X-Treme Measure (26 page)

Listen on Spotify: smarturl.it/xmplaylist

Naked, Avril Lavigne

Break In, Halestorm

Don’t Let Me Be Lonely, The Band Perry

Love Me Like You Do, Ellie Goulding

Love Me Like You Mean It, Kelsea Ballerini

My Eyes, Blake Shelton

One Last Night, Vaults

Murder, Justin Timberlake

You Got It, Blake McGrath

Earned It, Blake McGrath

Ugly Love, Griffin Peterson

What a Girl Wants, Christina Aguilera

Naught Girl, Beyoncé

U Turn, Chase Rice

A Thousand Miles, Vanessa Carlton

Come Clean, Hilary Duff

Acknowledgements

Everyone made this possible@! Thank you to everyone who is giving my books a chance!

Stephanie
!


Sneak Peek at the cover and first 5 chapters!

Bad Rep

A SoIn novel, #1

Coming January 2017

***UNEDITED***

Chapter 1

Penny, freshman year

Missed the bus, again. Great. This has been a regular occurrence since the beginning of school. Oh, that was only three months ago. This was the seventh time I’ve had to stay late for an assignment. I wasn’t even in the smart classes. I was an average student. Actually, I was a borderline B student. I don’t know why it was hard for me to learn sometimes, but I always asked a million questions. I didn’t think I was slow; I'm sure if I applied myself in my studies, I'd make better grades. Although other kids did make fun of me sometimes. I didn’t let most of it get to me.

The only thing I was good at was playing my flute. Band was the only class I got an A in.

I had a decent home life. My dad worked at a plant, and for a long time, my mother didn’t work. It hadn’t been until two years ago when he as laid off, he had to find another job and the pay cut was more than my parents were used to. My mother had to find herself a job. She worked as a night cashier. So I was home most nights by myself. Since they both worked the evening shifts, I usually just fended for myself. I had a Netflix addiction like crazy.

I had an older brother, Patrick, but my parents disowned him when he came out of the closet. Yes, my older brother was a homosexual and my parents, being die-hard Catholics thought it a travesty and at the young age of nineteen was told to pack his things and move out; that was six years ago. I didn't talk to him very often, since he moved to Houston. I didn't know what he was doing there. All he ever wrote was he was doing fine. And that He misses me. Not my parents. Me. He had always been an awesome older brother. Even though he was ten years older than I was, I missed him. He always had a way of making me feel good about myself.

I could barely remember what he looked like. My parents removed all the pictures of him. Like he wasn't supposed to exist anymore. I was what they call a surprise baby. My parents were in their forties when they had me.

That's how our small town was. A little bit on the religious side. Ha! A little. I did my best to stay the quiet, little nobody I was. Under the strict thumb of my parents. They weren't bad people. But their views were so old-fashioned, no one could sway them. Our home was modest. A three bedroom, one bath home that was just enough room for us.

The little town of Lilton, Texas was so far out in the country that if you couldn't find it at the local 7-11, you had to drive forty-five minutes to get to the outskirts of Houston to even fined a Wal-Mart.

Lilton was made up of three types of neighborhoods. Which anyone could guess. There was one neighborhood that was deed restricted. It was a gated community and had a guard and everything. Then there was where my parents lived. We were you basic middle class family. Maybe a little less than middle class because our home use to belong to my dad’s parents and then theirs before them. It's not the nicest home and it's the closest home to where the few trailer parks resided.

Walking home from school was not what I had in mind today, but I didn't have a cell phone, so calling and asking for a ride was out of the question unlike a lot of over kids my age, we couldn't afford one.

I didn't have many friends. Well. One. I had exactly one friend. Sasha. We were in band together. Yeah. I was a band nerd. Music was the only thing I never got right. Although trying out for the marching band…did not go well. I was clumsy.

I played the flute. It came to me naturally when I decided to try out back in the sixth grade. Music was my thing. My passion. Music and reading. But not boring old text books. I loved mysteries. I watched every episode of Criminal Minds, CSI, and The Killing. Hence. The Netflix. Not that I was in anyway nerdy or techy but I loved a good mystery.

Sasha was one of the five black families that lived in our town. They lived in the trailer park a few streets down from my neighborhood. Her mother was a nurse at the hospital, and she worked all the time. She said her dad died when she was little and lived in Houston. He was a cop but had died in the line of duty. They couldn't afford living there so her mother transferred to Lilton General. But as Lilton grew bigger, there were more neighborhoods being built, we began to have more of a diversity of people moving in. And Sasha began to get popular when we hit high school and became a cheerleader. She was always nice to me. And we hung out sometimes after school to practice our instruments. We're we best friends? Not so much since high school. But she didn't snub me like most girls did. I was the band nerd. Which I never really understood because there was a lot of chicks in band. I didn't think I was because I wasn't a part of the marching band. That was a little too much for me. But then the band geeks had their own group and I wasn't really a part of that either. I kept to myself a lot.

I was walking through town when I came up on an alley that cut off half the time it took to get home. I turned onto the back alley, the short cut to the neighborhood. Saved me the extra twenty minutes of walking. Only problem was, even when it was sunny and bright, the alley was dank and dark. A little creepy because it rained so heavily yesterday but I didn't have a problem. The crime in this town was minimal.

I was half way down ‘Knockturn Alley’ (Heeheehee. Harry Potter humor.) I heard a few footsteps behind me. Not close enough to worry about, but I moved just a bit more quickly. I looked to the side to see what building I was behind a tattoo parlor, Southern Ink was written on the back door and I was just about to turn my head to see if it was some other kids taking a short cut too but instead it was three tall guys, I recognize them as the popular kids in senior class.

I only knew that because every Friday we had a mandatory pep rally, and those three were on the football team. Always loud and hollering like Neanderthals. One of them had a little brother, Jimmy that was in band with me. He always made fun of me and called me nasty names. Why? I don't know. The only thing I could think of was the incident in eighth grade. Me and Jimmy were friends in fifth and sixth grade and got into band together. Then eighth grade happened and he started trying to be more. When I didn't want ‘more’, he started with the names.

They stopped when I looked at them and each one of them had a sneaky, snake-like smile on their faces. I turned and rushed down the alleyway. I heard heavy footsteps running and splashing, laughing along the way.

“Wait up, blondie!”

Oh, crap. They were running towards me. I was almost to the end of the alley, where there was brighter light when I was tackled from behind.

My hands hit the pavement hard and I could feel the uneven gravel pressing and scraping my skin as my face hit my hands. I let out a scream and hoped someone heard me.

The guy on top of me, grabbed a hold of my hair, which was becoming damp because of course I wasn't on dry asphalt. It was wet and smelled…not clean. He pushed my face down, and I felt the skin tear on my cheek.

“Hey, retard. My little brother told me that you were a big lesbo. You sure you don't like dick?”

“Get off me.” I muffled. Struggling to free myself but it was useless. The other two boys were standing back laughing and enjoying me being beat up on.

The older brother, I didn't know his name, had turned me around, my floral blouse that my mom made me, was muddy and wet and plastered on my body. I shoved my palm upward. The only real self-defense I knew was what I saw off TV. But it was good enough for the moment because I hit his nose and heard a crunch.

“Fucking bitch!” The guy landed backward and I scrambled up and unto my feet. “Get her!”

I began running as fast as I could but it was fruitless because they were bigger, stronger and faster.

I felt a hand grab a fistful of my blouse, and pulled me backward and I was shoved up against the alley wall, my head meeting he brick none too gently, and I felt the wind get knocked out of me.

“Hold her.” The guy I hit had blood running easily from his nose. “I like a fighter.”

“Geoffrey, I don't think that's a good idea.” The one on my left said.

“Then fucking leave. Pussy out if you have to.”

Geoffrey.

“We were just going to scare her.”

“You too? Fucking leave then.”

“Let's go.” The guy again on my left said.

Geoffrey growled and then punched my stomach hard. Once, and then I felt a punch to my ribs. I cried out. Toppling over.

“HEY!”

I heard a voice call out.

“Fuck! Let's go!”

Then Geoffrey leaned in, licked the shell of my ear (gross!) and whispered, “Until next time, lesbo. Oh if you tell anyone, I promise you will regret it.”

Then I looked to see them running down the alley way as I saw feet running past me. I fell to the ground, clutching my side. My face hurt, my hands hurt. Heck. Everything hurt. Tears were already falling from my eyes, and the sobbing that came from between my lips was coarse and uncontrollable.

I tried to get up but my body just gave out. I just wanted to hurry home—oh, no! My dad and mom were going to freak!

That just made me cry harder. They would demand who done this, and then there'd be hell to pay when those boys found out. I didn't hear the other twos names but that didn't matter. Geoffrey threatened me.

I heard sloshing and feet running back to me and I just curled into a fetal position hoping they didn't come back for more.

I felt a hand gently land on my shoulder but that didn't matter. Something snapped and I started kicking and fighting. Praying they'd just leave me alone.

“Hey, easy there, brawler.” A deep southern drawl pierced my ear drums and I took my hands away, opening my eyes. “That a girl. Easy, now. Ain't nobody gonna hurt you anymore, sweetheart.”

When I looked into the boys eyes, it was a sparkling grey. Like a winter storm. His jet black hair was shorn on the sides, leaving thick hair long in the front and slicked back. He was the most beautiful boy I've ever seen. And he saved my life.

I've seen him around before. He had a horrible reputation. Or so the rumors around this small town led me to believe. I let my eyes graze over him. He was only a few years older than I was, and lived in the poor side of town. I never got to see him up front and personal. On his left arm was a tattoo sleeve of thorns that went down to his wrist and went on underneath his shirt sleeve.

I didn't know his first name. A lot of people just said ‘that Morgan boy’ when referring to him. He had high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and full lips.

“Let me help you.”

He reached out to me again and I jerked back. My heart began racing like crazy and then it was like I was in a cloud of fog.

“Shit. You're hyperventilating. Breathe. Sweetheart, you gotta let me help you.”

I started to shake my head when his hands cupped my cheeks, and our eyes locked.

“Breathe. My name is Deke Morgan. I work over at Southern Ink. Shit. Your shirt is ripped. You're coming with me, little brawler.”

The next thing I knew, he scooped me into his arms and told me to hold on. The only place to put my arms was around his neck. I felt the corded muscles that were drawn tight on his neck like he was straining.

“I can walk. I know I'm heavy.”

Deke looked down to me and smiled this charming, dazzling smile that showed off his white teeth.

“Heavy? You're what? A buck twenty?”

A what? The look of confusion showed on my face when he shook his head and explained.

“You can't be over 120.”

A small gasp escaped. “I'm more than that. But thanks.”

“How much?”

“You aren't supposed to ask girls that.”

“Why not?”

“It's inappropriate.”

“Thank God I don't do appropriate anyway.”

I don’t know why but that made me laugh. When my face scrunched, the pain that had melted away with Deke sprung to life and made my face hurt.

Tears came back into my eyes and he cursed underneath his breath when he used his foot to open the back door to the parlor. It has been propped open.

“We'll get you all fixed up.” He walked through a cool hallway and into a room where a couch, table and chairs were with a TV. “Sit tight. Oh, uh. What's your name, sweetheart?”

“Penelope Handleman. Penny.”

“Nice to meet you Penelope.”

“Penny.”

He chuckled and sat me gently on the couch. Then he was gone. And I knew this boy just ruined me.