The Divide (The Divide Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

He didn’t even stop to see if I was okay. He just kept walking.
    “Jackass,” I yelled after him. He lifted his hand and flipped me off. The nerve of this guy.
    Standing back up, I tried to dust the dirt off the front of my dress as best as I could before I carefully made my way back over to my house, making sure I didn’t slip on anything else. As I opened up the gate, I took my time walking up the patio stairs and peeked through the small window of the back door. After determining it was all clear, I quietly let myself back into the house and slipped through the back staircase and up into my room. Locking the door behind me, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding in. I turned on my bedroom light and walked over to my full-length mirror. A frown formed on my lips as I assessed the damage. My dress was ruined. There was a small hole in one of the knees and scratches in the other. It would be impossible to fix because of the silky material.
    I grabbed my pajamas and headed into the bathroom and changed quickly. I stuffed my dress all the way at the back of my closet, hoping no one would ever find it. Shutting off my bedroom light, I curled into my bed and I could hear the music and voices of the party downstairs float into my room; I hoped my parents weren’t looking for me. As I lay my head down on my soft pillow, my mind rushed to the man with the green eyes. He was such a jerk. Or more like an ass. I knew individuals like him despised us but come on. I hadn’t done anything. And it wasn’t fair that I actually felt something stirring in my stomach when his eyes raked over me. And then he opened his mouth. His stupid, stupid mouth. His yummy-looking mouth. I groaned. Couldn’t my hatred of him douse my lust? Was it lust, though? Could seventeen-year-olds lust? I glared into the darkness of my room. After school tomorrow, I would see him, and when I saw him, I would lay it all out straight, that he couldn’t be rude to me. Or anyone. I smiled. Yes, I would tell him how it was, and he would listen. How could he not listen? I’m delusional, I thought. 
    I closed my eyes, my chest feeling a little lighter. Tomorrow was going to be a good day. Maybe I could get us some hot chocolate while I talked to him, show him I was generous. Maybe some cookies too. My smile grew more as I pictured how tomorrow would go.

“Stupid locker,” I muttered under my breath as I tried to pry it open. I should just give up and beg to get a new one, but I wouldn’t lose to a nonresponsive object. Looking around quickly, I made sure no one in the crowded hallway was looking in my direction before I turned back and glared at the pain-in-the-ass obstacle, fisted my hand, and slammed it into the metal contraption. I ignored the sharp pain in my hand as the door popped open. Finally! Smiling, I looked around; only a few people had turned in my direction at the noise, but they went back to whatever they were doing. I shoved my backpack onto the top shelf and reached forward on the very bottom shelf, sliding my hand until it hit a small wooden box. I slid the rough box out and opened it. Inside, in a tight ball, was a roll of money. 
    When I was thirteen, my father had started giving me money at the beginning of each week. Unless I was being scolded or punished, my father never talked to me, so it had been strange when he’d summoned me to his study on my thirteenth birthday. He’d sat me down and told me that he would be giving me money each week, and that I could do whatever I wanted with it. My eyes had grown to saucers as he continued talking about this new deal between us. He’d never just sat me down to talk normally, let alone be nice to me. He’d told me I’d get the money only if I followed two rules: I was to never tell anyone about this arrangement and I was to keep out of the way and stay out of trouble. I didn’t remember what else he’d droned on about because I’d been too shocked he was actually