Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
The moment I step outside, I inhale a fresh lungful of air and walk to the parking lot before weaving my way to the G-wagon. For the second day in a row, there aren’t eggs or shaving cream decorating the hood and windshield. The heavy coils of anxiety wrapping their way around me, loosen just a bit.
From the corner of my eye, I catch a group of girls staring. I turn my head more fully only to meet Sloane’s narrowed gaze. Four of her friends are standing with her. They’re all wearing matching bitchy expressions. These are the kind of girls I was careful to avoid back home. I had Sloane pegged from the first time I saw her at Rothchild’s and her behavior hasn’t disappointed.
When the blond continues to track me with her gaze, I flip her the bird. One of her clones sputters in disbelief as I stalk past. With a relieved huff, I click the locks on the SUV and slide behind the wheel. The pumping beat of alternative rock fills the cabin. Twenty minutes of this and I just might feel human again by the time I reach our house.
As I’m about to shift the gear into reverse, someone slaps their palm against the driver’s side window. Stifling a yelp of surprise, I swing around only to find icy blue eyes glaring at me.
Seriously?
Ugh.
This girl needs to get a life and leave me the hell alone.
When I don’t immediately roll down the glass, her scowl deepens, and she smacks her hand against it again.
What the fuck!
I’m surprised she didn’t shatter the window.
I stab the button with my finger and any semblance of safety disappears between us. “What the hell is your problem?”
“You,” she snarls in response. “You’re my problem.”
“How exactly am I your problem?” Before she can answer, I continue. “Did I follow you to your car like a stalker before accosting you?” I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“You need to stop hanging all over Kingsley.” A sneer curls her lip. “It’s pathetic.”
“Is that what I’m doing?” I pretend to ponder her words. “Hanging all over your boyfriend?”
She presses her lips together as a pink stain seeps into her cheeks.
Hmmm. Interesting. I’d wondered if there might be something between them, but obviously that’s not the case or she would be quick to stake her claim. “I mean, he is your boyfriend, right?”
Ignoring my question, she growls, “There’s no way he would ever get with a Hawthorne. All he’s trying to do is make your life miserable.”
Laughter bursts from my lips. I don’t even bother trying to control it.
This girl is legit crazy.
“And your jealous of that? I’m not sure what your definition of pathetic is, but that would be mine.”
A furious rush of color floods Sloane’s face as her minions go silent. When she continues to glower, I decide it’s the perfect time to take off.
“Thanks for clarifying matters. I’m glad we had this little chat.” With that, I stab the button for the window and watch as her eyes widen at my dismissal. Then I jerk the SUV into reverse and stomp on the gas pedal.
The tires squeal as Sloane screams and jumps away from the vehicle. “You almost ran me over, you stupid bitch!”
“My bad!” I yell. “I’ll try not to miss next time!” Then I give her a wave before peeling out of the parking lot.
A smile tickles the corners of my lips as my shoulders shake with silent mirth. Not long after that, a few chuckles slip free. Before I know it, I’m laughing so hard that tears leak from the corners of my eyes. I can barely see the ribbon of road as I drive home. I should probably pull over until the hysteria passes.
I can’t remember the last time I had something to laugh about and it feels amazing. I’m sure Sloane and her minions will make me pay for my insubordination. She’s just another name to add to the growing list of haters. In all honesty, she doesn’t frighten me nearly as much as Kingsley does.
By the time I pull into the driveway, my laughing jag has subsided. With my backpack hitched over one shoulder, I slam out of the SUV and head inside. I stand in the foyer waiting for Mom to call out her normal greeting, but the house remains silent.
“Hello,” I yell.
When there isn’t an answering response, I peek in the study only to find it empty. I backtrack to the entryway and peer out the window, realizing the Volvo isn’t parked in the drive as usual.
I take the stairs two at a time to the second floor before rapping my knuckles against Austin’s closed door. Only now do I realize how much I missed him at school. I was so preoccupied with Kingsley most of the day that I didn’t give much thought to my brother. Remorse rushes in to swamp me.