Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 68066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
And I meant everyone.
Football was life in our small beach town and scouts were already looking at me for college and I was only in the second grade.
I was kind of a big deal around these parts.
Neither the bikers nor the coaches gave a shit if I cussed, talked about all the girls that liked me, or even when I needed to fix my junk in public.
Sometimes it was all three at once, and no one said a word about it.
It was guy stuff.
At the clubhouse, we’d have so much fun blowing shit up, shooting rifles, looking for trouble in the woods. Which dumbass, annoying, loud-mouth Harley Jameson always thought she could be part of.
“Why are we at the Gremlin’s house instead of the clubhouse?”
“Jagger, can you ride with Harley’s parents? Luke’s waiting for you,” Mom said to him while she turned and looked at me. “Harley’s mother and I thought it would be a good idea if we made the two of you spend some quality time together.”
Before I could say something about the stupidest idea ever, Jagger opened the door and got out.
“Traitor!” I shouted as he shut the door behind him.
Jagger and Harley’s younger brother Luke were complete opposites. Luke was the firstborn son of a biker Prez, and Jagger was the son of a surgeon, but it never stopped them from being friends.
I watched him get into their truck as Harley stepped out, all while Mom went on about something.
“Jackson, are you listening to me?” she asked.
“Uh huh.” I wasn’t listening at all. I was too busy watching dipstick walk over to our SUV.
Why does she always dress like she put her clothes on in the dark?
She called herself a “fashionista”, whatever that meant. To me, she looked like a ballerina who pooped out a unicorn. She was wearing a bright pink shirt, rainbow tutu, red heart leggings, and glittered purple Chucks.
She always wore Converse sneakers. She was a girly-girl who acted like a boy. Every time I reminded her of that, she’d hit me. Still didn’t make any damn sense.
There were sparkly cat ears on her head and a bazillion different colored bracelets on her arms that went from her wrists almost to her elbows. A mermaid backpack was slung over her right shoulder with a pink furry purse, that looked like a dead animal, hanging from the other one.
I sat there staring at the walking disaster coming toward me, shaking my head.
What the hell?
Once she opened the door, I quickly looked away and moved as far from her as I could.
“Hi, honey,” Mom greeted, smiling at her.
“Hi, Aunt Bailey and Uncle Aiden,” she replied in the sweetest voice with a nice big smile.
I rolled my eyes, wanting to throw up in my mouth.
She was not sweet or nice. She was the opposite of that, and I had her battle scars on my body to prove it.
Harley sat as close to me as possible, knowing it would annoy me, and I couldn’t say anything about it in front of my parents.
She knew it too.
She was doing it on purpose.
I hate her.
I knocked her arm with my elbow, and she knocked mine back harder.
“Loser,” she mouthed.
Grabbing my notebook from the seat pocket in front of me with her letters, I started a new one before throwing the whole pad of paper in her lap.
They r not your aunt or uncle. We r not your real family. We r way better than u. Y do u smell like the poop spray my mom sprays in the bathroom? U smell like a fruity fart.
–With all my hate for u, Jackson
She smiled, pulling out her stupid girly pen with the pink fluff on the end from her purse. I’d broken a few, but she always had more.
They ain’t your parent’s either cuz u were adopted. Did u not shower? I can smell your nuts from here.
–Not love, Harley
At least my parents wanted me. U were an accident turned into a big, huge mistake. U must be smelling yourself, ass face.
–With all my hate for u, Jackson
I’m so done with u.
–Not love, Harley
I’m always done with u. Blow me.
–With all my hate for u, Jackson
I’ll blow u over.
–Not love, Harley
“What’s going on back there?” Mom asked.
“Nothing,” we replied at the same time.
Stop breathing my air.
-Not love, Harley
Ok, I’ll strangle u, so u can’t breathe at all.
-With all my hate for u, Jackson
Y don’t u go play in trafic?
-Not love, Harley
Y don’t u learn how to spell traffic?
-With all my hate for u, Jackson
She punched my leg where my parents couldn’t see, and I tore the notebook from her lap.
U hit like a girl. Don’t hit me again.
-With all my hate for u, Jackson
If I hit like a girl, then y u being a big baby about it? Build a bridge and get over it. Besides u started it.