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)
Shit, I really am awful.
I hide out in the art room until the bell rings and I’m tempted to stay here but Mrs. Miles boots me out the door. I somehow make it through my first few classes of the day, and just when I think I’ll be alright, lunch comes around.
I head into the cafeteria while taking a bite out of an apple. I don’t know how this is going to go. It feels like the first day with nowhere to sit all over again, though I’m pleasantly surprised to see people giving me welcoming smiles and wordlessly inviting me in.
I ignore each and every one of them. Who knows what their intentions are. I’ve just got through one betrayal, I don’t need to be inviting more in.
I scan the room and my eyes stop at a lone table. The computer geeks usually sit there but they must be caught up in the library today as their table is screaming out for me. I make my way toward it only to have Nessa stop right in front of me and slam her hands into my chest, making my apple go flying out of my hand and smash into three equal pieces on the floor.
“Tell me you did not just do that,” I say, maybe a little too loud as I glance up from my destroyed apple while my stomach growls with hunger, making me regret the decision to leave early without having breakfast.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“Excuse me?” I ask, my brows furrowing in confusion. I mean, I’m pretty sure I haven’t fucked around with her yet. She was next week’s plan but if she wants to bring this shit forward it’s my pleasure. I’m not usually one to approve of these sorts of schedule changes on such short notice, but today, I think I’ll let it slide.
Nessa steps toward me and raises her chin, attempting to seem taller despite her barely reaching my nose. “I don’t repeat myself for trash like you. What are you still doing here? My man made it pretty damn clear on day one that you don’t belong and now you’re going around causing problems for everyone.”
“Day one,” I say as though I can hardly remember it despite Slade’s body pressing against mine with his breath tickling my skin being the very thing that I’ve been struggling to get out of my mind. “Day one…oh, that’s right. Was that the day you weren’t here and clearly have no fucking idea what you’re talking about?”
“Wait…I”
“Yeah, I remember now. You told everyone you were partying on some rich dude’s yacht but really what you forgot was that Kathleen Harris is best friends with your neighbor, and your mom told her mom that you had a rash, you know,” I say, dropping my eyes to her lady bits. “Down there. I wonder, did you get that from Slade or from someone else? Oh, it had to be someone else. I get the impression that Slade doesn’t fuck dirty bitches. Maybe that’s why he was screwing Maze on Friday night instead.”
Her face drops and I watch with delight as her jaw clenches. Damn right, bitch. You can’t fuck with the queen.
“You’re such a liar. Slade was with me on Friday night,” she says just a little louder, making sure everyone hears.
“Oh, so he has your dirty rash too?” I ask, despite already knowing the truth, but seriously, this shit is too good to pass up. “Damn, you better be sure to give him your doctor’s number. He’ll be needing it.”
“What’s your problem?” she screeches. “Just leave. No one wants you here.”
“I don’t have a problem, Vanessa. You’re the one who came to me, remember. You’re the one with control issues here. So, tell me, what’s your problem? You know, apart from your rash.”
Her eyes flare as she pushes me again but this time I’m ready and stand my ground. “You’re my problem. You come in here, acting all high and mighty as though we should all bow down at your feet, but you’re nothing. We all saw your little freak out over that stupid knife. Which reminds me, what’s up with your brother? Is he your little lap dog or something? If you tell him to sit, is he a good little boy? Does he bark and fetch too?”
“I’m struggling to figure out what your point is. Have you made it yet or do you just like the sound of your own voice?”
“You’re a bitch and a liar,” she says. “Everyone knows your sob story about your parents is bullshit. I saw you at the mall with your mom last week. They’re perfectly alive,” she turns to the crowd around us. “That’s right, people,” she says a little louder. “This bitch made up some bullshit story about watching her parents being murdered, but what gets me is why? What do you gain out of making up such a ridiculous lie? Popularity? Friends? Sympathy? What a fucking joke.”