Finding Wonderful
(The Perfect Rebels, #1)
Jessica Sorensen
Contents
1. Willa
2. Gaige
3. Willa
4. Gaige
5. Willa
6. Gaige
7. Willa
8. Gaige
9. Willa
10. Gaige
11. Willa
About the Author
Also by Jessica Sorensen
Finding Wonderful
Jessica Sorensen
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2017 by Jessica Sorensen
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
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Cover design by Hang Le
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Chapter 1
Willa
I’m not a huge fan of violence, but I really wish someone would slap Mr. Bellingford across the face. While he’s usually a jerk, he seems extra douchey today and has made it his mission to rip Gaige Irvins’ confidence to shreds. Sure, Gaige has plenty of confidence to spare and may not be the nicest guy. His friends and him are referred to as the Perfect Rebels. I’m not sure who started the name—hell, it could’ve been them—but the name is fitting in a way. Because all of Gaige’s friends, including Gaige himself, are perfect, at least in the looks department. And they love to get into trouble. Although, they always manage to talk their way out of everything.
Yes, perfect indeed. But if I had my way, ‘douchebags’ would be added to their little group nickname.
Still, no matter my opinion of Gaige or the Perfect Rebels, he doesn’t deserve to be humiliated in front of the entire class by some high school teacher riding a twisted power trip.
Besides, no matter what my opinion is, my best friend Brecken swears Gaige is a decent guy at heart. That his popular, cocky, I-don’t-give-a-shit-about-anyone-because-all-the-girls-worship-me attitude is a facade. Or I guess I should say Brecken used to swear Gaige was a great guy.
Past tense, Willa. You need to get used to it.
My chest constricts, and I rub my hand over my aching heart, telling myself to breathe. That I’m going to have to get used to every memory of Brecken being in the past. Because that’s what he is now.
The past.
“You know what I’d really like to know?” Mr. Bellingford strolls up to Gaige’s desk. “How on earth you managed to make it all the way to your senior year when you can’t even answer a simple question on microorganisms. I’ll be surprised if you even graduate.”
Gaige brushes strands of his inky black hair out of his eyes and tries to win over Mr. Bellingford with one of his charming smiles. “I’m sorry I forgot to do the assigned reading, man. But I had a lot of stuff going on. Plus, we graduate in less than a month. You’re the only teacher still pushing the not-being-able-to-graduate threat.”
“Did you just call me man?” Mr. Bellingford places his palms on the desk, leaning in. “I’m not one of your asinine friends, Gaige. You will either address me as Mr. Bellingford or sir.”
“Using sir is a bit extreme, don’t you think?” Gaige replies, crossing his arms across his chest. “We’re not in the military, man.”
The class snickers and a couple of Gaige’s friends egg him on with cheers. I cringe, knowing Gaige probably made things worse for himself. But this is the cocky Gaige I know. The one who loves being cheered on at others’ expenses.
Mr. Bellingford’s face turns fire ant red as he stares Gaige down. When he opens his mouth, I expect him to yell at Gaige to go to the principal’s office.
But a malicious grin twists at his lips instead. “Tell me, Gaige, why do you think you’re so special? I’d say maybe it was because you’re too spoiled, but I think we all know that’s not the case. Maybe if your parents were around, you’d behave better.”
The class grows so quiet you can hear Sophie Hurley texting on her phone. Because the entire class knows that Gaige’s parents died in a car accident when he was about ten, and he now lives with his aunt. So does Mr. Bellingford.
My heart breaks at the pain in Gaige’s eyes. I recognize that pain all too well. It’s been burrowing in my heart for the last couple of months, ever since I watched my best friend be buried underneath the ground.
Mr. Bellingford's smile screams satisfaction as Gaige rises to his feet, about to explode.
I may not be a huge Gaige fan, but my disgust toward Mr. Bellingford is much greater than my disgust for Gaige. He’s a bully who gets his kicks off others pain.
Don’t give him what he wants, Gaige. It’s not worth getting expelled three weeks before graduation over a teacher who has a rep for being a jerk.
Gaige's fingers curl into a fist, and Mr. Bellingford's grin broadens.
“Mr. Bellingford, I don’t think you should be saying that sort of stuff, so just leave him alone,” some idiot sputters.
My eyes widen when I realize I’m the idiot who sputtered those words.
Oh my God, what did I just do? Lose my damn marbles? Is my blood sugar too low because I skipped breakfast or something? Did my mom's do-gooder drive finally wear off on me? Or did losing Brecken cause me to lose touch with reality? And the reality is I'm usually the quiet girl who sits at the back of the class with her head tucked down, trying not to be called on. That girl who would never stick up for Gaige.
Gaige hasn't always been a cocky, arrogant asshat, though, and there was a time I would have stood up for him. Back in grade school, when he was a sweet boy who used to chase girls around the playground, only to catch them and tell them they were cute. High school is when he had his downfall, where he made new, more popular friends that eventually turned into the Perfect Rebels. His little clique or whatever made sure everyone they deemed beneath them understood their place on the social status pole.
I was one of those people.
The first time they made me the target of their torment was at the beginning of sixth grade. I had worn shorts to school during a hot spring day, and Gaige and his friends hadn't liked what they saw. By lunchtime, they declared my new name was, "Willa Chicken Legs." The name spread throughout the school like a viral plague, and to this day, some people still coo at me when I walk by, despite the fact that my legs are no longer too short and thin.
But then I met Brecken and life got a bit easier. He was the nerdy, comic loving, aspiring artist who wore glasses and crazy outfits with suspenders and fedoras and dyed his hair an array of colors like neon pink and turquoise. He walked to the beat of his own punk song and didn't care about what people thought. He stuck up for those who needed sticking up for—including me—and never let the man get him down, no matter who that man was. He was my hero, and I was his sidekick who wore a lot of frayed jeans, baggy plaid shirts, t-shirts with classic band names, and who opted for knitted caps over washing my hair—still do. Who worships old school rock and 80s punk, prefers records to iPods, classic cars with a story to shiny sports cars that drew attention, who loves quirky movies, da
rk, twisted thriller novels, and anything that has to do with Alice in Wonderland. I’ll admit, I was a little weird—still am. But when Brecken and I were together, no hateful words, looks, or rude nicknames could ever break us.
At least that’s what I naively believed.
But now he’s gone, and I’m here alone to deal.
I shrink into my desk, my cheeks flooding with heat as the entire class gawks at me.
Mr. Bellingford looks at me disappointedly. “Miss Marlow, I expected more from you. But I guess you’re just like every other girl in this class. Ruining your reputation over a guy who will never amount to anything—”
The classroom door swings open, cutting him off.
Principal Everington sticks her head in. “Mr. Bellingford, can I speak to you in the hallway for a moment?”
The class makes a chorus of “oh busted,” and Mr. Bellingford shoots a dirty look at us before stepping out of the classroom.
I sink lower into my seat as half the class turns in my direction again.
Porter, one of the biggest jerks in the school and who’s always harbored some sort of vendetta toward Gaige and the other Perfect Rebels, smirks at me. “So, Gaige, I didn’t know you were dating freaks now.” He shoots Gaige a devious look. “She’s a little on the skinny side, but I guess you could do worse.”
A couple of guys cough “disgusting,” but Gaige’s adoring fans holler at Porter to shut up.
Gaige shifts uncomfortably, his gaze flicking to me. A series of emotions flash across his face—panic, guilt, fear. Then the emotions fade and his my-shit-don’t-stink smile returns to his face. “I’m not dating her. She’s just obsessed with me. But who can blame her? I’m pretty amazing.”
I grit my teeth. Okay, this is twice in less than ten minutes that I’m wishing a violent act upon someone. My mom would be so ashamed of my thoughts right now. She’s one of those people that truly believe you should be a genuinely good person even to those people who are terrible. That you should always help others. Always do what’s right. In fact, she’s committed her entire life to doing just that and spends hours feeding the homeless, donating her time to charities, and bringing home stray animals and sometimes even people. And while I love her to death, sometimes her expectations of me are too high. Like right now. Because I’m about to lose my shit.
Porter rests back in the chair with his arms tucked behind his head. “I get why you might want to keep the relationship on the low down, but now that the cat’s out of the bag, you might as well own it. Although, I’m dying to know how you kiss her. I’m guessing in the dark, with your eyes shut. Or maybe flat-chested freaks turn you on. But I thought you were more into girls like Evelyn?”
Porter’s friends cackle like hyenas.
I bite down on my tongue until I taste blood.
Gaige goes redrum red, and Porter grins lazily, as if daring Gaige to lose his temper. After already being on thin ice with Mr. Bellingford, Gaige will more than likely get his ass kicked to the curb permanently if he takes a swing at Porter. But I no longer care if he does. Let him get kicked out of school. No more good deeds for me today. Sorry Mom, but I guess I’m not the nice girl you tried to make me be.
Gaige takes a few measured breaths before plastering on a fake smile. “Come on, Porter, everyone here knows I’d never date Willa.” He grins at me. “You might really want to work on getting over this whole crush thing and find someone else to obsess about. Someone you have a chance with.”
Everyone busts up laughing, including Gaige
But for the craziest second I swear I see remorse in his eyes.
But by the time I blink, the look is gone.
“Fuck you, Gaige,” I choke out, my voice shaky. “You think you’re so special, but you’re nothing but a stupid, weak, spineless dick.”
His lips part in shock.
So do mine.
God, my mom would have a heart attack if she were here. Not just from hearing my words, but from the ugliness tainting this room.
“I think Mr. Bellingford is right. She totally wants your dick, bro,” Porter tells Gaige, fist bumping one of his friends.
Everyone laughs, including Gaige
I quickly gather my stuff and get the hell out of there before I lose control of my tears. Brecken would be so proud of me right now for not crying.
“Never let them see you cry. It’s what they want,” he used to say to me on the ugliest of days. Then he’d take my hand and tell me to keep my chin up until the ugliness faded.
But now he’s not here. And the ugliness never fades.
The tears escape as I burst into the hallway and hurry past Mr. Bellingford and the principal. He yells at me to get back to class as I sprint down the hallway for the exit. But I silently flip him the bird and haul butt out the exit doors, hating this school. Hating Mr. Bellingford. Hating Gaige. Hating my life. Hating everything and wondering if this is how Brecken felt before he decided to take his own life.
That is if he really did. Everyone sure seemed convinced that he did.
Me, I can’t help but wonder if there’s more to Brecken’s death.
A darker, more sinister reason.
Chapter 2
Gaige
There are times when I wonder how awful of a person I’ve become. Today is one of those days. It started this morning when my Aunt Louisa reminded me of how much she hated me, something she started in on again the second I got home from school.
“Can’t you do anything right?” she scolds me as she picks up my jacket off the kitchen floor. “I ask you to do one simple thing. Just pick up your clothes! It’s that simple, and you can’t even do it properly. God, Gaige, you can be so stupid.” She tosses the jacket at me. “Now take that up to your room and stay up there. I need a break.”
She always needs a break.
At almost fifty-five years old, she’s never been married, hardly has any friends, and the permanent scowl on her face makes her unapproachable. Even the neighbors are afraid of her and scramble into their homes whenever they see her coming. The funny part is, they wave at me as I pass by when I’m the one that’s the monster. They don’t know that, though.
“I never asked for this,” she starts in on her rant as I head for the stairway. “I never wanted kids. I don’t know why your mom and dad thought it was a good idea for me to be your guardian.”
They didn’t. There was just no one else, and my parents never made a will. They never thought they’d die until I was old enough to take care of myself.
My mom was never a huge fan of her sister, but she was too nice to say it aloud, even when Aunt Louisa was being a full-on bitch toward her. My mom constantly made excuses for my aunt’s crappy attitude. That she was lonely, that she had always been a little bitter, that she didn’t have a lot of friends. My mom was too good of a person. One of those genuinely decent people who tried to see the good in others. I honestly don’t know how the two of them were related. They are like classical music and heavy metal.
Then again, my mom probably wouldn't see any good in me if she knew me now. If she knew what I’d done—what I continue to do—she’d loathe me.
Aunt Louisa continues on with her I-hate-Gaige speech as I trudge up the creaking stairs to my bedroom in the attic. It doesn't look as bad as it sounds. The room offers a lot of space and privacy. And with the door closed, I can almost pretend I'm at home with my parents. That I just got home from school, and my mom will come up and ask me how my classes went, if I made any new friends, if I was nice to everyone. Then, after my dad got home from work, he'd do the same. My answers used to make them proud because I used to be a good student, who was nice to everyone and made new friends all the time. Now I'm the jerk who makes a nice girl run out of the classroom because he was pissed off at a teacher.
Deep down I knew Mr. Bellingford was just being his normal dick-ish self—he has a rep for it. I should've bitten my tongue and let shit blow over. But bringing up my parents was a low blow, even for him. And
then Porter trying to get a rise out of me and mentioning Evelyn… That slammed me back to the past, back to a time when I was too vulnerable, when I made the stupidest fuck up of my entire life and now I’m forever paying for it. But as quickly as the pain surfaced, I squashed it out, and did what I do best—being the cocky, uncaring, soulless asshole I'm known for being.
The sad part is that being a good person was branded into my mind the moment I could retain information. I should be a nicer person, considering the criticism I deal with at home. I should be a better person because I was raised better. At least the first ten years of my life. But that good, sweet guy vanished the second he lost his parents. And any nice emotions that still remain, I have to pretend don’t exist. That’s what my life is anymore and all because I made a devastating mistake that resulted in someone losing their life.
But sometimes no matter how hard I fight being that good guy I used to be, I occasionally feel the old Gaige creeping up. Like today when I'd thought about chasing Willa down after she ran out of class. But I didn't know what to say. That I'm sorry? Yeah, after embarrassing her in front of everyone when she just stuck up for me, I doubt two words would cut it.
But through my doubt, I can hear my mom’s words, haunting me.
“I’m sorry is a start,” my mom used to tell me. “But if you’re truly sorry, Gaige, your actions speak louder than words. Be nice and people will know you care.”
If only that were true.
I repeatedly toss a baseball toward the ceiling, lost in my thoughts. My mom gave good advice. I wish she were here. She may have known how to fix my life. She was a smart, wise woman. Maybe she could figure out how to erase what I did a little over three years ago.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Before I can answer, the door opens, and Aunt Louisa barges in.
Finding Wonderful (The Perfect Rebels Book 1) Page 1
