Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
As we arrive at my brother’s locker, the stench becomes almost unbearable. The guys are all laughing, trying to contain their giddiness. A punchline is coming and I’m afraid of what it will be. More than that, I’m afraid Austin will lose his shit and go berserk.
Even though my brother’s face is an inscrutable mask, he understands how this will go down. He flicks his wrist left, then to the right, before twisting left again and arriving at the number twelve. When he yanks on the handle, the door pops open.
My hand flies to my mouth as an avalanche of manure tumbles out of the locker onto Austin before landing on the floor. The locker has been jampacked with it. The blazer he’d left hanging in there last night is ruined along with his books.
A battle roar erupts from deep in Austin’s chest before he spins around and lunges for Jasper. As soon as he does, the blond boy throws his books to the floor and meets my brother halfway before they collide. The surrounding crowd erupts into chants of—fight, fight, fight.
In the blink of an eye, all hell breaks loose. Austin’s fists fly with an amazing amount of velocity. Grunts soon follow. I’m not sure if the sounds originate from Austin or the other guy. When it becomes apparent that Jasper isn’t thrashing my brother with ease, a few more football players join the fray.
Fuck!
There’s no way I’m going to stand here and allow them to beat the crap out of my brother. With so many players throwing punches, he’ll get pummeled and these assholes will stand around and watch. I drop my backpack to the floor and advance toward the group of grappling boys when strong fingers grip my arms and yank me backward until I land against a muscular chest.
“Let me go,” I yell, struggling against the tight hold.
“You’re not going anywhere,” a voice growls against my ear.
Kingsley.
His arms band around me, making escape impossible.
“Please, I need to help him.” Even though it’s futile, I twist and turn in his arms.
“No.”
It seems like forever before a couple of teachers poke their heads out of their classrooms and jog down the hallway when they see the ruckus taking place.
“Hey!” Mr. Timmons yells, “Break it up right now before everyone gets suspended!”
“Get to class!” another man bellows.
Now that teachers have appeared on the scene, the crowd splinters apart. I search the sea of faces for Austin. He’s on the ground, wrestling with Jasper. The two male teachers wade through the football players before prying the two boys apart.
“Both of you get to the headmaster’s office!”
I jerk out of Kingsley’s hold and rush toward my brother. His face is more swollen than when we arrived fifteen minutes ago. With a growl, I swing around and shove my hands against Jasper’s chest.
Not expecting the attack, he stumbles back a step as hatred materializes across his face. “Someone needs to teach you a lesson, you little bitch!”
Even though there are adults in the vicinity, he takes a menacing step toward me. I stand my ground, straightening to my full height. If he thinks he can hit me and get away with it, let him try. It’ll be that much easier to get his ass expelled from Hawthorne.
“Morgan!” Kingsley barks and Jasper stops, turning toward him with a snarl. The dark-haired boy shakes his head. “Don’t even think about touching her.”
My eyes flare at the power Kingsley wields.
“Mr. Morgan and Mr. Hawthorne,” my AP psychology teacher snaps, “get to the office. Now.”
Then he turns to Kingsley and me, who I realize are the only other students loitering in the corridor. “Both of you get to class before I write you up.”
I shake my head and step closer to Austin. “I’m going to the office with my brother.”
Mr. Timmons purses his lips but doesn’t argue before turning to Kingsley. “Mr. Rothchild, get to first hour.”
Rothchild?
With wide eyes, I swing toward Kingsley.
He’s a Rothchild?
He was talking about his great-great-grandfather?
Even though a small piece of the puzzle has fallen into place, it’s not enough to have a clear picture of what happened and why everyone in this town hates us. Unfortunately, I can’t think about that right now. Something tells me we’ve got bigger problems to occupy us.
Chapter Seventeen
Austin and I sit silently across from the headmaster in his office.
Jasper was the first one called in and after five minutes, was sent back to class. I have no idea what was said to him or if he was even reprimanded for the shit-filled locker or the fight. From the smirk he flashed at us on the way out, it’s doubtful.
Mr. Pembroke, the headmaster, steeples his chubby fingers together as he glares at us. “I’m not sure what kind of school you attended in Chicago, but fisticuffs are not tolerated at Hawthorne Prep. Students are encouraged to reach peaceful resolutions by elevating themselves intellectually with discussions and debates. They do not settle disputes like Neanderthals by using their fists.”