Boys of Brayshaw High by Meagan Brandy EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Author: Meagan Brandy
- Language: English
- Genre: Coming of Age Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Walk away.
Move your feet, exit this piece of shit cafeteria, and go get high. Chill
out.
Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.
I keep walking, and I’m almost free and clear, almost through the door
and away from the trouble I surely don’t need but can’t seem to escape.
But of course, nothing in my life is simple and just before my left foot
joins my right, the final step through the open door, the bitch decides she’s
not done and runs her mouth. Again.
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“Maybe if she wasn’t such a slut her whore mom wouldn’t have kicked
her out for sleeping with her new man.”
The laughter echoes, growing louder until it wraps around my throat
like my mother’s hands when in a fit, choking me until I lose focus.
I stop where I stand.
My eyes haze, rage winning over the calm bravado I attempted to force
myself into.
“Trailer trash, bitch.”
More laughs.
And there it is, the push.
Why do they always push?
Before anyone can stop me, not that there’s anyone who would give a
shit to, I snatch the closest tray off the nearest table and in one swift move,
one hard, full swing, smash it across the side of her face.
The cheap red plastic breaks against her head and screams ring around
me.
Blood pours from the big mouthed bitch’s forehead and she shrieks, her
horrified gaze flying to mine. I wait until our stares connect, then quickly
kick her chair sideways. Panic grows in her eyes as she crashes to the floor.
There’s no time to escape, not that I have anywhere to go.
People scream, but no one dares to step closer to me. The lunch lady
calls for help and everyone rushes to the asshole on the floors side because
she’s ‘the victim.’ Sure, I got physical first, but she started it. What did she
expect?
If you can’t take it, don’t dish it.
And, yeah, the spat wasn’t a lie, my mother is a whore. The dirtiest of
dirty. Straight trailer trash at its finest, I’ll admit it all day.
But she doesn’t get to say it.
And I sure as shit couldn’t let her get away with disrespecting me the
way she did, publicly.
Not sure how she managed it, but my mother, the failure she is, taught
me one thing – to keep my pride above all else.
Apparently, that’s all a girl like me can control.
So disrespect me not.
“My office! Now!” Principal Folk screeches. He doesn’t call me by
name, doesn’t look my way, but why would he? Here I stand, caught redhanded – literally still holding half of the tray in my hand – as always.
He probably knew it was me the second someone called for help, before
even walking in here.
I toss the tray to the floor and head straight to my home away from
home – the cheap wooden chair with a ripped-up burgundy center that sits
directly across from the principal’s desk.
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