Page 22 of My Rules for Revenge (Twisted YA Mysteries #1)

JACOB

I lived on the bad side of town, the eastern side of Brightwood Lake, which was mainly made up of large farmland, failing businesses, and very suspicious-looking food trucks. I never ate at one of those. There was no way they were caught up on their health codes.

I usually walked the forty minutes from school to my rinky-dink apartment.

That meant I had to endure potheads and hobos pleading for me to spot them five dollars for drugs and beer.

They always said they needed it for food, but I wasn’t an idiot by any stretch of the imagination.

I knew they bought cigarettes and other junky bullshit.

The other degenerates who inhabited the eastern side of town were a bunch of gangster wannabes, obnoxious fishermen, and hooligans who rode on ATVs.

These were the type of people I dealt with on a daily basis.

Clearly, I didn’t belong there, but I couldn’t do anything about it until graduation.

My mother thought I was going to stay with her forever, but that was never an option for me.

When I walked up the steps to get to my apartment, I had various liquor bottles and pieces of garbage viciously thrown at me. This was the ninth time this month. I wasn’t even counting the time a gang of stupid cheerleaders decided to ambush me with rocks at school.

“You women-hating douchebag.”

“Kill yourself, dumbass.”

“Shoot yourself in the head, you creepy twat.”

“Your dick is smaller than my ballsack.”

“Your sweet little ass is gonna get jumped like a cereal with honey and nuts.”

This is the exact thing these people said to me. Those videos of me that Heather made went viral. Nearly everyone in my neighborhood saw it. Whenever I was scared about getting jumped, I practically ran through my door and slammed it shut behind me.

That day was no different. I was already sweating.

The lack of air conditioning in my apartment didn’t help.

My mother felt it was too expensive to pay, despite the fact that we lived in Florida.

It was always hot and humid. She didn’t have a job—she just sold things online.

Most of it was expensive jewelry that my grandmother left behind for her.

The other stuff…I never wanted to know where she got it from.

When I walked in, my mother was sitting on the couch as she twirled her short, choppy hair.

She was watching a trashy reality show. She smoked a cigarette on our torn-up couch, which was missing two cushions, and seemed to be on her second pack.

The offensive, intoxicating fumes entered my nose, and I gagged.

I never got used to that horrible smell.

My mother noticed me and smiled. I always felt disturbed when she did that because she was missing four front teeth. That was a result of a bar fight she started in her youth.

The story was that she got mad at an annoying “fish guy” who wouldn’t stop talking about a spotted bass he caught.

She told him to shut his mouth. He refused.

She then grabbed a beer bottle and smashed it over his head.

His wife happened to be around and saw the whole thing unfold.

They got into the most ferocious catfight in the history of Brightwood Lake.

Apparently, the fish guy’s wife was worse off than my mother after the fight came to its natural conclusion.

My mother is still banned from that bar. Her name is Sheri Boruta, and she has a bounty picture that’s put up in that very establishment. She was proud of it. I wouldn’t be. In that picture, she has her creepy, toothless smile. She’ll never get them fixed.

She called me over to sit down with her. That was about the last thing I wanted to do. I was sweaty, hungry, and very angry at Luna Rivas. Despite this, I reluctantly complied. If I didn’t go over to her, I would’ve never heard the end of it.

“Hey, boo,” she said.

“Hi.”

“How was school?”

“It was fine.”

“How many months do you have left again?”

“A few,” I said.

“Sorry, I know I’ve asked, but I always forget.”

“You’ve never asked me.”

“Oh.”

“It’s fine. I graduate soon anyway,” I replied.

“Right, right. So, you’re going to college around here, right? There’s Central Gate Community College, there’s that technical school down by the lake, and there are a few others,” she explained.

“Mom, we’ve already discussed this,” I said with irritation in my voice.

She pouted her lips and angrily clenched her jaw.

“Don’t talk to me like that. I’m not some piece of trash on the street. I’m your mother. I’m not your father. That cheating mother…,” she trailed off.

“I know, Mom. I didn’t mean to say it like that,” I said apologetically.

“It’s okay, it’s fine. I get a little stressed when you talk about college because you make me feel like you’re leaving,” she added.

“Well, I would like to go to Bright Rock, like I’ve said before. It’s an Ivy League school, and I’m practically already in. I’ve been emailing the admissions team. It’s going pretty well. They want students who are focused on computer science and engineering, like me,” I explained.

“Yeah, but you don’t care about all that.

All those computers and typing on a keyboard for eight hours a day are going to be so boring for you.

You need to be active with your hands. Maybe you can do welding or construction.

Those jobs pay well, and you get to move around.

You’re not stuck at a desk all day. That will make you suicidal, and my son isn’t going to be a depressed little slave working for those big tech companies,” she replied.

I stayed quiet and pretended to watch the nonsense she was watching on TV.

I talked about going to Bright Rock before.

It seemed to be the only thing we talked about.

She was hellbent on making me stay with her in Brightwood Lake.

My father had cheated on her and left us both, but that was a long time ago.

She still hadn’t moved on, but I was ready to.

There was nothing left for me at Brightwood except my best friends.

They planned to go to faraway universities as well, anyway.

I sighed and tried to stay calm.

“You’re probably right. I’m not entirely sure if I’ll get in anyway. They might be stringing me along,” I remarked.

“Are you kidding me? They’re a huge university. They’re definitely full of it. They only wanna get those rich white kids or those Chinese math geniuses,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“You’re a good kid. I know you won’t abandon me like your dirtbag dad did. I know I’d never abandon you. I’m the good parent. I’m the one who never left and who’ll never leave,” she said as she slapped my cheek.

“I know.” I nodded.

“Don’t you ever forget that.”

“I’m going to my room,” I said.

“Okay, sweetie. Go ahead; I know you’re tired from school. How was the walk, by the way?” she asked.

“Still long.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I know you want me to pick you up, but I have so many errands to run during that time. The exercise is good for you anyway. I used to walk home from school all the time, too. My mom never wanted to pick me up from school. She was a real bitch, your grandma,” she said.

“Yeah. At least she left you all that jewelry,” I pointed out.

“Oh, if she didn’t, I would’ve gotten it anyway. I’m her only living daughter; I would’ve sued,” she clarified.

“Right,” I answered.

I scurried away to my room, avoiding stepping on the dead roaches and empty bags of chips on the floor.

Before I closed my door, my mother shouted out that she needed me to buy her cigarettes later.

I often thought that she only wanted me around to claim me for her taxes.

Also, because she wanted me to continue to get the groceries, pills, cigarettes, and other annoying things she made me do.

I only told her what she wanted to hear, but I knew I was getting accepted into Bright Rock on a full scholarship.

I’d be a complete moron if I gave that up.

When the time came, I would let her know that I was leaving.

I mentally prepared myself for that and knew there would be a massive, ugly argument.

I would cross that bridge when I had to.

For now, my attention was focused on my worsening feud with Heather.

I lay down on my pathetic excuse of a bed and wiped the sweat off my forehead.

I whipped out my phone and searched for the “Brightwood High Scraps” social media video that had been uploaded recently.

It was the one that showed the fight between Heather, Angelica, Erica, Eddy, and Vivian.

I rewatched the whole thing in awe. I couldn’t believe how much of a dumb brute Angelica turned out to be.

Anyone who knew anything about digital photo editing could’ve figured out that I had forged those hilarious posts directed at her, although Manny helped me with them.

He was on another level. They looked incredibly real, and I’m lucky that she didn’t bother to verify them before she went apeshit on Heather.

After I rewatched that, I noticed that Luna’s video about me was in my suggestions.

I clicked on it and cringed hard when I heard her shrill voice.

I squeezed my phone so hard I almost crushed the screen in anger.

I couldn’t believe how much of a bitch she turned out to be.

She was just like Heather. She was yet another insufferable, morally superior feminist idiot who deserved to be thrown in a maximum security prison.

I knew I had been nice to her, but I should’ve known this was coming.

Before I left school, Carlos texted me that he saw both of them talking on the bleachers.

That’s definitely when they plotted this stupid little video, trying to expose me again.

It was fine. I planned to kill two birds with one stone during Frank Jackson’s upcoming party.