Read Online Gone For You: New Kings Motorcycle Club by Amri Ackers - Free Book Online
Authors: Amri Ackers
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1 - Sherry
I LOVE THE CHANCE to be the new girl. I realize that I have some pretty ridiculous self-esteem issues because I practically need the fresh start of starting a new school.
Seventh grade now and another new school? This is precisely the fresh start that I need. I will have a style I have perfected as my own, get every school notebook exactly as it needs to be, and I will be aware of all my favorite books and musical artists. Adults think that teens and preteens (what to rude that word is and means) are always changing and going through phases. They don't understand: we are evolving, growing into ourselves. We are young and are discovering the things that were always meant to define us, be part of us.
My Dad is in the military. Army. That means that we move somewhere else about every three years. And these past few moves have been very formative indeed. I feel the rush already of getting everything right. Fresh start.
I have just the outfit picked out. I have color coded folders and binders and notebooks based on the schedules.
I am totally prepared for this first day. So of course I can't sleep tonight!
Saying “before I knew it I saw the sun rise” is inaccurate. My mind raced through the night and I didn't sleep, but I knew how painstakingly long I was awake. And I got that ironic twinge of tiredness as I worked the coffee pot. There is always just enough to fill my travel mug after my father takes his coffee to work. My mother likes a little coffee in her creamer. I drink it black so I get plenty.
Teachers often don't know how to handle me having coffee in first period. When I find my way to my first class, my teacher is chugging back her own in the same metallic cup. Military teachers know they get new kids all the time, so I just smile. Introduce myself. Sit in a front row seat.
I sit in the front. I take notes. I am organized. I find teachers can always appreciate this. But students my age, not so much. I don't care. It is called school, not popularity contest.
But second period, and the coffee high doesn't mix well with the teacher I have now.
An unfortunate leathery bully of a teacher takes to me just fine. I answer every question correctly.
But I lay eyes on the smirking boy he mocks, and I'm racing in my mind all over again with no real thoughts. Just...something about him.
The teacher asks me to tutor him, and asks me to go sit in the back with him.
Thor-effing-A! That works for me.
I smile at him.
He smiles at not my eyes but the tight shirt across my breasts.
Oh damn...just something about him that should turn me off to him makes me...excited in a way I have never felt before.
I introduce myself to him quietly, and though the teacher called him Caleb, he tells me that he is Cale. The way he paused, and really looked into my eyes. It practically melted me into my seat and I hoped I didn't look silly when I smiled back.
Through class I almost tune everything out as the assignment of the day will be to memorize the names of the first ten presidents in order is something I don't need to pay attention to. I already know that. So I listen in case there is anything else I need to know...but I don't.
I can't help it.
I am totally staring at Cale.
I can tell that his family doesn't have any money because he has a battered ancient hoodie on with ratty jeans and crappy old boots, but I don't care.
My family is broke, too, and I care just enough to keep my uniform of regular looks together. I admit without shame that I have good boobs and I will be damnedest I'd I ain't gonna show them off. I wear boots every day - the knee high and heeled kind. Once I got my Mom to buy them, I knew I would never stop wearing them. I could give two shits that I am always looking out of place. I am damned smart so I am always out of place anywhere.
Cale, he is out of place but because he has this whole bad boy thing going on. Bad boys have never had any allure for me in general. But Cale’s highjacked my
I LOVE THE CHANCE to be the new girl. I realize that I have some pretty ridiculous self-esteem issues because I practically need the fresh start of starting a new school.
Seventh grade now and another new school? This is precisely the fresh start that I need. I will have a style I have perfected as my own, get every school notebook exactly as it needs to be, and I will be aware of all my favorite books and musical artists. Adults think that teens and preteens (what to rude that word is and means) are always changing and going through phases. They don't understand: we are evolving, growing into ourselves. We are young and are discovering the things that were always meant to define us, be part of us.
My Dad is in the military. Army. That means that we move somewhere else about every three years. And these past few moves have been very formative indeed. I feel the rush already of getting everything right. Fresh start.
I have just the outfit picked out. I have color coded folders and binders and notebooks based on the schedules.
I am totally prepared for this first day. So of course I can't sleep tonight!
Saying “before I knew it I saw the sun rise” is inaccurate. My mind raced through the night and I didn't sleep, but I knew how painstakingly long I was awake. And I got that ironic twinge of tiredness as I worked the coffee pot. There is always just enough to fill my travel mug after my father takes his coffee to work. My mother likes a little coffee in her creamer. I drink it black so I get plenty.
Teachers often don't know how to handle me having coffee in first period. When I find my way to my first class, my teacher is chugging back her own in the same metallic cup. Military teachers know they get new kids all the time, so I just smile. Introduce myself. Sit in a front row seat.
I sit in the front. I take notes. I am organized. I find teachers can always appreciate this. But students my age, not so much. I don't care. It is called school, not popularity contest.
But second period, and the coffee high doesn't mix well with the teacher I have now.
An unfortunate leathery bully of a teacher takes to me just fine. I answer every question correctly.
But I lay eyes on the smirking boy he mocks, and I'm racing in my mind all over again with no real thoughts. Just...something about him.
The teacher asks me to tutor him, and asks me to go sit in the back with him.
Thor-effing-A! That works for me.
I smile at him.
He smiles at not my eyes but the tight shirt across my breasts.
Oh damn...just something about him that should turn me off to him makes me...excited in a way I have never felt before.
I introduce myself to him quietly, and though the teacher called him Caleb, he tells me that he is Cale. The way he paused, and really looked into my eyes. It practically melted me into my seat and I hoped I didn't look silly when I smiled back.
Through class I almost tune everything out as the assignment of the day will be to memorize the names of the first ten presidents in order is something I don't need to pay attention to. I already know that. So I listen in case there is anything else I need to know...but I don't.
I can't help it.
I am totally staring at Cale.
I can tell that his family doesn't have any money because he has a battered ancient hoodie on with ratty jeans and crappy old boots, but I don't care.
My family is broke, too, and I care just enough to keep my uniform of regular looks together. I admit without shame that I have good boobs and I will be damnedest I'd I ain't gonna show them off. I wear boots every day - the knee high and heeled kind. Once I got my Mom to buy them, I knew I would never stop wearing them. I could give two shits that I am always looking out of place. I am damned smart so I am always out of place anywhere.
Cale, he is out of place but because he has this whole bad boy thing going on. Bad boys have never had any allure for me in general. But Cale’s highjacked my
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