Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
"Told you. I got you. Fucking hell, man."
"Jax!" Coach shouts at me.
"I don't have time for this," I mutter to my brother.
"You do," he says, checking his phone. I want to ask how he knows, but I bite back the question.
"Jax!" Coach shouts again.
"Give me a fucking second!" I bark back, making the whole locker room fall silent. Coach and I stare at each other. He breaks it, stepping back into his office.
"Don't be a dick."
"I don't need him barking orders at me. I don't get paid to do this shit." It’s starting to piss me off.
"Not what it's about." I get that. I do. Our parents put us in sports and school to learn rules and boundaries. Whatever. I don't even want to be here.
"Go pretend you can be a normal human." I nod, then head into Coach's office. I don't apologize. He and I have been butting heads since the start of practice this year.
I let him drone on about a few plays and the upcoming game this Friday. I need to strike another deal with Kinsley to make sure she's at the game. I'm guessing she will be. It's the first of the year, and she's the head of the media department of our school. Need to make sure she doesn’t send out another classmate to cover it.
"Are you listening to me, Jax?" Coach Kaufman lets out a loud sigh.
"Kinsley Blake."
"Notebook girl?" Coach questions. "She does all of the stories."
"I want her at the game." Coach has power of his own. He, without a doubt, has to be the highest-paid employee of the school. I'm sure he's had other offers for college coaching positions, but he took on this one for the pay.
"That's where your head is at?"
"If she's not there, I'm not there."
"That's how it is?"
"That's how it is," I confirm.
It's time for everyone to know where I stand when it comes to Kinsley Blake.
Chapter Eight
KINSLEY
Ifidget with the note I found slipped into my locker. I have no clue what to make of it. It said they had a story for me. That sounds wonderful and all, but it also said the story was about Jax Marino.
That had my full attention. It also had my spidey senses tingling. I would have preferred to meet with this mystery note person at school, but they told me the story was happening now, and I needed to come to said location, which is a warehouse down on the docks.
It’s the start of my very own horror movie. I’ve gone around and around about telling Jax about it but pulled that thought back. He’s only been chatty with me for one day, and I’m under his spell. Nope, I’m not going to be that girl. I won’t allow a guy to get in the way of a story. I have to follow the leads that I get, no matter what.
“What’s up with you and Jax?” Blair, Golden Prep’s resident emo girl, asks. I was surprised to see she had taken media as one of her classes, and now here she is hanging out after school. I jotted down both things in my notebook, being as that isn’t her norm.
“Nothing.” I shrug it off.
“Ah, you only take others' information in and don’t give any of your own out, I see.” Blair rolls her bright blue eyes at me. The eyes of an angel cloaked in darkness. She may think she’s hiding her natural beauty under all of the heavy makeup and combat boots, but it still shines through.
Blair isn’t wrong, and she has always shared information with me. It might not hurt to talk to her about Jax. I’m sure the halls are buzzing with this news already. I don’t want to be the news; I want to report it.
“I don’t know what it is. He’s the one talking to me.” If I didn’t know better, I’d call him my stalker. He pops up everywhere; even before today, I would always see him around. Often not during school either.
“Be careful.” Blair stands, grabbing her bag off the ground where she’d dropped it.
“Because he’ll hurt me?”
“There is more than physical pain.” That’s not cryptic or anything. “Also—” Blair leans down close to my ear, her jet-black hair falling to cover her face. “He gives me the creeps.” She points her thumb at her chest so only I can see it, and it’s in the direction of the new media teacher, Mr. McIntyre, who is behind her.
“Well, that’s not good,” I whisper back. “You’re the one that's supposed to be creeping people out.” Blair snorts a laugh before she takes off.
She has to be going off vibes because we haven’t gotten much from the new media teacher yet, but this course is fairly independent, and I run most of it because I’m the editor-in-chief.