Marilyn didn’t answer Brooke. She stared at me with pure, unadulterated hatred.
“You’re dead to me,” Marilyn whispered.
“I was already dead to you on Sunday night,” I said. “Now move away from my car before Brenda calls the sheriff.”
Chapter 1: The Boy Who Wouldn’t Kneel
The first thing I heard was the sound of my hoodie tearing. Not completely. Just a small, sharp rip near the collar as the varsity wrestling captain tightened his fist…
