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)
Tell your girl I said hey. That comment burned through me, and what burned through me more was the fact that I had to stand there.
The tardy bell rang just as I shoved the restroom door open, then launched my fist into the graffitied cinder-block wall. “Fuck!” I punched the same spot, again and again, imagining it was Ethan’s face, imagining it was whoever the hell Lola had cheated on me with.
With each blow that landed against the concrete, each jolt of pain that ricocheted up my arm, a small bit of my rage disappeared. But not enough. Because while I was pissed as hell at Ethan, the person I was really mad at was myself.
He only had to mention her damn name to send me over the edge. I’d sworn after my mom had died, after our uncle who was supposed to take care of us had bailed, that I would never care more about someone than they did me. And that was exactly what I was doing with Lola. There was nothing in this rotten world I wanted more than her. No one I cared more about. And I was just a little puppet, letting her play with the strings she’d eventually cut in two.
I rinsed the blood from my knuckles, wrapped my hand in a paper towel, then headed to class.
The door clicked open, and Smith turned from the white board, her gaze widening when it dropped to my shirt. “Oh, uh-uh, Jeffrey Dahmer. You stop your killing-spree butt right there!”
She capped her marker and went to her desk. “Like I’m gonna let you sit in here all covered in Lord only knows whose blood. Ripped shirt.” She shook her head before crossing the room. “Get on down to the nurse’s office and clean that mess off of you. Probably need to go ahead and send up some prayers for forgiveness, ‘cause your ass is surely on its way to hell.”
I snatched the pass from her outstretched hand and left the room. I was not in the mood to argue with that batshit-crazy woman today.
Halfway down the empty hall, footsteps came from behind me. “Hendrix!”
Of course, Lola would come after me. Up the hill, down the hill. Loop de loop.
Clenching my jaw, I turned around just before her Converse skidded to a stop in front of me.
Her panicked gaze moved from my blood-splattered shirt to my busted hand and finally my untouched face. “Are you okay?”
I was so tired of her acting like she cared. I miss you. We’re just friends. Fuck me, Hendrix. Don’t fuck me. No. I was tired of wanting her to care.
My gaze dropped from the eyes I used to lose myself in to lips I used to kiss without needing to ask permission. Like Lola-Fucking-Stevens had a right to give a crap if I was okay.
I wasn’t.
I hadn't been. Because of her. All because when it came to her, I had zero control over my anger, my want, my dignity. “Oh, is today one of the days you give a shit?” My tone was harsh, the same shithead tone I took with girls I didn’t care about.
She frowned. “I’ve never not given a shit about you. And you know it.”
I had to place a hand on one of the lockers to steady myself and laugh at that one. Because that was bullshit. I would never betray someone I cared about. “Yeah,” I said, turning my back to her. “It’s been absolutely crystal clear, punk.”
That time, the echo of her footfalls didn’t follow behind me.
Chapter 23
LOLA
Whispers bounced off the walls of Dayton High for the rest of the morning. By the time I’d grabbed my lunch and dropped to the crowded table, I’d pieced together a vague image of what had transpired earlier that day.
Barrington being assholes was nothing new. What threw me off was the rumor that Hendrix hadn’t punched Ethan because he’d sure as hell beaten the crap out of someone. My gaze drifted across the lunchroom to Hendrix.
I had my own problems to worry about, though. Namely, how the hell I was going to pay my rent after next week. I had a total of one hundred and twenty bucks saved up and a slew of rejection emails from most of the jobs I’d applied for over the weekend. And during these “desperate End Times”, sometimes we had to resort to desperate measures. At least Church Boy was right about one thing…
I spooned the school’s instant mashed potatoes into my mouth, swallowed, then turned my attention to Kyle. “Can you take me somewhere tonight?”
Kyle paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Sure. Where?”
“Church.”
He made a weird choking sound, and Robert whacked him on the back. “Church?”
“They’re gonna have pizza.” And donations. I speared an overboiled green bean and waved it in his direction. “Maybe even your favorite. Disgusting ham and pineapple.” It really was the worst combination ever.