by Amanda Abram
THE
IMPORTANCE
OF GETTING
REVENGE
BY AMANDA ABRAM
THE IMPORTANCE OF GETTING REVENGE
COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Amanda Abram
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission from the author at [email protected]
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or otherwise are entirely coincidental.
1st Edition Electronic book published 2017 by Amanda Abram
Author’s Note
Fun Fact: the book you are about to read is nearly ten years old. No joke. It took me only a few short months to finish writing it back in 2007, but then it took me another nine years to edit it to the point where I felt comfortable enough to self-publish it. That’s right, this is a self-published novel, that has never been looked at by an editor or a beta reader, so please bear with me. Please overlook any possible spelling or grammatical errors with a polite smile and the thought of, “Well, she did her best”. I’ve gone over this book with a fine-toothed comb probably hundreds of times by now, but let’s face it—things are bound to still make it through the cracks here and there.
During the last ten years, this book has appeared on multiple sites, sometimes in full, other times as just a teaser. Sometimes it was quite popular. Other times, it got lost in the fray. But every time I put it up somewhere new, there was always somebody reading it and commenting on it, giving me the ambition to continue. Let me tell you, I needed it. It’s been a real struggle for me. The last ten years have been plagued with crippling writer’s block, to the point where I’d pretty much just given up. Even though it has been my dream literally my whole life to be a published author, I thought it was just too hard and that I couldn’t do it.
But over the years, I kept plugging away at it. I was unhappy with some of it, so over time, I changed it. This version is not the original version. Some characters and scenes got eliminated entirely, taking with them about 20,000 words. But I’m a lot happier with what I’ve ended up with, and I hope my readers are too.
I wish I could list the names of every person who has ever given me valuable feedback, or even just simple encouragement, but if you are one of those people, you know who you are and I thank you.
However, there are a couple of readers I do know by name and I would like to thank them personally.
First, I would like to thank Ithilrin, aka Diana M., of Wattpad, who took the time to translate my entire novel (which at the time was nearly 130,000 words) into German, introducing it to a whole new audience, and even earning it an award it would not have won without her. She has translated other novels, so if you ever get the chance, go check her out on Wattpad. She really does amazing work.
Next, I would like to thank Talia Cakir, a reader who one day, out of the blue, sent me an email inquiring about my book, wondering when it was going to be available for purchase. Even though she had already read Ithilrin’s German translation, she wanted to read it in English as well. Her email came to me at a time when I’d all but given up on this whole publishing thing. I had only one chapter left to work on, but I just couldn’t get it right. I hated every new version I wrote, getting more and more frustrated with each and every attempt. But on the day I got Talia’s email, I felt so inspired, I opened up my dust-covered laptop, and I sat down and started typing. And for the next month and a half, that’s all I did. My life became eat, sleep, work, write, lather, rinse, repeat every day, up until this day–the day I’m writing this Author’s Note as the last thing I have to do before publishing my first book.
So here it is. You hold in your hands the product of somebody’s lifelong dream. And I guess for that, my last show of gratitude goes out to you.
Thank you.
Chapter One
I was pretty sure my ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend was a life-force-sucking demon. Don’t believe me? Let’s look at the facts.
As soon as he began dating her, he became a shell of the guy he used to be. Once upon a time he was charming, funny, goofy, sweet and personable. That was when he was dating me. When he got with the demon girl, he became quiet, reserved, grumpy and arrogant. Jeffrey Weston, who used to be the most lovable guy in the world, had become a narcissist. And I could personally vouch for him. He was fine until she came along. Until she stole my near-perfect boyfriend out from under my nose.
“Lexi,” he'd said to me that fateful day, the day of our relationship's demise, “we need to break up.”
I hadn't seen it coming. I thought we were fine. I thought we were happy. Jeffrey, however, had a different opinion.
That different opinion apparently came to him in the form of Jefferson Elliot High's newest tartlet, Amber-Lynne Rose Spencer. She enrolled at our school the very same day I planned on giving my virginity to Jeffrey. The very same day he dumped me. At the time he broke my heart into a million different pieces, however, he never mentioned anything about her. Perhaps he thought it would be tacky.
So when he dropped the bomb on me out of the blue with no real explanation, all I could do was sit and stare at him cross-eyed. We had been together for nearly three years, which was almost like ten in teen years. We never fought and as far as I knew, neither one of us had ever had a wandering eye. I guess I was wrong.
“Huh?” was my initial verbal response.
“It's just not working out between us anymore,” was his rebuttal.
“But—” was my attempt at refuting his statement.
“It's not you, it's me,” was his clichéd interjection.
“What?” was my only question.
“I'm breaking up with you,” was his final answer.
Of course, I knew that. Despite it being the first time I'd ever been dumped, I wasn't stupid. I just didn't understand why it was happening.
Jeffrey, being a 17-year-old male with better things to do with his time, had no intention of delving deep into any sort of explanation, so I never got one. After he finished getting the words out, he stared at me for one brief, awkward moment, and then got up and left. Left the kitchen. Left my house. Left my life.
But he hadn't left our school, which was why only a week and a half after our breakup, I was being subjected to watching him and Amber-Lynne Rose make out just a few lockers down from mine.
“Eww,” came a voice from behind me. “This is even more disgusting than that Discovery Channel special I watched the other night on the mating rituals of dung beetles.”
I couldn’t help but let out a huge sigh of relief. I recognized the voice right away as belonging to my best friend, Trish Holloway. Trish was my savior. When Jeffrey dumped me, she took up semi-permanent residence in my bedroom in an attempt to comfort me. She’d brought over an economy-sized box of tissues and six pints of cookie dough ice cream, which we both finished off in record time. She endured my bitching and moaning with admirable patience and literally provided me with a shoulder to cry on. And now, like a true devoted friend, she was rather loudly ridiculing the public display of gag-inducing affection between Jeffrey and his harlot.
At hearing Trish’s comment, they pulled apart just enough to allow dust particles to pass between them. But while Amber-Lynne Rose glared over at us, Jeffrey made sure to avert his gaze elsewhere. With a huff, Amber-Lynne Rose took Jeffrey's arm and proceeded to lead him down the hallway. He obediently followed her like a lemming following the herd off a cli
ff.
I smiled when I thought of them both falling off a cliff.
“Thanks, Trish,” I said, slamming my locker shut.
She leaned up against the locker next to mine and studied her nails. “No prob. I can’t believe how insensitive he’s being. And to think, I spent the last few years thinking Jase was insane for hating his guts.”
Jase was Trish’s older brother, a senior who was only about a year older than both Trish and myself. Jase and Jeffrey used to be pretty good friends. In fact, the two of them used to hang out with me and Trish all the time. But ever since he'd entered high school, Jase hadn’t had much to do with any of us. One day, he just started hating Jeffrey for some reason that was still unknown to pretty much everyone. As for me, he just hadn’t made it much of a habit to speak to me.
I shrugged, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. I wanted to change the subject, because I had already wasted too much time and energy thinking about Jeffrey, but Trish was too quick to continue.
“So I’ve been thinking about something,” she said, dragging out the sentence. She was hesitating, as if trying to decide whether or not she should continue speaking. I knew this meant that whatever she had to say, I probably wasn’t going to like it.
“Yeah…and?” I coaxed her.
“And I came to the conclusion that it kills me to see you like this.”
I glanced down at myself. “Like what?”
“Constantly on the edge of an emotional breakdown!” She pointed at my face. “Your eyes are puffy from crying yourself to sleep every night, and you’ve become careless in your fashion choices. I mean, come on, a flannel shirt? Hello! The early nineties happened, like, two decades ago. Get with the times.”
I made a face as I tugged protectively at my plaid print button up shirt. It wasn't flannel, it was a poly-cotton blend. My younger brother, Aaron, had outgrown the shirt during his prepubescent growth spurt last year and he gave it to me as a Christmas present because he was too cheap to buy me anything. So what if I was wearing a hand-me-up from my fourteen-year-old brother? It was comfortable. And it wasn’t like I had dressed like a runway model before the breakup with Jeffrey.
“Trish, you’re supposed to be my supportive best friend.”
“That’s exactly what I am! Which is why, instead of doing my homework last night, I devised a plan.”
I groaned. Trish's plans were terrible and almost never ended well.
“I’m not interested.” As we began to walk down the hallway, I couldn’t help but notice a few boys ogling her as we walked by. Trish was gorgeous. She was tall, thin and curvy, with long, wavy red hair and big, bright green doe eyes. She towered over me like a giant. Whereas she was nearly five-foot-ten, I was a measly five-foot-four. Just one of the many reasons why I'd always felt somewhat self-conscious around her. I mean, I wasn't hideous or anything. If I was, Jeffrey would have never dated me for three years. But still, in comparison to girls like Trish and Amber-Lynne Rose, I was somewhat unremarkable.
The only thing that kept me from hating Trish with every fiber of my being was the simple fact she didn't act like she was gorgeous. I wasn't even sure she knew.
“At least hear me out.”
“Sorry, I've gotta get to class.”
“It’s your lunch period.”
She was right.With a defeated sigh, I led us over to a quieter area of the hallway. “Okay. So what, exactly, is this plan you've devised?”
She grinned with pure delight. “It’s a plan that will kill two birds with one stone.”
“I’m against cruelty to animals.”
“Shut up, you moron.” She rolled her eyes at me. “Okay, so it’s a two-part plan. I’ll only tell you the first part of the plan now, and then I’ll tell you the second part after phase one is complete.”
“Phase one? Trish, what is this even about?”
“Don’t play dumb, girl. It's about Jeffrey. You are rightfully pissed that he dumped you for Amber-Lynne Rose, and there has to be at least a small part of you that wants revenge. Am I right?”
I shook my head no as my brain was screaming YES! Of course I wanted revenge. I wanted to make him hurt like he had made me hurt. I wanted him crying over me. So naturally, I was somewhat intrigued by this plan of Trish’s. But I didn’t want to admit it, because being vindictive wasn't part of my nature.
But I guess you could say Jeffrey had brought out the worst in me.
“Fine. Yes, I want revenge. But your plan doesn’t involve weapons of any kind, does it?”
Trish giggled. “If you’re referring to guns or sharp objects, then no. I was thinking more along the lines of turning you into the weapon.”
“Huh?”
“Meet me at my car after school.” Her eyes twinkled with excitement as she started backing up away from me. “Make sure you’ve got plenty of cash with you. We’re going shopping.” With a wink, she turned on her heel and skipped down the remainder of the hallway.
I couldn’t help but cringe at her words. It was no longer necessary for her to explain her “plan” to me, as I was pretty sure I had already figured it out. And if I was correct, and a makeover was somehow involved in said plan, I was going to kill Trish. Or myself. Or both.
Or, better yet, maybe I’d just kill Amber-Lynne Rose instead.
Chapter Two
“You look hot,” Trish informed me with a mouthful of fries.
We were sitting at the food court in the mall after a grueling two-hour salon session, where my long brown locks had been trimmed, layered and then highlighted with subtle streaks of blond, all at Trish's request. I was right about her plan involving a makeover; I knew it before even getting into the car with her after school. I just didn't know why I let myself go along with it.
I buried my face in my hands, mortified. What if someone from school were to see me like this? I no longer looked like Lexi Turner. I looked like Lexi Turner’s Malibu Barbie doppelgänger. And while I had to admit the new hair didn't look bad, I hated it. I hated it because it was so far out of my comfort zone it had an entirely different area code.
“So are you ready to hear more about phase one of my plan?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at me all innocent-like.
“No,” I muttered into my hands.
“We’re going to make Jeffrey regret ever letting you go,” she continued anyway. “We’re going to make you look so sexy, that idiot’s going to be all, ‘Amber-Lynne Rose who?’”
“Trish, I don’t want Jeffrey back,” I lied, removing my hands from my face.
“You’re not trying to get him back, silly.” She shoved another fry into her mouth. “You’re trying to make him miserable.”
“And I’m going to do that by looking sexy?”
“Yes!” she exclaimed, happy I was finally catching on. “After I’m done with these fries, we are totally going to go buy you a whole new wardrobe.”
I rolled my eyes at how overly-excited this whole thing was making her. It was sweet, though, how much she disliked Jeffrey now. There was a time when the three of us were tight, so I was touched that she had chosen to completely ditch him and start hating his guts. She was a true friend.
“Mom wants to know why your cell isn’t turned on,” a rather bored-sounding voice behind me said suddenly.
I recognized the voice and immediately sank down in my chair in hopes of maybe disappearing under the table.
Trish glanced over my shoulder at the owner of the voice and shrugged. “Maybe I didn’t feel like being interrupted. We are on a very important mission.” She motioned to me.
I could feel myself starting to blush furiously as Jase Holloway sauntered over to the other side of the table so that he could see the face of the girl his sister was pointing to. I didn’t want to look at him, for fear I would find him laughing at me, but my eyes disobeyed my wishes and shot up, meeting his icy gaze with my own. To my surprise, he didn’t look amused at all. If anything, he looked disinterested.
He gave me a nod fo
r a greeting. “Your hair is different,” he said, stating the obvious.
“Isn’t it awesome?” Trish gushed.
He seemed to consider it for a moment and then grimaced. “It’s...something,” was his unenthusiastic answer.
To say I wanted to die right then and there would have been an understatement. Jase had never been one to hand out compliments, so I wasn't expecting his reaction to be spectacular. But, "it’s something"? Ouch. He might as well have said he’d seen mullets more awesome than my hair.
Trish turned to me. “What dumbass here meant to say was that your new hair looks beautiful.”
Jase stared blankly at Trish for a moment. “Call Mom,” was all he said before heading back to where he had come from, which was a table full of jocks and cheerleaders on the opposite end of the food court.
“Sorry about Jase.” Trish furrowed her brow. “I thought our parents raised him better than that.”
I gave her a dismissive wave of my hand. “No worries. I actually share the same opinion of my hair as Jase does.”
Ignoring me, she downed the rest of her Coke. “Are you ready to shop now?”
She didn’t wait for me to answer before grabbing my arm and lifting me up out of my chair with brute strength I was surprised to learn she had.
Apparently, it didn’t matter if I was ready or not.
***
Amazingly enough, my mother did not have a heart attack when she saw my hair later that night. In fact, to my complete horror, she loved it.
My dad didn’t even notice.
As for Aaron, he couldn’t understand why I’d only dyed certain strands of hair and not all of them.
I figured it would be best if I refrained from modeling my new clothes in front of them as well.
Trish and I had very different taste in clothing. She was into the whole girly look, but flouncy skirts and frilly shirts looked too weird on me. I wasn't exactly a tomboy, but I did wear jeans only. And black. Lots of black. And occasionally, I wore plaid shirts that could apparently be mistaken for flannel. Of course, nothing Trish picked out for me was black, plaid, or made of denim. She pretty much just picked out her entire closet for me, but in a smaller size.