'A Good Girl's Revenge' (On Hold Till Further Notice)

Chapter One. YOU SCRATCHED MY CAR?!

So this is the next book after Bad Girl, but i'm trying to make it so you can still read even if you haven't read the first book : )

remember to vote and comment guys, it makes me want to upload faster : )

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‘A Good Girl’s Revenge on the Schools Bad Ass?’

{Sequel to “The BAD girl is always more fun.}

Chapter One. YOU scratched my car?!

“Millie Everson!” screamed my Mother from the top of the large stare case that lead down to the opening of our ridiculously large house. I dropped my suit case and bags and held open my arms “MUM! I missed you!” I screamed as I made my way to the stair case waiting for my mother to run down to come and give me a hug, but, as my father would say, ‘she is Madison Rice…you never know what she will do next’ and for about the millionth time I have to give it to my dad; he really knew what he was talking about.

My mum, Madison Everson, previously known as Madison Rice, at aged 38, helps my father run ‘The Everson Group’ (a well know company specializing in every type of business you can think of) and mum also runs four shelters for children who need help with family, friends, wellbeing and just life in general really. What a saint my mum is you may be thinking, but my mum, if anything, is a bad ass.

Just last week I received a call asking if I could pay my mother’s bail as she didn’t want to disturb my father as he was in some big meeting. But when I had to remind her I was overseas at boarding school in France, meaning I just couldn’t drop by the local cop shop to bail her out of jail, she just laughed and told me she just wanted me to call my dad in a few hours to come get her. She didn’t mind waiting because some old friend of hers was in her holding cell with her.

How she got into jail you ask? Well mum here decided it was a good idea to punch a man in the face and smash up his car for calling one of her shelter kids ‘trash’. Sure I agree that guy had it coming, I mean those kids are already going through so much, no need to add to it. Yet it would be nice if mum would just once use her words instead of her fist…or foot…or car…well anything really that would cause physical damage to another to work out an argument. Yet as I watched my 38 year old mum slide down the stair case banister and lunge into the air tackling me to the ground in an almighty hug, I really don’t think I would want her to change one bit.

“Millie baby!” mum said planting a kiss on my cheek and pulling back so she was just sitting on top of me with hands on either side of my face, squishing my cheeks together so I looked like a fish. “Moom con yow plez jet ophe ma?” translation ‘mum can you please get off me?’ Mum chuckled and jumped off me finally releasing me and my cheeks. I stood up and gave her a quick hug before pulling her back and taking in my crazy mum. She was wearing a tight white tee-shirt covered in grease stains and some worn out, ripped old jeans with black pumps. Unlike my mother I can’t walk in heels to save my life! Yet she manages to were a pair on every occasion.

Mum’s long dark brown hair, with one or to silver strands starting to come in at the sides, was pulled back into a pony tail. She had one wrinkle on the right side of her eye from smiling too much, but the look just wouldn’t be complete without the apron tied lopsided around her waist. Instead of wooden spoons and oven mitts in the pockets like most mum’s, there was a wrench and a grease cloth that belonged to whichever car or bike my mother was playing with before she heard I was home.