Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 68066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
The one that meant I was still in a buttload of trouble because of none other than Gremlin face, Harley Jameson. She looked just like a Gremlin, and not the cute one, Gizmo. The ugly messed up one, Stripe. Her lips were too big for her face and so were her huge blue eyes. She acted like him too. Always so violent, making snarling noises when she was angry, thinking she was the boss of me. She wasn’t the leader.
Ever.
I was.
Always.
I tried ignoring the disappointed look on my mom’s face as she stared at me through the rearview mirror in our SUV. I hated that look, it made my insides hurt, but not even her upset expression stopped me from fighting with dumbass Harley.
I couldn’t tell you how or when our hatred for each other started. It seemed like it was always there from what everyone had told us. There was something about her stupid face and loud mouth that just got to me.
All. The. Time.
There was no controlling the effect she always had on me.
I. Hated. Her.
More than I hated the vegetables my mom was always trying to make me eat. I never did. I just pretended and when she wasn’t looking, I’d spit them in my napkin and save them for later to use on the nut-kicker.
There was nothing better in all the world than to hold her down and stuff them into her mouth.
“Jackson! Get off me!” she shouted the last time this happened.
“Fat chance, baby girl.”
She hated being called that by anyone other than her daddy.
“I’m not a baby girl!”
I grabbed her hand and used it to slap her own face around. “Harley, stop hitting yourself.”
“Oh my God! Just wait—”
Right when her mouth was wide enough, I stuffed my dried-up broccoli that smelled like rotten eggs in it, and she went crazy. Moving her body every way she could, which wasn’t much, because she was a pee wee girl and I was still sitting on top of her.
She was about to spit them out, but I covered her mouth so she couldn’t.
“Swallow, you butt munch.”
She screamed through my hand.
“I put those little green trees on my nuts, Harley, since you love kicking them so much. How do they feel in your mouth?”
Her eyes widened. I didn’t really do that, but she didn’t have to know I was lying.
“Jackson, are you listening to me?”
“Mmm hmm,” I mumbled, looking out the window with my ear buds in.
“Jackson...”
“Yes, I have it.”
“The good letter?”
“Maybe.”
“Jackson Pierce,” she said in a sterner tone. The one that meant I was walking a thin line of patience with her.
It didn’t matter. I was already grounded again. Because of her.
“Well you made me rewrite it ten times. I’m not sure which is the good letter anymore.”
“Jackson, watch your tone with your mother,” Dad warned, looking at me through the same mirror.
Adults could always have a tone, but when I had one...
I got in trouble, always.
I didn’t reply.
I knew better.
My dad was cool, but I knew what lines I couldn’t cross with him. And disrespecting my mom was number one on that list. Don’t get me wrong, my parents were awesome, especially my dad. He was way better than Harley’s dad, and I reminded her of that all the time.
He was Doctor Aiden Pierce, Chief of Surgery at Dosher Memorial Hospital in Southport. He saved lives every single day, while hers used to put them to ground. That was biker slang for shooting bitches in the face. Her dad was badass, I’ll give her that, but he wasn’t better than mine.
No one’s was.
“I’d like to see the apology letter before you hand it to Harley,” Mom stated, bringing my eyes back to her.
“I still don’t understand why I had to write her a letter. She kicked me in the nuts, remember?”
“She only kicked you because you provoked her,” Jagger added. Making me roll my eyes at my younger brother, who was sitting in the backseat next to me.
“Whose side are you on?” I punched him.
He punched me back.
“Boys! Don’t start!” Mom shouted at us. “I will turn this car around and take you both home so fast. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” we grumbled.
My bro and I got along for the most part, except when it came to Harley. He liked her for some reason, and she didn’t even have boobs.
“Good. Where is the letter, Jackson?”
I ignored Mom’s question, replying, “She can’t jump as high as me off the swings. How is that provoking her?”
“Do not play innocent, young man. You pick on her every chance you get.”
“That’s cuz she’s asking for it every time she opens her mouth on her stupid face.”
“Jackson!”
“What?!” I tore off my ear buds. “You act like it’s always me. It’s not. She starts it half the time. My nuts are probably broken with how many times she’s kicked them, but does anyone care about my balls? Nope!”