I also began another novel about Whitley Ambrose and her nemesis, Jackson Frederick Tompson III and her endeavors to gain a million of his billion dollars with the help of her best friend and Jack's sister, Halley. Here an excerpt from the first chapter:
* * *
Jackson Frederick Tompson.
The Third.
God, I hated that name.
Jack Tompson was what he was known to the rest of us “mortals” at our school in Madison Heights. Jack Tompson: Jerk, Jock, Playboy, Mr. Popular, Mr. I-don’t-give-a-rip-about-feelings (feelings? What are feelings?), Mr. Holy-than-thou (but I have my own standards), Mr. Every-girl-wants-me-and-I-know-it, SuperHottie, and Mr. Rich.
Oh, and his ambitious life goal? Make the life of Whitley Ambrose hell.
That would be me.
How would I describe my relationship with the beloved Jack Tompson? He was the bane of my existence. And that’s putting it romantically.
My mom once asked me if I ever have that one person who I hate with a passion. I told her no. Technically, that’s true. I don’t hate Jack with a passion. I hate Jack with the wrath of ten thousand suns burning in Hell, keeping the devil’s tootsies warm. With a heater. And gasoline. And a wielder. And a hundred of the hottest stars that ever had the pleasure of gracing this almost perfect earth. (Almost perfect because, without Jack, it would be).
See? I don’t hate him completely. After all, I didn’t say a million of the hottest stars - just a hundred. I can have mercy.
You’re probably wondering what course of action Jack decided to take that garnered my unrequited hate. Well, that’s a bit of a longer story. The basic jist? He picked on me.
All.
The.
Time.
Forget I was younger by a year. Forget I had a life I enjoyed living. Forget that we had been good friends up until our fifth birthday - which I had the curse of sharing with him. He decided that, instead of forgetting all about me, he’d leave emotional battle scars all over me and make my social life non-existent.
The day Jack left for college was the day I spent twenty-four hours in my bedroom eating chocolate ice-cream, crying from relief with Halley (well, Halley was crying for other reasons), and singing praises to the Lord, just like Paul and Silas in jail. Thank goodness for Halley. She’s been my best friend since birth. She stuck through it with me throughout all those terrible years. Even letting me host most of the sleepovers at my house. She was a godsend.
There was only one little glitch in our relationship.
She happened to be the sister of Jackson Frederick Tompson. The Third. Hence, the infrequent slumber parties at her house. And, the reason why she was crying when he left for college. The two of them actually had a close relationship. Yet, for some inconceivable reason, Jack chose to love his sister and hate his sister’s best friend. Go figure. Honestly, it wasn’t that big of a deal, the feeling was pretty mutual.
Well, I might have hated him more than he hated me, but that’s just a technicality. Hate is hate.
So, when I found out Mr. I-Have-It-All became a billionaire, because God decided to grace - cough waste - such a brilliant mind on such an idiot of a person, that wasn’t exactly the best day of my life.
It was also my sophomore year in college: the time when I had a totaled car, behind in dorm payments, and was about to order textbooks for my junior year.
Yay me.
It also didn’t help that he was so smart that, not only did he graduate from high school a semester early, but he graduated from college a year early.
And I was still paying for a dorm.
