I’m taking her down, even if I go down with her.
That was the thought that whispered itself over and over in my mind as I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling. I wasn’t angry. I was perfectly calm. Okay, maybe a little excited.
Missy had insulted, humiliated, and betrayed me. I’d lost my bet with Rafe. I’d gotten detention—twice. There really wasn’t anything she could do to me that she hadn’t already done.
So I was free.
Free to get revenge.
An image of Mini-Miller flashed in my mind—how he looked as he limped away from me. I solved that problem pretty fast. All it took was a couple of kicks to the shin.
Remembering that made me realize that Mom was right. I am good at sticking up for myself. And Missy really isn’t any different from Mini-Miller except that her clothes are nicer.
But was kicking her shins the best way to teach Missy a lesson? Probably not.
There were almost too many good alternatives.