Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
This usually means:
1. No girlfriend, which means—contrary to popular belief—I tend to not get laid very often, or not at all, depending on what season it is.
2. No job, which means I have to kiss my dad’s ass when I need cash for something.
3. No life.
Most people assume I don’t participate in school functions because I’m some kind of insensitive asshole, but that’s not the case. The fact is, I don’t have the time—never made the time.
If I’m not at hockey practice, I’m sleeping off hockey practice.
Or eating.
As I’m about to slam the door to my locker shut, I grab a Pop-Tart from the dwindling supply on the top shelf. I have one pack left. Fucking Rick is always eating my shit and never replaces any of it. As I rip the silver wrapper open with my teeth—it’s cherry, by the way, my favorite—I sling my loaded-down backpack over my shoulder and tug my ball cap down over my eyes in an effort to avoid having to stop and talk to my peers, who loiter in the halls. Unfortunately, I’m forced to raise my head and nod to a few people along my way to the cafeteria.
God am I starving.
I’ve almost made it as far as the lunchroom when Alexis Peterson flounces up to me and rests her small hand on my upper arm. I let out a loud groan of frustration, but that doesn’t stop Alexis from latching on. She’s this smallish cheerleader type who appears everywhere she’s not wanted. I mean, hasn’t she heard of personal space? Even though she’s grabbing my arm, she’s bouncing in place on the balls of her feet—you know, like Tigger, only more annoying.
“Hey, Wes, you have practice after school?” she practically purrs, giving me a toothy grin and twirling a lock of her black hair. I notice that she has lipstick on her teeth and battle the urge to curl my lip in disgust.
“Uh yee-ah, Alexis. Just like every single day of the week…” Now, at this point in our short conversation, she’s running her index fingernail up and down my arm, which is bare because I’m wearing a cutoff shirt. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I want to swat her hand off me, but instead I just give my arm a quick shake.
It has no effect on her whatsoever. What is it with this chick? Can’t she take a hint?
Seriously, man, all I want to do is eat…
The cafeteria just behind her is getting crowded, and the lunch line is growing, but Alexis isn’t done with me yet. “So, like, my parents are going to be, like, out of town this weekend…” Her voice trails off meaningfully at the end. I look at the lunch line then impatiently back at Alexis.
What is she freaking talking about?
“Uh yeah,” I say mindlessly, staring straight over her head. “That should be fun. You should throw a party.” From where I’m standing, I can see Erin Blazer and Derek Hanson taking trays at the beginning of the lunch buffet. They’re laughing at something Samantha Granger is saying, and even from here I can see Sam is swatting at them and is royally pissed off. Those two are such dicks.
I stifle a laugh.
“Are you even listening to me?” Alexis pouts, pulling on the front of my shirt like a sulky kid begging for attention. I look down to see that her bottom lip is thrust out. Uh, just a little advice ladies: guys don’t like girls who act like spoiled brats. The toddler look is a total turnoff.
“Alexis, spit it out, because I’m hungry as shit and Blazer’s getting all the bread.”
“I was actually thinking you could maybe, like, come over and we could like, do stuff.”
Like, do stuff?
“Uh, gee, Alexis, I have a date, so…I’ll be doing stuff…just…not with you.” I am able to shrug off her wandering fingers, so I hike my backpack up onto my shoulder and push the hair out of my eyes from under my ball cap. Alexis just stands there, blankly staring at me as if I’ve sprouted three heads, and I can’t help but look at her curiously. “Are you okay?” I ask. Just so we’re clear, I don’t really give a shit if she’s okay; I’m just asking to be polite.
I wave a hand in front of her face to check for vitals.
She finally blinks. Satisfied, I shrug and turn to walk away. I am mere seconds away from being sated by as much government-regulation pizza and crinkle-cut fries that I can eat when I hear a terrible noise.
I guess being a guy, I’m not particularly observant, especially when I’m as hungry as I am. If I were even a tiny bit observant, I would have seen Alexis stiffen and her small fists clench at her sides, and I definitely would have been prepared for what came next.