Read Online Luckiest Bastard (Bastard #1.5) by J. L. Perry - Free Book Online
Authors: J. L. Perry
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new home is my castle.
I can’t believe I’m rich.
Boy I’d love to rub this in Ruby’s face if I could. She’s one of the mean girls from the orphanage. She was always horrible to me. She used to tip water on my mattress and then tell everyone that I peed the bed.
I gently place my suitcase on top of the covers when I approach my new bed. “Get that filthy thing off there,” Melody screeches, making me jump with fright.
Quickly picking it back up, I clutch it to my chest before turning to face her. “I’m sorry, Melody.”
“Come with me,” she snaps in a harsh tone as she walks towards the white door on the other side of the room. My heart starts to race. I hope she’s not going to lock me in the cupboard. At one of the foster homes I stayed at a few years ago, I’d get locked in a cupboard for hours sometimes. It was so dark and scary.
I release the nervous breath I’m holding when she opens the door that leads to a large white bathroom. “Give me that bag and take off your clothes,” she orders.
“Sorry?” I’m confused.
“Take off your clothes, Jade.” Her voice is stern so I do as I’m told. My hands are shaking as I undo the buttons on my favourite pink dress. “Everything,” she adds when I’m down to my underwear. Once I remove my panties, I use both my hands to cover my private parts. Bending down, she screws up her face and picks my clothes off the floor with two fingers, like I have jimmy germs or something. “I want you take a bath and get dressed in your new clothes. When you’re done, come downstairs for lunch. You’ll find everything you need in the chest of drawers next to your bed.”
“Where are you taking my clothes?” I ask in a quiet voice.
“These rags? There going in the rubbish bin, where they belong. You won’t be needing them anymore. I’m sure you’ll be happy with the purchases I’ve made for you.”
Noooo. Not my most treasured possessions.
With that she turns, leaving me all alone. I successfully manage to fight back the tears that threaten to fall. Over the years I’ve become a master at it. I quickly learnt that crying only seemed to get me in more trouble.
•
As upset as I was at the time, my measly possessions where soon forgotten as the weeks passed. I now had a wardrobe full of beautiful clothes, and shoes. There was even pretty bows for me to wear in my hair. Life here was good.
I was immediately placed into one of the most exclusive all-girl schools in the country. I’d attended over twenty different public schools in the six years I’d been in foster care. Although I was bright, I was a little behind on my school work because I’d been shuffled from one home to the next. M hired private tutors to help me catch up. That’s what I now call her. I found out the initials M. M. stood for Miss Melody, but she preferred just plain M.
It would be another seven years until I’d find out the true meaning behind those initials .
She also went as far as putting me into speech therapy. I thought there was nothing wrong with the way I spoke, but she disagreed. Apparently talking like you have a plum in your mouth is the way people communicate in her circle. Ridiculous if you ask me, but I went along with it to keep her happy. To be honest, at the time I was grateful she seemed to care. Boy, were those thoughts misguided. It was all just part of her devious, masterful plan.
On weekends, I attended one of the finest finishing schools money could buy. She said I wasn’t refined enough for a lady. Newsflash, I ain’t no lady. Well I wasn’t at the time. I was an eleven-year-old girl that, due to her past, was extremely tough and street smart. Over the next few years though, that’s exactly what I became.
A lady .
Once I hit fourteen, I was given my own personal trainer to help me stay in shape. Her words, not mine. At my age, even I knew that was kind of ridiculous. There was nothing wrong with my body. I was tall and slim
I can’t believe I’m rich.
Boy I’d love to rub this in Ruby’s face if I could. She’s one of the mean girls from the orphanage. She was always horrible to me. She used to tip water on my mattress and then tell everyone that I peed the bed.
I gently place my suitcase on top of the covers when I approach my new bed. “Get that filthy thing off there,” Melody screeches, making me jump with fright.
Quickly picking it back up, I clutch it to my chest before turning to face her. “I’m sorry, Melody.”
“Come with me,” she snaps in a harsh tone as she walks towards the white door on the other side of the room. My heart starts to race. I hope she’s not going to lock me in the cupboard. At one of the foster homes I stayed at a few years ago, I’d get locked in a cupboard for hours sometimes. It was so dark and scary.
I release the nervous breath I’m holding when she opens the door that leads to a large white bathroom. “Give me that bag and take off your clothes,” she orders.
“Sorry?” I’m confused.
“Take off your clothes, Jade.” Her voice is stern so I do as I’m told. My hands are shaking as I undo the buttons on my favourite pink dress. “Everything,” she adds when I’m down to my underwear. Once I remove my panties, I use both my hands to cover my private parts. Bending down, she screws up her face and picks my clothes off the floor with two fingers, like I have jimmy germs or something. “I want you take a bath and get dressed in your new clothes. When you’re done, come downstairs for lunch. You’ll find everything you need in the chest of drawers next to your bed.”
“Where are you taking my clothes?” I ask in a quiet voice.
“These rags? There going in the rubbish bin, where they belong. You won’t be needing them anymore. I’m sure you’ll be happy with the purchases I’ve made for you.”
Noooo. Not my most treasured possessions.
With that she turns, leaving me all alone. I successfully manage to fight back the tears that threaten to fall. Over the years I’ve become a master at it. I quickly learnt that crying only seemed to get me in more trouble.
•
As upset as I was at the time, my measly possessions where soon forgotten as the weeks passed. I now had a wardrobe full of beautiful clothes, and shoes. There was even pretty bows for me to wear in my hair. Life here was good.
I was immediately placed into one of the most exclusive all-girl schools in the country. I’d attended over twenty different public schools in the six years I’d been in foster care. Although I was bright, I was a little behind on my school work because I’d been shuffled from one home to the next. M hired private tutors to help me catch up. That’s what I now call her. I found out the initials M. M. stood for Miss Melody, but she preferred just plain M.
It would be another seven years until I’d find out the true meaning behind those initials .
She also went as far as putting me into speech therapy. I thought there was nothing wrong with the way I spoke, but she disagreed. Apparently talking like you have a plum in your mouth is the way people communicate in her circle. Ridiculous if you ask me, but I went along with it to keep her happy. To be honest, at the time I was grateful she seemed to care. Boy, were those thoughts misguided. It was all just part of her devious, masterful plan.
On weekends, I attended one of the finest finishing schools money could buy. She said I wasn’t refined enough for a lady. Newsflash, I ain’t no lady. Well I wasn’t at the time. I was an eleven-year-old girl that, due to her past, was extremely tough and street smart. Over the next few years though, that’s exactly what I became.
A lady .
Once I hit fourteen, I was given my own personal trainer to help me stay in shape. Her words, not mine. At my age, even I knew that was kind of ridiculous. There was nothing wrong with my body. I was tall and slim
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