How Can I Remember Tricky Words To Spell Correctly?

Falling for the school's star goalie was never the plan... especially when my father is the principal who just banned him from the ice. But getting caught in a scandal with the boy I'm supposed to 'fix'? That's more than a catastrophe; it's a death sentence. Aria Bennett is a top student with perfect grades but no social life. She is assigned to tutor the school's newest transfer student, Jason Monroe. However, Jason is consistently late to their sessions, cocky, and resistant to being told what to do. Aria just wants to get the tutoring over with. Things take a turn when she discovers that Jason is on academic probation and risks losing his spot as the goalie on the hockey team. This revelation softens Aria's perspective on him. As their late-night tutoring sessions become a regular occurrence, Aria starts to see the vulnerabilities behind Jason's tough exterior. Meanwhile, Jason never intended to develop feelings for the girl who dresses in oversized hoodies and carries notebooks. Yet, somehow, Aria is getting under his skin and possibly into his heart. "Does Daddy know you're at a party full of hot hockey players and drinking beer?" "Leave me alone," I spat. Jason grinned slyly and leaned in closer. "You know I heard you dressed up thinking you were going on a date, and the guy turned out to be gay." In a drunken stumble, Jason stepped too close and fell on top of me. Jason's eyes fluttered open slightly as he cupped my face. I froze. His hands were warm against my skin, but rational thought fled me. He gave me a look that screamed trouble. And just as I suspected, he leaned in and kissed my lips. My brain had completely shut down. It was my first kiss.

A month before the SATs, I, Jenny Reid, could see my score. Literally. It was just floating right above my head. But there was a catch. Every time I cracked open a prep book, my score would drop by ten points. But if I skipped a day of school? It jumped right back up by ten. So, I played the system. For a whole month, I barely lifted a finger. And on the day of the test, the number glowing over my head was a solid 1560. When the scores finally dropped online… I'd scored a 500. And the 1560? That was my little sister Patricia's score. My parents lost it. As punishment, they got me a grueling night-shift job at a local electronics factory. That first night, a bunch of guys I'd never seen before cornered me in the parking lot and beat me half to death. Fading in and out of consciousness, I heard my sister's voice right by my ear. "You just had to one-up me, didn't you? Thought you were so smart… but you never figured out I was the one controlling that number over your head." The truth hit me like a physical blow. The score had been her trick all along. I opened my eyes—and I was back. One month before the SATs. The number above my head read exactly 1300. "Hey," my sister said, all fake sweetness. "Want to study together tonight? We can go over the practice tests." I looked at the stack of papers in my own hands. Without a word, I pulled out my lighter and set them on fire right there in the driveway. "Exams are coming," I said, watching the flames. "I'm not studying." My score ticked up to 1310. My sister's face was this perfect mask of disappointment, but the second I turned away, I caught the sly smile she couldn't quite hide. She had no idea… the real performance, the one I'd been rehearsing just for her, was finally about to begin.

My name is Aria, so I’ve been told. Last week I was a normal girl about to celebrate her eighteenth birthday. Today I woke up and I can’t even remember my own name. Everyone says I’m not acting like myself but how can I when I don’t remember anything? The touch of THOSE three elicits unfamiliar sensations, can I trust them? Who can I trust if I can’t trust myself? Excerpt: I was shocked. This fine piece of man has never had a girlfriend? “Why not?” I asked him. “I was saving myself for my mate. You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you. How long the three of us waited,” he answered. “Waited as in no girlfriends?” I asked. He smirked, “princess, you’re my first everything. Our first everything.” He winked at me when realization hit. Oh my god. We were all virgins. They saved themselves for me. Trigger Warnings: Blood/blood play Murder/death Abuse of a minor/abuse Dubious consent Compelling (the act of forcing one to do things against their will) Violence Attempted sexual assault

My words can kill. Whatever I say comes true. When I was eight, my cruel adoptive father kicked me into an icy river. I glared at him and said furiously, "You'll drown if you go into water." The next day, he drowned in a stinking ditch where the water barely reached his knees. After realizing I could really kill people, I was so scared I stopped talking and became a mute. A year ago, I was taken back to the Shaw family. In order to stay with the family that I'd finally found after all these years, I absolutely refused to speak. But one day, after Jackie Shaw took a sip of the drink I brought him, he suddenly convulsed and fell to the floor, his face turning purple. A maid screamed in terror, "There's peanut powder in the drink!" Before I could even say anything, my twin sister, Violet, kicked the coffee table, grabbed my hair, and pressed me down hard onto the broken glass shards. "You know Jackie is severely allergic to peanuts! How could you poison him?!" After Mom gave Jackie an emergency injection, she turned around and slapped me hard. "I can't believe I gave birth to a malicious monster like you!" Dad's face was ashen. He splashed boiling tea all over me. "You heartless, vicious ingrate! I can't believe you tried to kill Jackie out of jealousy!" Boiling water mixed with blood dripped down my face, and I clenched my teeth tightly. They had no idea that if I truly wanted him dead, I wouldn't even need to poison him. I just had to speak. Like this. I slowly looked up at Jackie, and my lips moved...

My younger sister, Joey Crawford, and I have taken the exam 20 times in a row. Yet, our answer sheet shows the exact same answers every time. No matter how fast I complete the exam, Joey is able to turn in her paper one second before me. My homeroom teacher, Mr. Harris, has spoken with me three times regarding this matter. At the same time, I receive my first warning for cheating on the exams. Whenever my classmates see me, they say to me, "Hey, cheater! You got busted this time, huh?" The thing is, I've never even touched Joey's paper. How can our answers be exactly the same? During the college entrance exam, I suddenly awaken to the ability to see the live comments dangling in midair. "The female lead is the chosen one! It must feel amazing to have awakened the mind-reading ability and all!" "She relies on reading the side character's mind just to obtain all the answers. So what if the side character excels in her studies? Her role is to become the female lead's stepping stone to success!" It turns out that Joey has been stealing my answers by reading my mind this whole time. As I flip the exam papers over, I start singing the alphabet song mentally. "A-B-C-D-E-F-G…"

During a game of Truth or Dare at a gathering with friends, my girlfriend, Bridget Ellison, loses. Her punishment is to buy coffee for everyone. Half an hour later, she returns carrying more than a dozen bags and starts handing out drinks with a smile. "Francis, you've been pulling all-nighters for two days straight. Here's your iced long black." "Daryl, you like java chip frappe with extra mocha sauce, right?" "And here's yours. Lemon black tea, no ice. You've ordered it hundreds of times." One by one, everyone gets their drink. By the time she reaches me, only an empty bag remains. Everyone at the table freezes. "Where's Aiden's drink?" She pushes her peach frappe toward me and says, "I forgot. He can just share mine." A friend immediately groans and complains, "It's the same every gathering. If you two want to show off how loving you are, can you at least come up with a new routine?" Everyone around us laughs and teases us, but I can't bring myself to even take a sip of the drink. I'm the only one who knows the truth. The display of affection is an act. In reality, she has truly forgotten to buy me a drink. After four years together, Bridget still can't remember that I'm allergic to peaches. I set the peach frappe back on the table. I've spent four years settling for less. Now, it's time for me to leave.