Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“While we’re on the topic,” Maze says, drawing me out of my head and forcing me to concentrate on the numbered lockers. “Stay away from Lachie Dunforth. He’s all talk with not much to show for it. Trust me, I learned that lesson the hard way.”
“Noted.”
I come to a stop in front of the locker with a big ‘1’ and despite not knowing how these lockers were allocated, I’d dare say this is Slade’s. Though, the ‘Cruz’ etched into the metal with what must have been a knife and the imprint of a fist right in the center are also dead giveaways.
I grin to myself. It’s showtime.
I pull my backpack off my back and drop it to the bench before feeling around inside for my trusty paper clip. I stayed up all night on YouTube working out how to do this and the second I slide the end into his lock and give it a jiggle, the cheap padlock pops open.
Maze gawks with pride. “You’re a fucking genius.”
“No,” I say, pulling out my calligraphy powdered ink with a wicked grin. “I’m the fucking devil.”
----------
I sit in the school gymnasium beside Maze, both of us staring at the people around us as they pour in, desperate to get the best seats to watch their favorite team, the Aston Creek Mambas. Apparently, tonight is an important game, though it’s still early in the season. Something tells me it’s only important because the guys who they’re against are dickheads and have been celebrating their win long before it’s due. Something tells me that Slade Cruz isn’t the kind of guy to let a win slip through his fingers. Though that brings the question of how I’ve been so successful.
The gymnasium fills to capacity and the noise in here is ridiculous. It’s only a high school basketball game yet it seems the whole world has shown up to see the Mambas dominate the Hunter’s High Rangers.
I’m surprised the building has what it takes to facilitate such a crowd. From what I can tell, the school seems to throw any spare money at the basketball team, even if it means taking some from other areas. When that happens, I don’t doubt it’s going to be from either the art program, culinary sciences or early childhood classes. That’s just the way the world goes around.
A loud booing begins to echo through the gymnasium and I look down at the door to see the Rangers filing in. They have a huge group with them and it’s clear that they’re all about the show. The guys wear expensive tracksuits which are no doubt covering their uniforms beneath. They have matching shoes and preppy haircuts. Despite how much I hate Slade, these guys are the enemy.
Within seconds, I spot the captain. This is the guy Slade and Damian were talking about on Tuesday during biology, the guy they say is really good. What was his name? Raymond? Rolland? No, Roman. That’s it, Roman Westbrock.
My eyes narrow in curiosity as he leads his team across the empty court. He’s tall, maybe even taller than Slade. His body looks rock hard and the intense darkness behind his eyes tells me that there’s so much more to this guy. It’s sexy in a dangerous kind of way. He’s the guy you’d never bring home to your mother yet the one all the girls flock to for their daddy issues.
The Rangers make their way over to their seats and just as they start peeling off their tracksuits, the Aston Creek High cheerleaders stand and demand the room’s attention. Loud music begins pumping through the gymnasium and the cheer skanks begin shaking their asses and getting into formation.
Whatever it is that they’re doing seems to get everyone in the school spirit and soon enough, the bleachers are rattling with the crowd’s support.
One girl steps upfront and beams at the crowd as though they’re all here just for her. Her platinum blonde hair is perfectly styled with a big blue bow and her cotton-candy lips are plumped and glossed. She’s definitely not my people. There’s no doubt she’s the captain. “Who’s that?” I ask, leaning into Maze’s side.
She looks across at me and then follows my gaze down to the cheerleaders. “That’s Rachel Carter, the captain. She’s Damian’s play toy. At least, she is this week.”
“Rachel?” I ask, testing the name and trying to figure out if she’s someone I need to watch out for. “Not Vanessa?”
“God, no,” she barks. “Nessa wouldn’t be seen dead with pom-poms. Nessa and Rachel are polar opposites. Rachel is so sweet it’s sickening, but don’t get on her bad side because she has a nasty bite, but Nessa, she’s like the female version of Slade.”
“So, where the hell is she? I don’t think I’ve seen her all week.”
Maze shrugs. “Who knows. She has a habit of only showing up when she wants something. The rumor is that she’s been spending the week partying with supermodels on some rich guy’s yacht, but really, I think she’s just been home with diarrhea.”