Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
I don’t react and just wait for the rest of the list. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters and the fact they think it does just shows how little they know.
“Destruction of public property and public indecency,” she says and then purses her lips.
The last one makes me crack a smile and I have to hide it with my hand, covering my mouth, but it doesn’t fool her.
“I’ll ask you again. Do you think this is funny?” She has a pinched brow now.
“I was just showing my ass,” I tell her even though I know it’s going to tick her off. It doesn’t matter what I say right now anyway. The end result will be the same.
“And was it funny when you told Mrs. Pearson to suck your dick?” she asks and then slips off her wire-rimmed glasses, folding them and calmly setting them down on the desk. Her blond hair remains perfectly straight.
I rest my elbow on the chair and prop up my chin to look at her. “I didn’t think she’d hear it,” I say. That’s the truth.
One eyebrow shoots up slightly. “So it’d be okay if she hadn’t heard it?”
“Not really,” I say, feeling my defenses rise. “But it’s not okay to call someone a failure and a waste of space either,” I add, and my words are pushed through clenched teeth as I try to remember what else my algebra teacher said. I know she said “failure” at least. I know for a fact she did. All because I couldn’t remember a stupid formula. If you can look it up on Google, you shouldn’t be required to memorize it.
“This is about your repeated offenses, Dean. There’s a clear pattern of behavior you need to address,” the principal says, ignoring my statement, but there’s a hint of hesitation in her response. She takes her glasses and gently puts them back on.
“You’re only a freshman and your options for both public and private schools are dwindling. Do you think acting like this is going to help you deal with your issues?”
My body goes rigid at her last word. The air between us tenses and I see her expression change. It morphs to one of victory; she’s finally found something that gets to me.
Principal Talbot shakes her head, the look of disappointment clearly forced. “You have no idea how much you’re hurting yourself,” she tells me as if she really cares.
I scoff at her and look back to the closed door.
None of them care. They just want me gone so I’m not their problem to deal with anymore.
“I can’t have this type of behavior here and quite frankly, this was a favor to your mother.” She looks me in the eye as she adds, “Who, I’m sure, is going to be very disappointed in you.”
Her voice is stern, but that’s not what gets to me. It’s not what makes me rip my gaze away from hers and pick at the fuzz on the red upholstery fabric covering the armrests of my chair. It’s the fact that my mother won’t give a damn. Maybe she’ll say she does. Maybe she’ll even stand there next to that prick she married while he cusses me out for wasting his time. But does she really care? Not about me, she doesn’t. She only cares about the steady supply of Xanax and the allowance he gives her.
“So, what now?” I ask, staring at Principal Talbot.
“We wait for your parents to get here—”
“Parent,” I correct her and hold her gaze as she narrows her eyes at me. “I only have one parent.” My voice almost catches. I almost let my true feelings show. But thankfully, they’re mostly hidden, still buried where they belong.
“Your mother and stepfather then,” she says.
I huff and focus on the lint gathered at the edge of the chair cushion, picking up the tiny pieces between my thumb and forefinger.
She’d better get comfortable. The last time this happened they never even bothered to show up.
ALLISON
“You know you look like a ho,” Sam tells me, cocking her brow like it’s a question.
“Shut up,” I respond dismissively, although I can’t hide my smile or the laughter in my voice. It’s a blip of happiness that’s quickly dimmed by my rising anxiety.
After applying another coat of caramel apple lip gloss, I step back and try to pull the hem of my jean skirt down. It doesn’t budge much.
“Is it too much?” I ask her the legitimate question, feeling an overwhelming need to hide and not go out tonight. My heart races as my gaze sweeps from my short skirt to the clock on the wall of my bedroom. It’s one thing to think about sneaking out to meet a boy. It’s another to actually do it.
Samantha rolls her eyes as she slips on a white blazer over her short red dress. It’s skintight, showing off her curves and barely covering her breasts, but Sam’s always flaunting her boobs.