Everything you think you know is a lie.
I’m not just a reject. I’m the reject. Too smart. Too broke. Too less than perfect.
They’re not just rebels. They’re the rebels. Too dumb. Too rich. Too gosh darn perfect.
They think they have what it takes to break me. I think I’m made of a much stronger glue. In the game of high school bullying, they’ll always come out on top.
Then there’s him. The boy with the golden eyes.
But what if he’s just a part of the game?
What if death is the one who decides who wins and who loses?
And what if, death puts its weapon in my hands?
Rebel High Reject is a High School Bully Romance for readers of all ages.
Three weeks ago, when she cuffed her hand around my wrist and dragged me away into the girl’s bathroom marked the day that I knew senior year wouldn’t be a shadow of a memory- like the rest of high school. People started to know my name, I grew fonder of leaving my print in the yearbook and I no longer longed for the weekend to come. I mattered. Frances Hilltower was somebody. Frances Hilltower would be remembered.
Frances had come a long way, and for that, I commended her. Not too long ago, I was unshackling her from her mother’s chains. Now, there wasn’t an event Frances missed. She guzzled beer like she was born with a bottle in her mouth. Replace that bottle with a cock and she was bound to be the life of the party.
Two friends, Frances and Jemma are close, bound at the hip almost. One is from an abusive and controlling household, the other is a beautiful and malicious social butterfly who can’t wait to see what joy her new “pet” friend can bring her. Jemma is a “mean girl”, manipulative and slightly sociopathic and it makes me wonder why Frances would still associate with her after all the nasty things she’d pull.
The worst one was being present during one of the most intimate and vulnerable moments in a young woman’s life – the loss of her virginity. On the upside, Frances “did it” with the boy of her fantasies, Axel, and he was very gentle. On the downside, Jemma was there watching and thinking how she could exploit this moment for maximum damage.
Some birthday present it turned out to be. Somehow, a part of me managed to feel guilty, like I’d ruined something special. However, the only thing that was really ruined was me. I didn’t feel older or sexier or more mature. Sex was supposed to do that- transform you into a woman. Now, however, I felt less womanly and more like a child; a child who couldn’t keep her tear ducts under control.
Thankfully her new beau has more sense than the bitchy girlfriend:
“If today had happened with your boyfriend, you wouldn’t feel the way you do now. You’d be excited. Happy. Emotional, yes. This might have started with Jemma, but it doesn’t have to end with her. She doesn’t have to be the one to write our story.” He paused. Took my hand in his. “Fall in love with me, Frances.”
So what starts off kinda good tapers off and it starts getting dragged down with drudgery. The villains are really villanous, the good guys are really good. There’s a lemony twinge in the writing which makes me think of those highschool fanfiction days where everything was soured by the appearance of an unexpected guest and the world was definitely against one or more people in the story. Why can’t this girl get a break?
I skipped chapters 30-60 as it was more or less the same thing but in a different format. Towards the end, the most unbelievable thing happens: the narcissist says they are sorry. I mean, never, ever, in real life, would such a person show remorse or understanding. It’s a part of empathy and narcissists do not know what empathy is or how to feel any type of emotion other than rage and envy.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s not about what you see. None of that matters. I’m just sorry. A horrible person. A horrible person who’s just sorry and happy,’ she sobbed some more, this time using the back of her hand to smear away a few droplets. ‘I’m happy that you’re okay,” she tilted her head to Axel. “And Frances… I just…”
“You did this Jemma. You’re the one who put us in this horrible situation. Admit that. Admit that you did this to us. To me and Axel. Admit it.”
“Axel,” she called out, “can I ask you something.”
I stopped. Frances stopped but didn’t turn around.
“Yes,” I nodded.
“Do you think anyone will ever love me like that? The way you love Frances?”
“Be a great mom,” Frances said, her body back still turned to us. “Do that for me. For Axel. Be a great mom and you’ll never have to worry about love because your child will never forget to love you.”
“I’ll never forget to love you,” came a voice from behind us- the same voice that had told us Jemma wasn’t there.