Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
I crammed the test into my backpack, yanked the zipper closed, and headed out of the classroom, hoping fresh air might help the sick feeling in my stomach. It didn’t.
I was halfway to the cafeteria when my phone buzzed in my pocket, then buzzed again. I figured it was probably Monroe sending me more threats of castration if I didn’t let Jade off the hook. That girl had grown up in the trailer down from mine. She was engaged to one of my best friends, so she, of all people, should have known all those threats would only add fuel to the fire. I pulled out the device just as another text from Bellamy popped up on the screen.
Man, I’ve got to go home.
Can you fill in for me?
I’m sick as shit.
I fired off a text, telling him I was on my way.
Halfway down the concourse, I spotted him, leaning over the pamphlet-covered table, clutching his stomach.
I dropped my backpack to the lawn, and he glanced up. Face white. Sweat beading his brow.
“Posterboard’s on the chair.” He tossed the tape at me. “I think the girls undercooked that bacon or something.”
“You should have known better than to eat anything they cook.”
“It seemed fine.” He grabbed his stomach again. “Fuck me,” he groaned, then booked it toward one of the buildings.
I took the posterboard from the chair, taped it to the front of the table, then stepped back to read over it as it wavered in the breeze.
SAVE THE ENDANGERED SPHENISCUS DEMERSUS.
Fucking ridiculous…
I sank onto one of the sunbaked metal folding chairs and stared out over the crowded concourse. My stomach let out a low grumble. The Pop-Tart I’d grabbed on my way out the door that morning had long gone, but at least I hadn’t succumbed to food poisoning.
A group of hipster-looking guys parted, and Rogue shouldered his way through, clutching two cardboard boxes against his—I felt my brow wrinkle—pink shirt?
“Why the hell are you wearing pink?” I swore if this was another of his ideas on how to get more donations for this bullcrap charity, I was going to bitch slap him.
He dropped the box onto the table, grabbed a few of the rubber penguins from inside, and placed them on the tabletop. “Cassie is evidently crap at laundry.”
That girl was vengeful as hell and petty as all fuck. “Somehow, I doubt that was an accident.”
He dropped to the seat beside me and snatched two more penguins from the box. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe this shit isn’t worth it.”
Because she’d dyed his Gucci shirt pink… “If one pink shirt is all it’s taken for you to realize that, then you didn’t think this through. At all. I told you, dude. And this is only the start.”
Cassie probably had a list a mile long of ways to try to have us waving a white flag.
His attention drifted to three girls passing the table. “Good afternoon, ladies. Can we interest you in donating to our charity?”
They stopped, wide smiles spreading over their faces. “Hi, Wolf,” the brunette said, twirling hair around her finger. “You played really well last weekend.”
“Thanks.” I forced a somewhat genuine smile. Maybe, had I thought she actually cared about the game and wasn’t trying to hit on me, it wouldn’t have been forced.
The other girl picked up a penguin, squealing how cute it was. “How much are they?”
“Only five bucks,” Rogue said with a grin.
Two of the girls eagerly passed over cash, took a penguin, and walked off, disappearing on the sunny concourse.
Rogue nudged my side. “Tell me this—” He plucked one of the rubber bath toys from the table and held it up against the sunlight—“isn’t genius.”
I couldn’t argue with him about it. Those cheap-ass rubber toys had proven, at least, so far, to be a foolproof way to deal drugs smack dab in the middle of campus. To anyone passing by on the busy concourse, it looked like we were two guys selling crap to raise money for our charity. Little did most people know that the box Rogue had tucked underneath the table was filled with penguins that had E shoved up their asses. They just had to ask for a pinger instead of a penguin, and we charged them ten bucks for the toy.
Rogue’s stomach let out a loud rumble. “Bro…” He placed a hand on his stomach. “Do you feel okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“My stomach is messed up.”
“Yeah, no shit. You ate food that Jade and Cassie cooked. Bell’s sick, too. The bacon was probably raw.”
“My stomach is made of steel. It can handle some raw pig.”
“Maybe they poisoned it.”
He snorted. “Right…”
“Dude, you really underestimate Cassie.”
“Do I think Cassie may end up smashing the windows? Possibly shit on the bed out of spite? Yes.” He rubbed over his stomach. “Poison me? She likes my pretty face and massive cock too much.”