Free siobhan vivian - not that kind of girl by Siobhan Vivian

Principal Hurley waved his hands, dispersing the Rosstitutes. Principal Hurley was the oldest faculty member of Ross Academy. A bald man, stern and broad like an army officer, he wore a three-piece suit every single day. And he sounded more annoyed than I've ever heard him. Ms. Bee walked over. "Are those girls causing more trouble?" "I prayed that Martha and I wouldn't have daughters for this very reason." Principal Hurley sighed. Ms. Bee looked up at the sky. "Well, if you care for my opinion, I think the ones who just wore the shirts should get a week of detention. But the ringleader, Spencer, I think we need to make an example of her." "Three-day suspension?" Ms. Bee nodded. Whoa. Suspension. The anger I felt toward Spencer turned to pity. She wasn't a bad girl, just...misguided. A black mark like this on her permanent record might ruin her chance of getting into a decent college. All because she'd done something so incredibly stupid. And for what? To impress Connor? Principal Hurley nodded back. "I'll call them all into my office first thing Monday morning. I'd like you there, since this was partly a student council event." "Yes. Of course." I took off toward the fence, but Autumn was gone. I hoped she'd gone to get me a bottle of water or something. But I didn't want to stand there waiting by myself and risk getting accosted again. The only safe place was near the football team's bench. As I shuffled over, a roar erupted from the home bleachers. Mike Domski had dropped another one of Connor's passes on third down. Our offense headed to the bench and defense took the field. Some of the lesser players tossed around plastic bottles and towels to the guys who had returned. Bobby Doyle took off his helmet and stretched his arms over his head. "I'm ready for this game to be over." I've never seen someone stretch as often as Bobby Doyle. He wants to give people a peek at the Chinese characters snaking across his pelvis. He was so proud that he could get a tattoo without being eighteen, using his older brother's ID. I thought it looked corny, and I've heard most of those Chinese letterforms don't even mean what the tattoo places say they do. I wished I had a photographic memory. Then I could have researched them and told Bobby that his tattoos didn't mean Strength and Courage, but rather something ridiculous, like Shiny Fat Rabbit. Mike Domski fake punched Bobby. "You wouldn't be so tired if you weren't such a tub of lard. You're only allowed to drink light beer tonight." Bobby laughed. "Dude. Need I remind you that the party's at my house? And that the beer you're referring to, which is currently chilling on ice, is mine? And the hot tub, that I turned on at lunch to be nice and toasty, is also mine?" Bobby Doyle's family was really rich, and had a separate guesthouse just for him. It was basically party central for our school, and it wasn't even nice, because he lived like a pig, with empty beer cans strewn all over the place and holes punched into the walls. Or at least that's what I'd heard. "I just hope this stupid bonfire thing is over quick," Mike said. "Hey, Connor--please tell us you soaked those logs in kerosene." Connor shook his head. "Fine. I guess it's up to me to save us." And then Mike started to hop up and down. He slapped his hand over his open mouth. A rain dance. I clenched my fists. If the football team left early from the bonfire, I swore I'd make a huge scene. I'd throw Ross the Eagle's head right onto the fire. Connor grabbed a protein bar from inside his duffel bag. "Come on, guys. The game isn't over. Can we please concentrate on the business at hand?" "Tell you what. I'd like to make that Spencer girl's titties my business," Mike said with a laugh. My mouth dropped open. Oh. My. God. James Rocker squirted some water in his mouth, swished it around, and spat it back out. "She's not that hot." Mike sighed. "Dude, it doesn't even matter, because she's eager. Did you see her dancing? I mean, she's