Better Than Revenge (Sweet Secrets #1) Read online

  Better Than Revenge

  By Taylor Henderson

  Better Than Revenge

  Copyright © 2015 by Taylor Henderson.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: June 2015

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-161-4

  ISBN-10: 1-68058-161-9

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  “The mediocre teacher tells. The good teacher explains. The superior teacher demonstrates. The great teacher inspires.” ~ William A. Ward

  Sidney Brown

  Juliet Amann

  Ryan Nelson

  Benjamin Eckman

  Kate McEnerney

  Virginia Morton

  Thank you all for inspiring me.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Prologue

  The hot summer sun was beating down on us as we sat together on the side of the pool. Leaning forward, I dipped one foot into the water and made small circles, causing the clear water to ripple and shine in the bright sunlight. I could feel the heat radiating off of his body as he snaked his arm around my waist. Despite the heat I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder as I breathed in his scent. The strong smell of his aftershave mixed with citrus from his shampoo enveloped me, fogging my thoughts.

  “Want to take a swim?” Blake looked at me with a small smirk on his sun-tanned face that made my heart melt.

  I couldn't help but notice the way his blue eyes twinkled every time he looked at me. A small breeze blew a few strands of his black hair into his eyes as I cupped his cheek with my hand.

  “I dare you,” I whispered as I leaned in closer to him, pressing my lips gently to his.

  He kissed me back softly, allowing his lips to mold and move in sync with mine, before pulling back and smirking at me. “I never turn down a good dare!” he exclaimed with a laugh as he shoved me into the pool.

  The cold water slapped against my body, folding in around me on all sides until I was completely submerged. I had just barely managed to take in a breath before I had been so rudely shoved into the pool, and I was thankful that I had. When my toes touched the bottom of the deep end I kicked off of the concrete, propelling myself back upward. Once my head broke the surface I rubbed the chlorinated water from my eyes and squinted up at where Blake had been sitting moments ago.

  A chorus of giggles erupted from the opposite direction and I turned my head to see Blake walking toward the fence that separated my yard from my neighbor’s, laughing at something that Brianna, the stuck up princess who lived next door, had said. She giggled, tossing her hair lightly as she spoke again, leaning her body against the wooden fence. As Blake drew near her, she leaned her body forward and pulled him into a tight hug, pressing her chest to his body while rolling her eyes at me, and smirking. I responded with a glare that only deepened when she mouthed the word, “Mine,” before she pulled away. The only word she has known ever since we were little.

  Since I was younger, and even now, Brianna has been associated with some of my worst memories. As I watched her talk to my boyfriend while tossing me sly glares, I remembered seventh grade when Brianna had done everything in her power to make my life miserable. Not even a month into the school year she had found a way to turn all of my friends against me. She dug a hole into my friend group, put herself in, and took me out. She had a leader quality in her that was for sure. All of my friends followed her in spreading rumors about me, and isolating me from the main group.

  I had learned at a young age how to entertain myself, and I had even gotten use to being alone. Her actions, and the actions of my so-called friends had shown me that trust shouldn’t be doled out easily. Trust is something to be given to those who deserve it. That was something that had stuck with me, and was probably the reason I had so few friends to this very day.

  Logically, I knew that I was able to change that, but my trust issues ran deep, and I blamed Brianna. Even at a young age she had been conniving and evil. Nothing about her personality has really changed. She’s still conniving and evil—just more so.

  That was just one of the many times that the stuck up bitch, formally known as Brianna Richardson, had taken something that was mine and made it hers, and I was tired of it. Brianna was the type of girl who had been spoiled and put on a pedestal her whole life, and I hated people like that. I wanted to rip the silver spoon from her smirking mouth and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. It was about time that she learned other people have feelings too, and I was just the person to teach her that.

  Chapter 1

  “Violet?” There was tapping on my bedroom door, then the sound of the door knob turning. Suddenly light flooded my bedroom, as my mom entered. “Wake up, sweetheart. You don't want to miss the bus.”

  Groaning, I rolled onto my stomach, pressing my face into my fluffy, hypoallergenic pillow in an attempt to block the light from my eyes. I tried to ignore the irritating sound of her heels clicking on my bedroom's hardwood floors as she approached me.

  “Violet, I am not putting up with this behavior anymore. You’re old enough to wake up on a schedule and get to school on time. You need to start taking your education more seriously.” She then shook my shoulder in another futile attempt to get a response out of me. All I did was shrug her hand off.

  “Violet Elizabeth Forrester I am not going to say it again.” She put extra emphasis on the word ‘not’. “Wake up now or I'll have to go and get the bucket.”

  I ignored her threat and pulled the comforter up higher over my head. Her threats never fazed me. She was bluffing and she knew it. I heard her tsking to herself as she turned and walked out of my room.

  This is how our morning routine has gone since my first day of seventh grade five years ago. Mom would walk into my room and flick my lights on whilst asking me politely to wake up. It was normal for me to ignore her requests. I took them as suggestions instead which only made her angrier. After her first failed attempt at getting me up, she would call out my full name or threaten me. I guess today was my lucky day because she had decided to do both.

  Sighing happily I snuggled into the warmth of my bed and clutched Mr. Bear tighter to my chest as I dozed off.
Yes, I named him Mr. Bear. I know it’s not the most creative name but I was only three when I came up with it so give me a break. I yawned deeply, on the verge of falling back to sleep. I had almost drifted off when I heard the sound of my mom’s determined and annoying footsteps returning to my room.

  “Violet, I am giving you one more chance to get out of that bed before I dump the bucket!” Her voice wavered as if she was unsure of whether she was really going to do it or not. My mom is a clean freak and I am sure that she is highly aware of the fact that if she does indeed decide to dump the bucket she is the one who will be cleaning it up.

  “Whatever,” I mumbled as I pulled the cover tighter around my thin body.

  “Violet please don’t make me do this!” I almost laughed at how high-pitched her voice was. It was as if she was begging me to get up just so that she didn’t have to follow through with her threat.

  “No one is forcing you to do anything mom. Now please be quiet, or get out!” I knew I shouldn’t be talking to my mother like this, but she was really getting on my nerves. I could have slept for another ten minutes if she hadn’t come in to wake me up. It’s not like this “new” school is really all that important anyway. Ever since my old school was remodeled over the summer, she has been going crazy trying to prepare me for it. She was honestly the only person I knew who was excited over the fact that our school was now higher security, and every student was required to wear a uniform.

  “Violet! You know that I do not allow back talk in this house.” I peeked out from under the covers to see my shocked mother holding a silver bucket into the air. She looked taken aback for a second before, to my surprise, she tilted the bucket over my bed.

  I closed my eyes tight in anticipation of the cold water that I knew was soon to come. It hit me like a tidal wave, drenching my body from head to toe. I screamed as the water penetrated my covers, and clenched my fists so tight that my fingernails were cutting into the flesh of my palm.

  Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I hopped up quickly and glared at my mother lividly. “Why did you do that!?” I shouted loudly, pulling at my wet pajama shirt that was clinging to my stomach.

  “I gave you fair warning.” Her brown eyes pierced into mine as if she was waiting for me to say more.

  “You know, when you dump a bucket of water over someone in an attempt to wake them up, the water is not supposed to be burning hot!” I yelled, clenching my fists tighter as I spoke.

  “I would never dump ice water on you,” she replied as a look of horror crossed her face, like that was the worst thing a person could do to their child. “You could get pneumonia. What kind of mother do you think I am?” she asked, placing her hand to her chest in astonishment. Without even giving me time to respond to her question she turned on her heel and walked from my room. “Hurry up, you don’t want to miss your bus.”

  I stared at the retreating back of the crazy woman who I referred to as my mother. Sighing, I walked over to the mirror that hung from my wall over my desk. My light brown hair that was usually wavy and hung a few inches below my shoulders was now plastered to the side of my face in some areas while it was dry and frizzy in others. My hazel eyes were rimmed in red and underneath each were dark circles from my lack of sleep. I had been up late for the past few nights, trying to milk the little time I had left of freedom before school began.

  Frowning at my appearance I used the back of my hand to rub at the small white circle of slobber that was crusted onto my cheek. Bending down, I reached my hand under my desk and pulled my flat iron out from my hair bin before placing it down on my desktop.

  Glancing at the neatly ironed uniform that mother dearest had laid out on the back of my desk chair caused a small scowl to creep onto my face. The uniform was absolutely hideous. Not only was it black and blue―making me look like one giant bruise―the pants that I had ordered were slightly too short for my legs, causing them to ride up like high waters. The shirt was tight and showed way too much cleavage for my liking and was better fit for a prostitute than it was for me. My mother, being the neat-freak-health-nut-overprotective-woman that she is, had refused to let me order one of the uniform skirts. She had mentioned something about them being “too short for her liking” when in actuality they came down to the knees.

  I rolled my eyes and grabbed the uniform as I shuffled into the bathroom. Stripping out of my pajamas I tossed them into the dirty clothes hamper and climbed into the shower. Turning the faucet on, I sighed in pleasure as the hot water pounded against my skin rhythmically. Not having enough time to wash my hair, I rinsed it and let it hang in curls around my heart shaped face.

  “Hurry up, Violet!” My mom called, pounding on the bathroom door as she spoke. Goodness does this woman ever give up? I knew that I didn’t have the best track record for catching the bus, but that didn’t mean that she had to bully me. I sighed and reluctantly cut the shower off and wrapped up in my towel. After I dried off, I got dressed quickly, frowning in disgust as my pants rose up to my ankles.

  I ran into my room and looked at the alarm clock on my bedside table causing my heart to drop into my stomach when I saw the time. I had five minutes until the bus came and I hadn’t even eaten breakfast yet. With a frustrated groan, I stuffed a few extra items into my backpack and yanked a comb through my wet hair a few times. After I was mildly presentable, I left my room and speed-walked down the hallway until I got to the stairs where I ran down them two steps at a time.

  “Do not run down the stairs, Violet! It’s dangerous! Do you know how many children fall down the stairs each day?” Mom stood at the bottom of the staircase with both hands on her hips as she tapped one foot impatiently.

  “Would you rather me take my time and miss the bus like you specifically told me not to?”

  She rolled her brown eyes in response and handed me a brown bag filled with one of her healthy homemade lunches.

  I took it unwillingly and stuffed it into my backpack. If it was my choice I would eat school lunch each day, but having a mother like Rose Forrester is tricky. She doesn’t like when her children eat processed, overly sugared foods that are high in inorganic phosphates and cholesterol. In short, this means that I’m not allowed to eat school lunch and instead I am forced to bring a bagged lunch with me to school every day. Yes, I know. My mom is indeed a basket case.

  I gave her a quick peck on the cheek and was about to walk out of the front door when I was gripped on my wrist and pulled back. “Hold on one second,” my mom said, hurrying into the kitchen. When she returned, she came up to me and placed a small hand towel on top of my head. It began to move in quick circles around over my hair before it was yanked away, leaving me with a glare on my face, and a smile on hers.

  “There you go. Now you can have a great day without having to worry about catching a cold.” I stared angrily at my mom’s triumphant face before walking out of the house and slamming the door shut behind me.

  Thanks to her my hair was going to look like a dry tumble weed glued to the top of my head by the end of the day. I made it to the bus stop just as the doors had slammed shut and it was about to pull off. My bus driver gave me a sour look but still opened the doors so that I could get onto the bus.

  “You’re lucky it’s the first day,” she muttered as I climbed on. “Take your seat. You have already held us up long enough.”

  I rolled my eyes at her snarky words. This day was already not going well. Sitting down at the nearest empty seat I began to unzip my backpack as the bus took off down the road. Pulling out a small pocket mirror and a comb, I began to make myself presentable before we stopped at Blake’s bus stop. By the time we had gotten to his stop, I had worked my hair into controllable waves and had applied a thin layer of my favorite clear lip gloss.

  I shoved the few items back into my bag and looked up just in time to see the bus pull to a stop. I watched as a few students boarded the bus, waiting until Blake got on. When I saw him, a smile tugged my lips upwards. His black hair was w
indblown and had small droplets of water dripping from it as he sauntered toward me. Obviously his mother didn’t care about whether he caught a cold or not.

  I couldn’t help but stare at his crisp blue uniform shirt and professional looking black khakis. He always looked adorable dressed up, and I couldn't help it; I had a thing for men in uniforms. Unlike mine, his pants fit him perfectly, and his outfit didn't make him look like he had discolored skin despite its blue and black material. When he caught my eye, he smirked at me and winked knowingly as if he had noticed that I was checking him out. I felt the familiar warmth of a blush creeping over my high cheekbones as I stared into his blue eyes.

  Blake sat into the empty space next to me and gave me a light peck on the cheek. “Hey Vi, how was your morning?”

  I sighed. “Don’t even get me started,” I warned while shaking my head slowly.

  He smiled and put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. I snuggled into his side and rested my eyes for the rest of the way to school. It felt so natural to be cuddled up with Blake. We didn’t need to fill every silence with meaningless conversation. We were perfectly content with just enjoying each other’s presence. When his eyes pierced into mine it felt as if he was looking into my soul. It sounds cheesy but there is no other way to explain it.

  I wish that I could say that Blake and I were always the best of friends and that it was love at first sight, but if I said that I would be telling you complete bull shit. In all honesty when Blake and I first met in seventh grade I had found him to be quite annoying. Blake had been tall and gangly with big blue eyes that were always hidden behind a pair of thick rimmed glasses and a shaggy hair cut. His family had just moved here from a small island in the Caribbean and although he had just arrived at my school in the middle of the year, it seemed as if he was stalking me everywhere I went. Not only had he had almost every class with me, but he even had the locker next to mine. Really, what did you expect me to think? After all, I do get half of my genes from my mother and she can be very paranoid.