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Chapter One
Avery
While the moonlight dances off the shiny red paint of his tricked out
sports car, I feel my blood start to boil, and my face start to match the color. How could he? Seriously? And with Charity Bidwell of all people?
When the reality
that I am being cheated on is smacked in my face, my first instinct is to burst
out in tears like a little girl whose puppy was just ran over, but I can’t. I
know I can’t, not with Sasha sitting in the passengers seat. She’d never let me
live it down. I’m suppose to be tough. I’m apart of Ohio State's mean girl
squad for crying out loud. I can’t let a jerk like Chance Murphy make me the
laughing stock of the school just as I’m on my way to queen bee status.
“Well, Avery?”
Sasha, my sorority sister, smirks with her very I-told-you-so-face. “What are
you going to do about that?”
“Yeah, Avery. Are
you going to let him get away with that shit?” Rosemary chimes from my back
seat.
They want action.
They came with me tonight just to get first hand gossip, so I have to give
people something to talk about. Something that’ll make the rest of the sorority
forget the fact that Chance was in Highland Cinema sucking face with Charity,
making me look like a pathetic loser in the process.
The muscles in my
neck tense at the thought of people laughing at me Monday morning, so push my
fingers into the tight flesh in the back of my neck and sigh. I close my eyes,
trying to plan my move. The only thing I can think of is revenge. I want to
hurt him like he's hurting me. My eyes snap open as my plan unfolds in my brain. The
one thing Chance loves is that car—that pretty, red, sports car that’s mocking
me with its presence. The one that’s sitting all alone at the far end of the
parking lot, that’s begging for punishment.
With lighting quick
speed I pop the trunk of my car, fling open my car door, and hop out. Behind me Sasha and Rosemary giggle as they make their
way over to me while I riffle through my trunk.
“What are you
looking for?” Sasha quizzes.
My hand lands on
cold, hard steel and I pull it out of the trunk for a better look. “This.”
“What the hell is
that?” Rosemary asks.
The laugh that
escapes my lips startles me a little because it doesn’t even sound like me.
It has the ring of someone thinking very dark and menacing things, not feeling
heartbroken, like I really feel now. “It’s a crowbar.”
Sasha smiles.
“Nice.”
“What a minute,
Avery. You can’t possibly use that on them.”
I roll my eyes and
slam the trunk lid. “Rosemary, it’s not to hurt them with.”
Rosemary scrunches
her face. For being the so-called brains of our group, she isn’t always the
brightest crayon in the box. Our little secret society really needs to adjust
what they view as brilliance.
I take off toward
the bright red show-of-money that’s shinning under the glow of the street
lamps, planning to reciprocate some pain. The steel now feels warm in my
grip, after taking some of the built-up heat from my sweaty palm, nearly
matching my body temperature.
This is the last
time I allow myself to be hurt like this. I’m sick of men treating me like
something they can use then toss away.
I stop in front of
the red Camero and zero in on the headlights as I raise the crowbar above my
head.
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