Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 68143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
There was a long moment of silence before Gunner said, “Want a ride home?”
Did I?
“I think I might walk,” I admitted. “If I get home too early, my mom will wonder why I’m there so early. Then I’ll have to explain that I’m only there because my date is an asshole.”
“Then let me take you to eat,” he offered.
“I’m not all that hungry,” I lied.
I hadn’t been able to eat much when we went out to the restaurant earlier.
Marx had a burger and fries.
I’d snacked on a cheeseburger salad.
He grunted. “I just need to go grab all my stuff. Here’s my keys.”
He tossed me his keys, and I caught them despite the growing darkness.
He walked into the gym, slipping his dirty uniform top back on as he went.
I turned and stared at his Jeep.
I’d always liked it.
It was brown with big mud tires.
Not the fanciest on the block because he’d bought it with his own money—he did about twenty lawns every weekend to pay for it—but it was the most badass in the entire parking lot.
I walked to the passenger side and unlocked it, staring at the baby paraphernalia that littered the front seat.
I smiled when I saw the tiny little baseball mitt for his son, Jett.
Jumping into the seat, I moved the little mitt onto my lap and put my seat belt on.
When I was done buckling up, I waited for a solid ten minutes for him to come back outside.
When he did, he was shaking out his hand.
As he got closer, I took in his appearance.
There was blood on his uniform top.
He also had a wad of cash in his hands that had me frowning.
“Rough game?” I asked him when he jumped into the Jeep.
He took the keys from my outstretched hand and started it up.
I watched as his foot moved onto the clutch and he shifted into reverse.
A manual.
“I’ve always wanted to learn how to drive a manual,” I mused, not waiting for him to explain about the blood on his shirt. “Was it easy?”
He grinned. “Want to learn?”
I blinked. “Here?”
“Here.” He shrugged.
So that was what I did.
I learned how to drive a manual on the way to Texas Roadhouse where he treated me to rolls galore, chicken fingers, and a baked potato.
We drove to his uncle’s house to pick up Jett.
Then he dropped me off at my place four hours later.
It was the best night in the world, and I was somewhat glad that Marx had fucked me over if that was how I got to spend my night.
Gunner waved as I got to my front porch, hand on the knob.
I waved back, then slipped inside and headed straight up to my room, glad that my parents were out still for the night.
When I got up there, I put my hands into the pockets of the jacket I’d borrowed and burrowed deeper into the smell of Gunner.
It took me a second to figure out that there was something in the pocket that my left hand was touching. Pulling it out, I found a wad of cash and frowned.
There was a note on the first twenty-dollar bill in red Sharpie that said, “Fuck Marx. Fuck the entire junior class. You’re awesome, and you should own it. They’re just jealous because they all suck compared to you. Keep the money. You deserve it after the bullshit they pulled.”
My heart clenched.
God, why did Gunner have to be so nice?
And why did everyone else have to be so mean?
SUTTON
Age eighteen
“And the class valedictorian is Sutton Sway!” Principal Edmonson called out. “Welcome her up here as she gives her speech.”
There were lots of claps from the crowd.
Nearly no one from my class.
Not surprising.
I got up to the microphone and started to talk.
The speech was good.
I knew it was good.
But it was also a silent dig at every single one of my bullies for the last how many ever years.
“I moved here when I was seven,” I said as I looked around. “I thought that this place was going to be my second chance. We moved from a school in Dallas where it was terrifying and big, and I was so nervous all the time. I thought by moving here, I’d get some close friends, and I’d love living in a small community where I’d know every one of my classmates.” I looked directly at Aleah. “But I didn’t get that. I got the worst of both worlds. All of my bullies knew who I was, and I knew who all of them were. I got personalized bullying from each and every one of you, but at least I wasn’t bombarded with thousands of kids every day. Only ninety-two.”
The crowd started muttering.
All of the kids sat back in their seats.
None of them smiled.
“I hope one day that you have children,” I said to my class. “I hope that those children have peaceful school lives. I hope that they come home every day and tell you how good their day at school was. I hope that they are happy and carefree. I hope that they don’t wake up every morning like I did and dread what’s to come.” I moved my gaze to Marx, my second biggest bully. “I hope that you marry and have kids. You get the fantastic job, and the beautiful wife who will love you. I hope that you are happy. I hope that all of you are happy. I hope that each and every one of you makes it. And I hope that you never treat someone the way you have treated me.”