Satan's Revenge by Celia Loren Read Free Book Online Page B

down next to me to munch on their treats, and I curl up next to them.
    The first distant peal of thunder sounds and Scout whimpers. I wrap an arm around him as I wonder how Drifter is doing. I find his relationship with Marcus confusing, and I just want to know what happened between them. I lean my head down onto Kalb’s ribcage. He picks his head up to look at me, then lays it back down.
    I stare up at the roof, listening to the hypnotic sound of the rain and hoping that Drifter will be home soon.
     

Chapter Six

    Drifter
    15 years ago
     
     
    I perch on the small stool behind the counter. This Shell station was the only place where I could find a job. Even with the protein powder that Flint got me, I haven’t been able to add more than a couple pounds, and I think it’s because I don’t get enough to eat. I know I can’t count on the Ralstons to feed me any more, so I got this job working behind the counter at the gas station.
    I flip through the Algebra II book in front of me and sigh. Math has been the hardest subject to keep up as I’ve switched schools, because it all builds on what came before. In English, if I haven’t read all the same books, it’s OK, I can just pick up with the next one. Or even science, if I come halfway through Chemistry, well at least next year I can start new with Physics. But with Math, it seems like I keep needing the same skills. Ones I don’t have.
    When I transferred to this school in the middle of last year, my teacher for Algebra I really tried to help me. I was doing OK by the end of the year, but this year my teacher, Mrs. Veerland, won’t stop to explain anything and just plows right ahead.
    A flash of white catches my eye and I glance outside to the pump, where a white Toyota is pulling up. I stand and walk to the door and groan. Shit. It’s Derek and a bunch of his friends. Fucking Oregon. If only I could just stay in here while he pumps his own gas. But no, in Oregon and New Jersey it’s illegal to pump your own gas, which means right now I have to go out and pump fucking Derek’s gas.
    There’s always one guy in a new school, and at this one it’s Derek. I walk outside, and as I reach the pump, I glance inside the driver’s window questioningly, keeping my expression professional.
    “Fill it up,” Derek says, not even looking at me. I don’t think he’s recognized me yet, that’s just how he would treat anyone he views as working for him. His parents are rich, and I bet he’s never even had a summer job.
    I walk to the back of his car, unscrew the gas cap and place the nozzle inside. Derek’s around 5’10”, but when I transferred here last year, he was taller than me. Now I’m almost 6’1”, but he’s the captain of the wrestling team and has the nonexistent neck to prove it.
    I hear a burst of laughter from the car and know without looking that Derek and his friends have recognized me. I hear my new nickname, “Skeletor,” being tossed around. Derek coined it when we came back to school in the fall and I was so tall and thin. I grit my teeth and stare at the numbers on the pump as they flip over.
    The nozzle clicks, the tank is full. I pull it out and screw the gas cap back on, pushing the cover closed. Derek turns on the car and the radio blasts a Green Day song. I replace the nozzle on the pump and walk back to the driver’s window.
    “That’ll be…” I begin.
    The rest of my sentence is drowned out by the sound of screeching tires as Derek peels out of the gas station without paying, the sound of he and his friends’ cackling laughter rising above the radio.
    “Motherfucker,” I swear, balling my fists in anger. I glance at the price on the pump. With that coming out of my paycheck, and making minimum wage, I’ll barely take home five dollars today. Rage fills me. I know there’s no point in calling the cops. If I did, Derek would just make it a point to make my life at school a living hell. What a piece of shit.
    The rest of the day