Page 7 of My Rules for Revenge (Twisted YA Mysteries #1)

W hen I first enrolled at Brightwood High, I was afraid of the change.

I had transferred high schools because of the distance. My mother wasn’t able to drive me to my previous private school anymore, and we were no longer able to afford it anyway.

I didn’t have friends at my previous school, and I didn’t know how to talk to people very well. I usually kept quiet and focused on my studies.

I quickly started to hate my English class.

When I first entered, everyone stared at me like I was a mutant or something.

I felt so out of place. I kept my head down and rushed to the back of the class, where a few jocks sat.

They wore varsity polo shirts and didn’t take any notes in class—they were definitely jocks.

I sat next to one who was quite tall and muscular. He was sitting down, but his legs barely fit underneath his desk. He looked like a giant trying to sit on a tiny chair. He had a buzz cut and wore a bright purple windbreaker embedded with the Brightwood Bears logo.

When he finished snickering with his teammates, he turned his attention to me. I tried my best to ignore him, but his piercing eyes were fixed on me. It felt like he was trying to look inside me. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to intimidate me or if he was curious about me.

“Hey, I’m Frank, but my friends call me Frankie . You’re new?” Frankie asked.

“Yes.”

“What’s your name?”

“Indira Guerra.”

“Oh, okay. First name and last name. Well, I’m officially Frank Jackson. Welcome to this boring-ass class, India.”

“My name is Indira .”

“What?”

“Never mind,” I said as I rolled my eyes.

I grinned and looked away. I was hoping he would leave me alone, but apparently, he was interested in me.

“Are you from around here? You look exotic, like those ‘ models ’ from HotGirls,” Frankie smirked.

I was completely taken aback by the question as his friends obnoxiously giggled behind him.

I wasn’t offended by the fact that he thought I was a model.

I was offended that he thought I would degrade myself to be on HotGirls.

I knew that he was only trying to get under my skin.

He barely knew me, and he was already behaving like an ass.

“No, I’m not a HotGirls model, because I’m not old enough, and even if I were a model, I would certainly not be on HotGirls,” I scoffed. “I’m not that type of girl,” I assured him.

“My bad. I didn’t mean to offend. You wanna tell me where you’re from at least, or am I gonna have to guess?” Frankie asked.

He smiled, flashing his pearly white teeth.

“I’m from Nicaragua.”

“Nicaragua? What state is that? I have no idea where the hell that is,” Frankie admitted.

“It’s a country,” I clarified.

“Are you a quiet person?” Frankie asked.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Frankie asked.

I shrugged and pretended to focus on the teacher. Frankie frowned and turned away from me.

“Sorry, boys. It looks like she’s the quiet type. On to the next.”

Frank and his friends laughed aloud as our English teacher loudly shushed them. They didn’t care. In their eyes, they could do whatever they wanted.

I later learned that Brightwood High had one of the best basketball programs in South Florida. Their teams typically made the playoffs every year. The school made a hefty amount of money from ticket sales and sponsorships. The football and baseball programs weren’t far behind either.

My father was an accountant, and my mother was a housewife. This was mainly because my father was a controlling psycho. He wanted to be the only one making money and wanted to control all of our finances.

After many years of marriage, my mother managed to convince my father to allow her to take online business classes. When she began to take them, I usually found her asleep at the computer. I tried my best to wake her up whenever I saw her asleep, fearing my father’s temper.

Despite my efforts, my father saw her a few times dozing off and got really angry.

He argued as to why he paid for the classes if my mother wasn’t paying attention.

She usually blew him off because she didn’t want to argue.

This only made my father angrier. This happened a lot.

Whenever they had their annoying arguments, I hid in my room—it was my only sanctuary, the only escape I had from the yelling and the noise.

My parents weren’t involved in my personal life much. They knew nothing of my favorite hobbies or if I had any friends in school. They never asked. All they cared about was whether or not I had good grades in my classes.

They regularly asked if I was on track to secure a scholarship to a prestigious university to study chemistry. I was…until I was forced to leave, and after what happened, I never went back there.

It all started when I met Heather Chang.

I needed to get into more extracurricular activities for college and wanted to join the book club.

I wasn’t interested in reading anymore, but I thought the big universities would appreciate a student who was involved in the literary arts.

Little did I know that the president of the book club was an explosive firecracker whose life would unexpectedly intertwine with mine for the worse.

I nervously stood outside the book club room and didn’t dare to peek inside. Heather was there. She was rigorously cleaning a spot on the wall with a scrub brush and a moist rag. There seemed to be a spray-painted symbol that she was desperately trying to remove.

I thought about coming back another time, but I looked at the flyer on the door that stated, “Join the book club. Looks great on a college application.” It gave me the push I needed to just do it.

I took it as a sign. I slowly entered and held the door behind me as it shut.

Heather swiveled her head back and nodded at me. I awkwardly waved.

“Hello! Sorry, I’m cleaning this monstrosity here,” Heather said while continuing to clean.

I stepped forward to get a better look. All I could make out was that it was a large, round shape with squiggly lines inside the interior. I thought it was a pulsating potato.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what is that?”

“Some brain-dead degenerate broke in here and spray-painted a giant penis on the wall. Super hilarious, right?” Heather asked.

My eyes widened in shock.

“Oh my god. Why would someone do that?”

I knew that most of the kids at that school were savages, but I couldn’t believe that someone went out of their way to spray paint something like that inside a classroom.

“Vandalizing this room has been a running joke for many months now. There are no cameras in this hallway, so it’s a free-for-all. The principal is too busy sexting his mistress to care. Isn’t this school the greatest?” Heather asked sarcastically.

“That’s terrible. Is that true?” I asked, rather surprised.

“Yeah. No. I don’t know. I’m talking nonsense. His wife is divorcing him, though, so it’s probably true. Most of the adult men in this town are cheaters. Don’t ask me why. It’s just how it is. I think it’s a supernatural force that invaded their tiny little monkey brains. That’s my theory.”

“Monkey brains. That’s an interesting theory.”

“I’m Heather, by the way. Sorry for rambling like a crazy old grandma.”

“It’s okay. It’s nice to meet you—I’m Indira,” I giggled.

“Are you a sophomore?”

“Yes, I am. We don’t have any classes together, unfortunately,” I remarked.

Heather put aside her cleaning supplies and got up. She faced me, and we shook hands.

“Fortunate for you. I like fighting with my teachers when they’re annoying. The other students either find it funny or try to shut me up. I don’t usually shut up,” Heather asserted.

“I see.”

Heather unexpectedly laughed, and I grinned.

“Are you quiet? You seem like a quiet girl. Am I wrong? You can tell me if I’m wrong.”

“I am.”

“That’s okay. I’ll get you to talk.”

“But I thought this was a reading club.”

“It is, but I like to have literary discussions. If we just sat here and read, that would be really weird,” Heather explained.

“That would be weird.”

“So here’s the deal about this club. Barely anyone attends.

I’m usually here alone. Most of the students who signed up did it for their academic records.

They just want to be able to write it down on a college application.

I don’t like that, but it was the only way I could keep my funding.

Our big, dumbass principal threatened to shut me down. ”

“Well, I want to come here. It looks like a nice place. Aside from that monstrosity, of course.”

“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, that giant penis will be erased shortly. In fact, do you wanna help me? Cleaning’s fun. I swear,” Heather joked.

“You think so?” I asked.

“No, but I won’t let you join if you don’t help me,” Heather teased.

“Really?” I asked.

“No, but would you? Please?”

I smiled. Heather was a funny person. Initially, I was glad I walked in.

“I don’t mind. I’ll help you,” I offered.

“Good. You have no choice anyway,” Heather snickered.

We both grabbed a scrub brush and got to work. Our friendship had started off so well that it was a shame it went down in flames.