(Previously titled: I Think I Love You)
When Alex Thompson, fiery, gritty, full of piss and vinegar trolls into the small quiet beach town that is Hullbeck, California, it's not what she expects.
She never expected to be part of a vengeful scheme to...
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The problem with small towns, I discovered: word travels fast. See, unlike the city, where shit is always happening — someone is fucking someone, and she smoked coke in the bathroom, and he's having the new history teacher's baby — people in small towns do small town things.
They drive to the same two locations, one of them being a place with a view and the other an empty parking lot where they throw bottles of soda in the sky and watch it explode on the pavement.
And everyone is disgustingly nice to each other. Even if two individuals in said small town have beef with one another, they go about their day plastering fake smiles and insincere greetings and departures, pretending like everything is well and bright.
What the hell kind of bullshit is that.
I was always taught that if I have a problem with someone, I tell them exactly what my problem is. Being nice—god, everyone is nice—is so boring. No one is mean enough. Everyone is so afraid to hurt others feelings but why should I care about other peoples feelings? It not like I own anyone anything, really.
So, you can imagine my surprise when I find out people are actually talking about me. Like, really talking about me as if I was some sort of celebrity that had graced everyone at Daykota High School with my time.
I mean seriously, it was getting out of hand and it was only lunch time. I got to my Algebra II class — whispering here, whisper there. I step into my Econ class, more whispering. And just when I thought I could catch a break during lunch time, surprise!
Whisper.
Whisper.
Whisper.
I shouldgive them something to really talk about. Like something big, something that will blow their small brains far away from this shitty small town. Maybe their brains will take a plane anywhere but here so they may see how the real world functions.
It's incredibly annoying when people talk about you, but they don't have the nerve to talk about you, to you. Maybe I'm just too confrontational. Or maybe everyone around here is a pussy.
Fuck, I'm being an asshole again.
I won't even bother with the details as to how Mia, Dani, and Beth came into the picture. Long story short, I was stupid enough to follow some girl into the parking lot where she shoved me into a dark Porshe, where her two accomplices where waiting. Before I could ask any questions, the driver floored it and we skidded our way out of the school parking, burning rubber in the process.
