Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
It took me over an hour to get up all the debris, and when I went to make one last sweep over the floor, something caught in the vacuum brush. It rattled and whirled. I pulled the vacuum out from under the foot of my bed, the machine attempting to suck up Sid’s sad, headless body.
I cut the motor, wrangled him out, then sat on my stripped-down mattress. Sid had been Lola’s ride-or-die ever since I’d won him for her. And I, as she had so eloquently put it earlier, murdered him.
My gaze drifted to the guitar by the nightstand. She knew how much that thing meant to me and saved it even after I’d called her a whore. After I’d spat hate at her that I still felt sick over. And still, I had cut off Sid’s head like a heartless bastard.
We’d both betrayed each other’s trust. Hadn’t we…
Chapter 33
LOLA
Fucking homecoming week.
I dodged the group of color guard exiting the restroom in their sparkly outfits. I never understood the entire theatrics of football. Cheerleaders. Dance team. Band… Just to watch a bunch of guys in helmets and pads ram into each other. The whole thing put me in a bad mood.
“I hate these stupid pep rallies,” I mumbled.
Kyle and I followed the crowd of students through the side exit that led onto the football field. The blistering heat nuking me into a sweat. It was October. Oc-fucking-tober. Why the hell was it still hot?
“At least we get out of class,” Kyle said.
“Kyle, there are many things I’d rather do. Including class…and shoving rusty nails in my eyes.”
Music pumped through crappy speakers as we filed past the concession stand.
The cheerleaders stood on the other side of the gate, shouting dumb cheers. When I passed by Jessica, I flipped her off. Just because.
I hoped she fell from the top of the pyramid.
The heavy beat of Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train” pumped through the stadium while Kyle and I climbed the bleachers, finding an empty spot. As soon as the screech of the electric guitar cut in, Wolf strutted onto the field, carting a folding chair. A group of girls screamed when the music silenced. Someone shouted they’d suck his dick.
Smiling, he took a microphone from one of the cheerleaders. “Homecoming week is about to get a lot better. I’ve got a teacher challenge for you that’s gonna be fun.” A mischievous smirk cut over his face as he sat the chair on the turf. “Let’s give it up for our fearless leader—Principal Brown.”
Oh, he was up to something awful.
He explained the rules—the teachers had to taste test items and try to guess what they were—while one of the cheerleaders escorted a blindfolded Brown to the chair. Had the man learned nothing? I would not let Wolf blindfold me for shit.
“What if they make him eat something gross like peanut butter?” Kyle said.
I snorted. “They aren’t making him eat peanut butter, Kyle.” I could see where this was going. Dog shit, maybe. Vomit…
The tension mounted with the first three items. Vanilla yogurt. Canned Cheese. Spam. Because there was no way that was it, and everyone knew something awful was coming.
Brown was in the middle of contemplating the fourth item when I caught Hendrix climbing over the chain-link fence surrounding the field.
Hushed snickers trickled through the stands while Wolf put a hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh as Hendrix sauntered up to him all crazy Captain Jack Sparrow style.
Wolf frantically waved the growing laughter down, pressing a finger to his lips.
A hush fell over the stadium, and I glanced around, looking for the teachers. Weaver and Smith were over by the concession stand, passing her thermos back and forth, completely oblivious to whatever was about to unfold.
“All right, Mr. Brown. You’re four for four,” Wolf said, his shoulders silently shaking with suppressed laughter. “This next one is gonna be really hard. Some say it’s a delicacy.”
I almost didn’t want to look as Hendrix tugged his jeans down, followed by his boxers, and pulled his ass cheeks apart. Oh. My. God.
Brown leaned forward just as Hendrix shuffled back.
His tongue met Hendrix’s crack, and the bleachers erupted in laughter. Even I laughed. Hendrix was ridiculous. And awful. The ultimate reprobate bad boy making the principal kiss the ring. Literally.
Brown stilled, then ripped the blindfold off, finding himself two inches from Hendrix’s asshole.
“Run, Forest, Run!” Wolf cackled into the microphone.
Brown’s face turned an unhealthy shade of red before he stalked after my rebel ex, but he didn’t stand a chance. Hendrix was like a rat up a pipe. He hopped the fence and booked it across the parking lot to a roar of applause.
“It’s that dickhead’s birthday this weekend,” Wolf shouted into the mic. “Everyone’s invited.”
Of course, Hendrix would be having a big party. It would be carnage. Beer, weed, girls… Yeah, I was fine with hating Hendrix, but even I knew my limits, and I’d be avoiding the house like the plague this weekend.