Better Than Revenge (Sweet Secrets #1) Read Online Free Page A

wickedly as she walked over to her. Stopping directly in front of Brianna, she gripped the front of her gym shirt into a tight fist causing Brianna’s eyes to widen in fear. Ms. Botch then positioned her body so that she was talking to the whole class while still holding onto the front of Brianna’s shirt.
    “This young lady took the liberty of showing you what not to wear to my class! Your shorts should not be rolled up to the top of your thighs and by no means should your shirt be held back by a hair tie!” She reached behind Brianna’s back and pulled the hair tie from her shirt, letting it fall loose, before she continued her rant.
    “Your hair should be tied into a neat bun or ponytail, and jewelry of any kind is not allowed! I will confiscate it without hesitation!” Ms. Botch let go of Brianna’s shirt and handed her the hair tie that she had taken off of her shirt. Afterwards, she motioned for Brianna to take off her earrings and bracelets, which Brianna handed over reluctantly, but only after she had narrowed her blue eyes, and a heavy scowl had slipped onto her face.
    Smiling, as if making an example out of her student had brought some light to her day, Ms. Botch turned away before she began speaking again. “This is not a modeling shoot, this is my gym class. Now give me five laps around the track! I want to see the sweat pouring from your adolescent bodies. That’s the real proof that you’re getting a good workout!” After she had finished talking she brought the whistle that was dangling around her chubby neck up to her mouth and blew into it until everyone in the class had started their laps.
    As I took off, I heard Brianna mumble, “How is she even a gym teacher?” At her statement, my eyes flickered to Ms. Botch's rotund gut protruding a few inches away from her body. I had to admit, I was wondering the same thing.
     
    ***
     
    My stomach clenched again causing my body to jerk forward as I hurled into the trash can, gripping the edges of the can for support. I was never that strong a runner and after completing just two laps I started complaining about stomach aches. Ms. Botch told me to suck it up and stop complaining a few times before finally allowing me to stand off to the side while everyone else continued running their laps.
    Now she occasionally threw me sideways glances from where she stood on the track. I wasn't that focused on the faces she was giving me because at the moment the salty taste in my mouth was more important. My tongue was sweating, and the aching pain in my stomach helped to reduce the pain of my headache as I threw up into the metal waste bin.
    I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder and I turned my head so that I could see the freshly manicured fingers that lie there. My eyes took in the perfectly sculpted nails and trailed up the muscular yet feminine arm until they landed on the face of a smiling redhead.
    “Can I help you?” I questioned a little more rudely than I had intended.
    “It looks to me like you need more help than I do,” she replied as she pulled her hand off of my shoulder and handed me a small stack of napkins with the other.
    “I can take care of myself. I'm just not a huge fan of running.” Or any other physical activities for that matter.
    “Whatever. Botch sent me over here to check on you, but since you can obviously take care of yourself, I can just go back to watching the boy’s gym class.” She shrugged her shoulders and was about to turn to leave before I spoke again.
    “Wait. How come you aren't on the track running with everyone else?”
    A smirk played on her lips as she began, saying, “I can’t run today,” she rubbed her stomach with her hands and feigned a pained face, “I’m having killer cramps.”
    I squinted my eyes at her, but still nodded and held my hand out toward her, “Lucky you. I’m Violet Forrester.”
    She glanced down at my hand for a moment before placing the napkins in it and speaking, “I’m Lena, and I