Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
He was so mad, he spat as he spoke. I watched the saliva flying out of his mouth, illuminated by the Victorian lamppost.
“Last time I figured this was an attack from a rival team to keep him from playing. Eliminate the competition.” Vicious took another drag and spat near one of the meatheads on the end with a red varsity jacket and a baseball cap turned backwards. “But Trent’s graduating. No reason for another team to take him out now.”
Some of the teens were crying as they looked down to the dewy grass, and some were moaning in pain. They weren’t bleeding, they didn’t look beaten up. Well, not physically, anyway. But Jesus, this kid was as fucking intimidating as Satan himself.
“I. Will. Find the fucker who greased the floor!” he shouted.
The jocks on their feet behind him roared, pumping their fists in the air. Jaime, Dean, and Trent were still deep in conversation. Luckily, they weren’t feeding the troll.
“I WILL punish the motherfucker,” Vicious screamed maniacally, thumbing his chest and looking around for support.
“Fuck yeah!” The jocks raised their hands, slurring into the night.
“And by the time we’re done with him, he will be sorry his whore of a mother ever gave birth to him!”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!”
I had chills up and down my arms. I hated Baron Spencer. According to Coach Rowland, he wasn’t even a very good football player, and I doubted he cared about the team that much. No. This whole nightmare of a night was orchestrated because he was a sadistic, violent fuck.
My mother yanked my white blouse and gritted, “I know some of these kids. They go to All Saints High. They are your students, Melody. You can’t let this happen.”
“The screaming one in the skinny jeans is Baron Spencer,” I whispered back. “His daddy owns this town.”
“Doesn’t matter.” My father shook his head, resting his hand on my shoulder. It felt so much heavier than it actually was, and I knew why. “This is about your integrity, Mel.”
Oh, fuck. That old thing.
I knew I had to step in. I also knew I was about to be royally humiliated in front of my parents. Vicious feared me just a little less than he feared a Chihuahua in a pink tutu. Meaning, he wouldn’t give a damn about me butting into this mess.
I crossed the road on shaky legs. Vicious’s ruthless voice was still booming in my ears, getting louder with each step I took. My spine crackled, but I moved forward.
“Rat out the asshole who’s responsible, or each and every one of you fuckers goes back home with a permanent mark.” He pointed his cigarette at his potential victims. A few ballers behind them hauled them up to their feet by their hair, and the captives cried in agony.
Vicious stopped in front of a heavy guy, who had tried to make it onto the football team last year, and inched the burning ember of his cigarette toward the guy’s forehead.
They are your students, Melody. You can’t let this happen.
My dad was right.
“Baron!” I hurried, lightly jogging from the crosswalk into Liberty Park. He was not going to hurt the kid. Not on my shift.
Vicious didn’t even have the courtesy to turn around and check to see who called him. “Take all suspects to the gazebo behind the parking lot for interrogation.” His voice was clipped and low.
That gazebo was isolated, a deserted, scary place where no one set foot at night. Bastard had a touch. No surprises there.
“Baron Spencer!” I raised my voice, only a few feet away from him now. Some of the students cleared out of the way for me, but the majority just snickered as I raced toward the teenager from hell. They were more scared of him than they were of me. I couldn’t blame them. “Stop this immediately! Let these boys go!”
When I reached him, he finally turned around, his face painted with boredom and pity.
When I didn’t back down, his expression darkened. Vicious might not be as beautiful as Jaime, Trent, and Dean, but he somehow had the most memorable face. He looked like a guy whose shit list you didn’t want to be on. I swallowed hard, hating myself for feeling intimidated by him.
“I’m sorry, remind me who the fuck you are?”
Of course he knew who I was. I taught him Lit every day, which is what made everyone around us laugh, pointing their beer bottles and Solo cups at me. Even his fucking captives chuckled.
I’m doing this for you, assholes.
Heat spread up my neck, and my hand tightened around my anchor necklace, as it did every time anger washed over me. I did everything in my power not to look at Jaime, because I was afraid to see what was written on his face. Was he laughing at me like all the rest?