shaking my head. “Am I in some alternate reality? You followed a girl on Instagram who you thought was cute and you… you got chatting?”
    “I just believed in myself, man. Believe in yourself some more. Girls like that. Everyone likes that. When you believe, you can do anything.”
    “Profound.”
    “Plus, I read a hell of a lot of dating blogs.”
    “Ah. That makes more sense.”
    “And I used some foolproof chat up lines from the top reviewed online dating guide on Goodreads.”
    “Again. Making much more sense. I’d like to see you use that in person.”
    “4.6 stars, man. 4.6 stars out of 5. Da-ting book of the year.”
    Again, I kind of felt cheated that I hadn’t thought to read a book like that myself. Maybe Avi was right. Maybe I did just need to loosen up, believe in myself a little more.
    I was mulling over the thought of asking Ellicia out—as impossible as that was—when my phone buzzed.
    I read the message. And as I read it, I felt sicker—somehow—than I had for the entire day.
    “You okay, dude?” Damon asked. “Gone pale.”
    I put the phone down. Swallowed a lump in my throat. “Yeah, I…” I stood up. Headed toward Avi’s door.
    “Skids?” Avi asked. “Where you headed?”
    I got ready to leave Avi’s house, the truth of the message sending nerves tingling through my stomach. “Sorry, guys. It’s been fun. But there’s somewhere I need to be right now.”
    “Can’t it wait?”
    I wished it could.

4
    W hen I walked into my Staten Island home, I knew right away what I was going to face.
    The walls of the hallway were dark, and the wallpaper was curling at the edges. As I walked past them, I tried not to look at the photographs pinned up to the wall. Some people liked to be reminded of times they’d once had. Of the things they’d lost. But I didn’t. I didn’t like being reminded of the day my parents’ lives tore apart. The day that changed my life, forever.
    I could hear crying in the kitchen. Mumbling. I knew without seeing that it was Mom. I held my breath as I pushed open the kitchen door. It wasn’t that I didn’t know what I was going to face. Nobody could accuse me of not being prepared.
    But it never got easier.
    Grief never got easier.
    That was something I had come to understand in my sixteen mostly miserable years on this planet.
    Mom was on her knees. She was sweeping something from the kitchen floor. It looked like the remnants of a smashed dinner plate. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.
    “Mom?”
    She looked up. Stopped sweeping right away. She forced a smile, quickly wiped the tears from her eyes as if it’d cover up the fact she’d been crying effectively. Her light brown hair hung limply by the sides of her head. She looked older, more wrinkled, every time I saw her. Her skin was pale like she desperately needed a holiday. She never dressed up—right now she was in gray joggers and a white T-shirt, which had turned a shade yellow. “Kyle,” she said. “He’s… He’s… I can’t…”
    “Where is he?”
    “In the living room,” Mom whispered. “I just don’t think I can watch him do this anymore. I don’t think I can handle it.”
    I felt my stomach sinking when I heard the upset in Mom’s voice. I walked over to her. Hugged her. It felt nice when she