Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 93312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
I’d rather scoop my eyeballs out with a spoon.
Part of me is dying for a sliver of normalcy. Volleyball is something I’m good at. Something familiar, and something I enjoy. But the bigger part of me doesn’t want to deal with everything that comes along with it.
I pull out my notebook and a pen, taking a quick glance around to make sure no one is paying me any attention before I open it to a blank page. Keeping my head low, my hair acts as a curtain, and I drown out the announcements as I write.
A piece of paper taped to my locker has dread unfurling in my stomach. I should’ve known I wouldn’t be able to fly under the radar. I march toward my locker, seeing the words written there.
What do Shayne Courtland and cockroaches have in common?
I rip it off, turning it over, expecting to find the punch line, but nothing is there. I hear snickers and look over to see Taylor and Alexis watching me with amused expressions. “Good one,” I deadpan, crumpling up the piece of paper before dropping it to the floor. They’re losing their touch. Their insults used to be witty, but this one doesn’t even make sense. I spin the dial, putting in my combination, and when I jerk my locker open, a bloodcurdling scream rips through my throat.
I jump back, stumbling into someone as dozens of giant cockroaches crawl over each other, spilling out of my locker and onto the floor. I shudder, watching them all over my stuff. I don’t have much in there. An extra jacket, a granola bar, some lip balm. All of which will be trashed.
Another note dangles from inside, catching my attention.
They’re both impossible to get rid of.
My head whips over toward Taylor, but her eyes are wide, horrified, as if she didn’t know what I was going to find. She wouldn’t go near these things. Then, who? My lock is intact, and the actual locker doesn’t appear to be tampered with—on the outside, at least.
Thayer.
He’s the only one besides Valen that would know my combination. The same three numbers I use for every password and every locker. But why? Why would he go out of his way to torment me at school? He doesn’t even go here anymore. Does he really want me gone that badly?
“Damn, Shayne. You really shouldn’t leave food in your locker,” Holden says, coming to stand next to me, leaning in close to my ear. “You’ll get bugs.”
Ah. So, Holden’s doing Thayer’s dirty work. A nasty retort is on the tip of my tongue, but I keep it inside, settling for a glare instead. They want me to cry and run away. They want a reaction. And I’m not going to give it to them.
“Who did this?” Mr. Beeney, one of the science teachers, demands, running toward us with what appears to be a small glass aquarium. He drops to his knees, scooping up the cockroaches with his bare hands. “These are Madagascar hissing cockroaches and they are pets, not pests.” Mr. Beeney keeps these in his classroom, and I always avoided looking at them when I had him my freshman year.
“I don’t care what they are. Just get them out of my locker.” My stomach rolls, my lips curling up in disgust as I watch him handle them.
“Now you know how we feel,” Taylor quips. Alexis has the decency to appear contrite, but the rest of their crew acts like it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard.
Something shifts, and I realize that my way of doing things needs to change. Lying low, staying quiet, keeping my head down? It didn’t make it go away. If anything, it made things worse. People like Taylor, Thayer, and Holden prey on the weak.
“Thank you,” I tell her, loving the way her face screws up into a confused expression. “You just made things a whole lot easier.”
“Whatever,” she says, her eyes shifting to the side, unsure of how to respond.
I walk away, leaving Mr. Beeney to take care of his pets, and head straight for the athletic building. Screw Taylor and Alexis. Screw Holden and Thayer. From now on, I’m not going to let them dictate my choices. Starting with talking to the coach about getting back on the volleyball team.
“You’re joking, right?” Taylor snaps, seeing me enter the gym in a tank top and spandex shorts. I put on a sports bra for the first time since getting my piercings, and to my surprise, it doesn’t hurt.
“Nope,” I say innocently, tightening my ponytail. “Feels good to be back.” Actually, it does feel good, if not slightly terrifying. But I’m going to fake it ’til I make it. I talked to the coach last week, and taking into consideration the details of why I quit last year, he was more than happy to let me back on the team. Of course, I have to try out as a formality, but we both know I’ll make it.