Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 35946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
“Hey, trash. Guess what.”
I turn and see the first guy grinning smugly at me from the other side of his table.
“I’m gonna talk about whoever the fuck I want, okay? So, if I wanna talk about how I want to get my dick all up in Ms. Hayes, you’re gonna sit there and shut your fucking—”
He doesn’t finish that, because that’s when I lunge right across the table and tackle him to the ground.
Oh, and now it’s on.
I slam my fist into him, roaring as I feel the rest of them pile on like the pussies they are. Fists and feet rain down on me, but I don’t let off on the guy I’ve got on the ground. I just keep hitting him, and snarling in his terrified face until suddenly, I feel hands grabbing me and hauling me away from the whole pile.
“Hey! Hey!”
I’m still struggling to break free of the hands holding me back when another arm goes around my neck and tightens just enough to let me know whoever it is knows what they’re doing. I growl, snarling at the punk-ass bleeding on the floor, but I hold back.
“Easy, Scott!” an older voice barks into my ear, bringing me back to earth. I turn and realize it’s Principal Kane holding me back, along with some guy in a football letterman jacket. Across from us, Coach Kirby and some other guy in a football jacket are holding back the other players.
“This is over!” Principal Kane booms over us all. “Is that understood, gentlemen?”
The other guys nod.
“Is that understood, Mr. Scott.”
I glare at the guy on the ground and nod.
“Yeah, it’s over.”
“My office,” Principal Kane growls, his dark eyes fuming and his strong jaw clenched.
“Now.”
* * *
“He’s just bent out of shape that I made a joke about his girlfriend.”
Derrick Maybach, the little bitch I knocked down, scowls at Principal Kane before turning to glare at me. Behind him, sitting on the small sofa in Principal Kane’s office, is one of the football guys who helped break up the fight, this guy Beckett Truman who’s apparently the star quarterback. I don’t recognize him as being part of the “who would you bang” bullshit.
“Who was he talking about, Mr. Scott.”
I shrug. “A bunch of girls. They were being crude and disrespectful, and it fucking got to me.”
Principal Kane glares at me. “Let’s try and watch the language, Mr. Scott.”
I just shrug.
“He got his panties all twisted up about Ms. Hayes,” Derrick snorts, glancing at me. “You got widdle cwush on your awt teacher, trash?”
My hand closes to a fist under the desk, but Principal Kane gets to him first.
“Knock that shit off, Mr. Maybach.”
Derrick looks shocked.
“Whoa, what happened to watching our language, Principal—”
“Derrick.”
Coach Kirby, who’s been standing in the corner of the office leaning against a book shelf, suddenly opens his mouth, and we both turn to him.
“Shut up.”
I see a half smile creep over Principal Kane’s mouth before he stifles it.
“Thank you, Coach Kirby. Now, gentlemen, we have a strict zero tolerance policy around here on fighting.”
“He was being a douchebag,” I growl. “So, I put him in his place.”
Principal Kane arches a brow at me.
“We don’t put people in their place around here, Mr. Scott.”
“Yeah? Well maybe more of the students around here would do well to be put in their place.”
I can hear Beckett snort behind me, and I glance up in time to catch a small smirk on Coach Kirby’s face. He even winks at me when he realizes I’ve spotted him, but then he hides it away.
“That’s not for you to decide, Mr. Scott,” Principal Kane growls. He sighs and sits back in his chair, shaking his head.
“I hate to do this, but you’re on suspension. One week.”
“Fine,” I mutter.
Derrick grins.
“Enjoy your vacation, tra—”
“Mr. Maybach,” Principal Kane growls, turning to glare at Derrick.
“So are you.”
Derrick’s jaw drops.
“What? No fucking way! Principal Kane, I’ve got football! There are going to be scouts at next week’s game—!”
“Not my problem,” our principal growls. He nods at Beckett, who stands.
“Mr. Truman, please straighten this crap out.”
“Beck! Bro! Tell him this is bullshit! Tell him—”
“No.”
Beckett glares at Derrick.
“You fucked—” he clears his throat, glancing at Principal Kane. “You messed up, Derrick. There’s no place for that shit on this team.”
Derrick’s lips pull back in a snarl.
“Fuck you, man. You’re supposed to be my bro.”
“I told you to watch that temper, Maybach,” Beckett growls. “Take the week, and when you come back, that attitude better be fixed or I’m giving your starting spot to someone else.”
Derrick snarls, but he turns away from Beckett to glare at me.
“This isn’t over, trash,” he mutters as he stands.
I just smile and lean back in my chair.
“Any time, limp-dick.”
“That’s enough, Mr. Scott,” Principal Kane mutters as Derrick storms out of the room, followed by Beckett.
“Your suspension begins now. You want me to get your dad down here to give you a ride or something?”