Prude

Chapter 1: Please?

"Please?"

I had heard that word maybe fifty times today. It was the sound of my best friend, Jazz, begging and pleading, but I wasn't that easy to manipulate.

"Denise."

I spun round at the sound of my name. "What?!"

"Please."

"For the love of chocolate!" I practically screamed, "Please stop saying that word!"

Jazz grinned at me. "You just said it!" And she stuck her tongue out.

I glared.

Her face relaxed, then hardened as she became serious. "Okay," she began. "Pl..." She didn't want to say the "word" and her face scrunched up in concentration. "Take the checklist and tick all the things that apply."

I was about to retort with a firm "no" but she-

She did not!

The puppy-dog eyes.

I could feel myself wavering.

I sighed heavily. "Fine."

I stood up from where we sat in the lunch hall as the bell rang, snatching the booklet she made out of her hand and walked to my next lesson.

I suppose I should explain.

Ever since the new boy, Hunter Williams, came to our school at the beginning of the school year, we couldn't stop arguing. It was always the little things. You know...

Like the way he held his pen, or the way he drooled over girls, or the way his trousers were hanging just too low. Something... Just something about him that made my mouth itch.

Don't be on his side though! Because he started it. It was the way I knew the answer to:

If f'(x) = x + 3 and curve C goes through the point (2,7), what is the gradient to the normal of the tangent to C at point (2,7).

on the first lesson we had together.

I mean it should only take a normal seventeen year old one minute tops to work out that the answer is -1/5 ... Right?

Because I'm not a genius or anything.

Since then he taunted me about the way I dress, the way I wear my hair, who I hang with and the fact that since he's been here he hasn't seen me rub my body on any of the boys in our year.

He thinks I should talk more with other boys other than him if I want be be considered normal. Like we can even call what we do talking. I'd say bantering, and that's even a little bit of an understatement.

He calls me a prude. That's his word for anyone who's NOT a slut. How nice.

I walked through the crowdy, sweaty halls of Hillcrest Academy, cursing Hunter in my mind as I made my way to English, which I had with him.

Speak of the devil.

He grinned widely. "Denise Prane."

Should I be honest and say that I liked the way he said my name? Nah, I'll lie.

I glared. "Don't say my name Hunter, you destroy it's beauty."

He laughed, which made me angry. "Prude, if it was beautiful you would be mine."

If my glare could get any more fierce, it did. But before I could reply Ms Chindle came round the corner of the corridor, chided us for shouting, opened the door and beckoned us in.

And that was the end.

For now anyway.

*

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Who dares wake me up from my sleep at this unjust hour?

I opened my eyes to see the whole of my English class watching me. Josie Hansen who sat next to me in class had woken me.

If my skin was pale, you would have seen my blush. But thankfully you couldn't because of my mocha skin colour.

"Denise!" I turned to see Ms Chindle glaring at me. "Please refrain from sleeping in my class."

How can I when your lessons are so boring I feel like jumping out of the window to see if I can fly?

"Sorry miss," was all I said.

She nodded. "As I was saying, Romeo was a man of great talents..."

I think I should try the flying thing out now...

*

The class ended too late for me. I was the last to pack up my books and hence the last to leave the class. As I left the classroom, someone pulled me onwards the opposite direction of the exit. I noticed the hall was unusually empty.

The person spun me round.

My eyes met dazzling blue eyes with flecks of gold. The boy's hair was a light brown, almost blonde. He had a strong chin and high cheekbones, and a nose that finished off his face to perfection.

Simply: hotness.

"Prude."

You guessed, it was Hunter.

"Tomorrow, wear a pair of jeans that aren't ripped at the inner thigh because we don't want to see any part of your unattractive legs." He thought for a moment as I gasped in surprise, feeling around the leg area for the hole, which was there. Which left me wondering how I hadn't felt the cold November air on my flesh.

Hunter's eyes found mine again. Then he said, "Please."

Before walking away, leaving me agitated.

And you know what was the saddest thing?

I wasn't mad because he called me prude again, or because he called my legs "unattractive" or told me about the hole in my jeans after the lesson.

Nope, it was just because he said "please".

*****

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