Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 137572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 688(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 459(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 688(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 459(@300wpm)
Read Online Books/Novels: | Rebel at Spruce High - Spruce Texas Romance |
|---|---|
Author/Writer of Book/Novel: | Daryl Banner |
| Language: | English |
| Book Information: | |
REBEL AT SPRUCE HIGH is the next upcoming book in the Spruce, Texas series. It follows introverted gamer and Biggie's Bites employee Toby as he enters his senior year at Spruce High. The arrival of a gorgeous, leather-jacket-clad new student has the whole high school abuzz with rumors and scandal - especially when the bad boy sets his eyes on Toby. | |
| Books by Author: | Daryl Banner |
PROLOGUE
Yep, that’s me, the big loser on the cafeteria floor painted in yogurt and mashed potatoes. Shouts and screams ring out. Lunch trays fly overhead like big plastic seagulls in slow motion. Distant fire alarms blare, unnoticed, lost in the cacophony of noise.
I can’t say this is my proudest moment.
Nor is this how I expected my first day of senior year to go.
But Spruce High is as unpredictable as it is ruthless. And when a gorgeous, leather-jacket-clad Adonis struts in through its doors, the new bad boy in town, owning the halls and taking names, you kinda don’t expect to fall in love with him at first sight.
And then for him to pelt you in the face with a cup of yogurt.
Is it too soon to call it true love?
To get the full picture of what’s going on in this lunch-room explosion of creamy proportions, we have to rewind back to how this dumpster fire of a day began. Before the stunning bad boy attacks me with dairy product. Before the first bell rang. Before I even stepped foot in this school for the first day of my senior year.
Indeed, long before that fire alarm screeched out, a different alarm started this whole mess—the one on my nightstand, which I’m about to unintentionally bitch-slap in three … two … one …
01 | TOBY
When the alarm clock screams at 5:45 AM, my hand acts all on its own in whacking the innocent little thing off the nightstand, sending it flying halfway across the room.
I lift my head off the pillow. “Sorry,” I croak at it.
It’s not its fault the first day of school is already here.
And I intend to make short work of it as I peel myself out of bed in just a pair of black briefs and pad over to the window to get a look across the yard. The looming, eerie darkness from the main house indicates no one’s up yet.
I take it for a sign that I ought to hurry through my morning routine before someone else’s alarm clock goes off. Avoiding the stepbrother and his toxically-masculine beef-for-brains dad is a goal I just might be able to make—if I’m efficient with my time.
After pulling on a pair of hopefully-clean socks I fish out of a pile on the floor, it suddenly hits me that I haven’t checked my go-to Gaymer forum in days. Figuring I have a minute to spare, I drop into my desk chair, flick on the monitor, and navigate to the site. Ugh, still no news of when Dread Knight II will be released, which is frustrating, since DarkClone Games was supposed to announce the date two months ago. Now the whole summer has come and gone, and still nothing. I swear, if I ever run my own gaming company, I’ll never leave my loyal fans in the dust for so long like this.
Maybe if I had my own company, that could be my ticket out of this charming tar pit of a town that is Spruce, Texas.
More awake now, I turn off my computer with a huff, then quickly dive into my closet in search of something to wear. It isn’t so much of a closet as it is a stack of shelves and a dresser shoved into the corner, right next to a few hooks in the wall that used to house a shovel, rake, and rusty hoe, but now hold a few of my clothes on wire hangers.
Voluntarily banishing oneself to the makeshift “guesthouse” (it’s actually a renovated toolshed) has its perks. Namely: I feel like I’m living on my own, and I can come and go as I please. Not that anyone notices if I’m here anyway. It only gets bad in the winter, since these thin walls aren’t exactly braced for cold weather. But except for not having a bathroom or kitchen, it’s basically a one-room tiny house all on its own, complete with electricity, a small flat-screen TV and computer, my twin bed, a Super Mario rug in the shape of Mario’s giant mustached face, a ceiling fan that only sometimes chooses not to work, a skinny single-pane window, and a creaky red door with a functioning lock. How sweet is that? I barely even miss my old bedroom in the main house, which is … regrettably occupied by someone else now.
I have to remind myself sometimes that I chose this. I wanted my own space. I wanted out of that house. I gave my room to my stepbrother. Like I said: barely even miss it. Barely.
I push aside my Biggie’s Bites apron (my weekend job), brush away a red-and-black Mortal Kombat hoodie I won’t touch until December, and finally find a pair of black shorts to wear. I select a light blue Tetris t-shirt as well, then finish today’s look with my favorite pair of matching high-top sneakers. With a glimpse in a body-length mirror leaning against the wall with a couple pairs of striped socks hanging over its top, I decide I look generic enough to fade into the crowd. I stuff everything I need into my backpack, including my lucky plush moogle doll, which is a creature that looks like a chubby white tailless cat with a pudgy pink nose, tiny purple bat wings, and a yellow pompom bobbing over its cute head from a whisker-like antenna. I flick off my lights and shove my way out of the shed.