Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
For now, I just needed to get away before Juan blasted my magic rope with his fire. I honestly wasn’t sure which would win—could the rope my magic needle had made withstand an angry Drake’s flame?
Best not to find out.
Taking a deep breath, I started sliding down. I could feel the thin rope—seriously, it was no thicker than my pinky—slipping through my palms faster and faster as the floor got closer and closer. This rapid descent resulted in a burning pain—I could feel the thin rope cutting into my palms—but what else could I do? Better a few rope burns on my palms than being burned to death by an angry, homophobic Drake or my brains splattered on the flagstones below.
In short order I reached the floor with burning palms but I wasn’t out of the woods yet. The moment my sneakered feet touched the stones, the remaining Drakes moved to surround me.
“Lookit the Sister,” Sergio Nunez jeered. “Did you use your girly magic to get down, faggot?”
“He was afraid Juan was going to fry his ass,” said another Drake, which was accompanied by a burst of trollish laughter.
“Yes, I did use my magic,” I snapped. “Did you figure that out all by yourself, Nunez? How terribly clever of you—keep on like that and you’ll get all the way to the top of the remedial class.”
It maybe wasn’t the nicest thing to say—or the smartest—but by then I’d had quite enough of being bullied by Drakes that were all so much bigger than me, thank you very much.
Sergio Nunez knitted his thick black brows together but before he could think of a comeback—(he really wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, though he definitely was a tool)—I lowered my head and pushed past him.
My intention was to get through the ring of Drakes that was forming around me and exit the gymnasium as quickly as possible. Screw the rest of gym class—I was out of there.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t looking where I was going and I ran head-long into Coach. Vazquez who—though she had conveniently disappeared when my life was on the line—was definitely here for me trying to leave her class early.
“And just where do you think you’re going, Mr. Connor?” she snapped, glaring at me.
“Out,” I said, glaring right back. “If you can’t be bothered to stay with your students long enough to be sure they don’t kill each other, I’m afraid I can’t be bothered to stay in your shitty little gym class.”
I knew the moment the words left my mouth that I had gone too far. But the adrenaline coursing through my body put my mouth into overdrive. Sometimes, living in a world that hates me, it feels like sarcasm is the only weapon I have at my disposal and I’m often guilty of using it when I really shouldn’t.
Coach Vasquez’s eyes grew dark and an ugly sneer that made her look much older than she probably was spread over her stern features.
“Oh, I think you’ll be staying a little bit longer, Connor,” she said. “At least until the end of my ‘shitty little gym class.’ Back in line and climb that rope.”
And she put both hands on my chest and shoved.
Now, if I was a manly macho man, I’d say there was no way a woman should have been able to shove me like that. But as I said, I’m only 5’6 and even though I’m in good shape, Coach Vasquez is a Drake and she’s built like one. Which is to say, if she went up against a tank, I wouldn’t place my bet on the tank.
So her shove was no small thing. It sent me tumbling backwards into the crowd of Drakes gathered behind me. There was a dull rumble of delighted laughter and then I felt big, meaty hands grabbing me.
“We’ll make sure he climbs the rope, Coach!” Sergio Nunez snarled. “We’ll make sure the little fag goes all the way to the top…and then all the way back down again.”
“Whatever.” There was a malevolent gleam in her dark eyes as she turned her back and headed away. “I’ll be in my office with the door shut—I doubt I’ll hear a thing.”
I gaped at her as she actually did go back to her office and shut the door—then drew the shade for good measure. Was she serious? Did she really intend to leave me in the hands of my enemies and let them do anything they wanted to me?
What do you mean “is she going to?” She already did! shouted the voice of self-preservation in my head. And if you don’t get away from them fast, you’re going to be dead!
As this realization hit me, I started to struggle. But the big, meaty hands holding me only tightened their grip.
“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, mariposa,” Nunez hissed in my ear. “Not until we settle our score with you. And oh look—here comes Gonzales right now to settle it.”