Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Standing beyond the kitchen window with red, bloodshot eyes is none other than Kane Jessop. He smirks and lifts his hand, I’m about to flip him the bird when I see the hammer he’s about to bring down on the glass.
“OKAY!” I yell, standing and showing him my palm. “I’ll talk to you.”
He nods, eyes sore but lit with that maniacal excitement that is so him and moves away from the glass squares. I see a glow in the dark as he lights something close to his face with an orange flame.
“That boy is still so psychotic.” Mom hisses and I hum my agreement. “He should be in jail.”
“Oh believe me,” I utter, going into the hallway to slip on my shoes, “he absolutely should.”
14 years old
Kane came to school today with a black cast on his broken arm, he’s been off all week. He wasn’t kidding when he said it was broken. How he didn’t cry I don’t know because that must have really hurt.
Still, I raise my chin and carry onward, ignoring the whispers around me of what happened that day. The rumors about it are insane. According to other kids Kane and Ren saved me from getting my ass beat by muggers. Other rumors are that they tried to rape me. Others are saying I lured them into the bush and jumped them with a bunch of guys.
I can’t keep up to be honest and I’m not about to try. Their phony concern and enthusiasm make me nauseous. They’re just being nice to me to get the information and I’m admitting nothing.
And to add a cherry to the top of an already awful day, my locker has been vandalized at some point during my first two classes. It’s not the first time and I doubt it will be the last.
‘You’ll get it.’
That’s what they wrote in red ink, I assume the red is symbolic of blood. I almost roll my eyes at the lack of creativity.
Matthew starts to scrub it off with the sleeve of his shirt but it’s dry as desert sand and is not budging.
He looks around, glaring at those who have come to see my reaction. I’m not giving them one.
“Fuck off,” he yells, squaring up to all of them like he can take them all on. Though these days I reckon he could. He’s been working at a plantation just on the outskirts of town and he’s really beefing up.
Meanwhile I started my job at Martin’s grocery store. It’s not as hard as I thought it would be. He mostly just has me doing everything he said, and Mee-maw is happy with the arrangement because she knows him. Though she asked him to give my money directly to her and my heart sank.
It soon lifted again when he told her he’d be paying me a dollar fifty an hour and at the end of that shift he promised me he’d give me the rest at the end of each week. He knows what’s up and I’m so grateful for that.
At lunch the words on my locker are gone and Matthew is sitting at Kane’s table at the far end, laughing at something somebody said and I wonder when they all became friends. Kane has a girl called Maisy straddling his lap as she draws on his cast in neon green ink. She’s the girl who painted his bike, I think. She’s in the year above us, is crazy good at art, and her parents are bikers like Kane’s granddaddy was. His daddy isn’t so much into it as his granddaddy but he joins the rides sometimes. They call themselves the Renegades and last year they were part of this huge Thanksgiving parade in the city, holding up torches and turkeys. It was actually quite fun to watch.
Mee-maw let me get a lightning bolt on my cheek in yellow glitter. She was so much fun that day but she had indulged in a brandy with her closest friend Margery who is awful at baking but always insists on it. I broke my tooth on her stupid food. Lucky for me it was a baby tooth.
“You’re staring,” my friend Katie tells me.
I quickly look away from Kane, hating how the image of him kissing Maisy is now stuck in my mind. He grabbed her so viciously and pulled her mouth to his, tongues tangling, spit swapping. So gross. But then I recall my kiss with Mallick and I get it. I understand why he wants to kiss Maisy like he does. It makes your whole body feel so alive and nice.
My eyes drift back over and Maisy is threading her fingers through his hair, it looks so soft and light to the touch despite the thickness.
“You’re staring again,” Katie hisses and I look back at the table, this time mentally swearing that I won’t glance their way again. “You’re so quiet lately.”