Hell's Belles Read Online Free Page B

where Dee had hit her — anything above the shoulders or below mid-thigh was illegal. Angry and embarrassed, Annie scrambled to her feet and stumbled back onto the track.
    Annie managed to catch up with the pack, but by then, Dee Stroyer had easily taken the lead, passed through the pack a second time, scored five points, and called off the jam. Watching her high-five her teammates made Annie seethe.
    Shake it off, she told herself. Don’t let that nasty girl get to you!
    Even though it was just a scrimmage, neither team showed any mercy. There was a fair amount of bruising before Coach Ritter finally signaled the end of practice.
    â€œ47-47,” Slammy Tammy announced. “Good work, ladies. Based on what I saw today, I’m thinking our real bout will be a close one.”
    The teams went off to the locker room, exhausted, but more revved up than ever for the bout that weekend. Holly actually used the term “blood bath.”
    As she changed out of her sweaty gear and into her normal clothes, Annie came to a decision. I’m not going to fall for any of those mind games again, she vowed silently. Come Saturday, Dee Stroyer’s going to be the one who gets destroyed!

As far as Annie was concerned, Emily Brontë was proof that some of the greatest things in life came from England.
    Her English teacher, Ms. Schwartz, was dropping tattered paperback copies of Wuthering Heights onto the first desk in each row.
    â€œTake one and pass the others back,” she directed.
    Annie, who was seated directly behind Tyler, waited while he accepted the three dog-eared books from the boy in front of him, kept one for himself, then turned over his shoulder to give Annie the remaining two.
    When he did, Annie’s breath caught in her throat. The soccer captain’s eyes were so incredibly green. She wondered how Ms. Brontë might describe that color: The dark green of moss on the Yorkshire Moors.
    Tyler smiled as he handed over the books. “Hope this is better than A Tale of Two Cities,” he said, referring to the last book the class had read.
    Annie gulped and tried to return the smile. As she took the books, his fingers brushed hers. The contact was unintentional, she knew, but still she had to suppress the urge to let out a dreamy sigh. When he turned away, she sat staring at the back of his head for so long that the boy behind her had to tap her shoulder to remind her to pass him a book.
    â€œOpen your books to page fifty-eight,” said Ms. Schwartz, striding up and down the rows of desks, her batik-print skirt billowing as she went. “‘He shall never know I love him: and that, not because he’s handsome, but because he’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same,’” the bohemian teacher read aloud dramatically. She sighed, clutched the book to her chest, and said, “Wuthering Heights remains one of the greatest love stories ever told.”
    Wow. Emily Brontë. You go, girl!
    Annie gazed at the handsome soccer player sitting in front of her. Brontë’s words, about Catherine’s love for Heathcliff, perfectly echoed Annie’s own unrequited feelings for Tyler.
    â€œKelsey?” The teacher called on the captain of the cheerleading squad, whose hand was raised high in the air.
    â€œUm, Ms. Schwartz,” said Kelsey in a faux-sweet tone. “I was just wondering if anyone has a tissue that Annie could use?” She nodded pointedly toward the back of Tyler’s broad shoulders with a nasty grin. “She’s drooling.”
    Fortunately, only the people seated immediately around Annie made the connection. But their giggles caused Annie’s cheeks to flush so ferociously she thought her face might go up in flames. She desperately wished she could disappear into the pages of Brontë’s masterpiece, even if that meant she’d be stranded in the middle of a Yorkshire