SOLD! To the Player On the Back Row.

SOLD! To the Player On the Back Row. [#13]

Without being big-headed – I like this one. ;)
I hope you do too!
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Once again, I ran to art room absolutely knackering my legs. I swear, I was actually whimpering, it was that painful. How did I let myself get so unfit? Damn those midnight Chinese takeaways with Grayson! It’s so unfair he has the metabolism of a hummingbird! 

I burst into the room, ignoring the scowl from MISS Fiakoftska and running over to my table. “You!” I panted to Sophia, throwing my bag down.

She looked up lazily with a crooked smile. “Good morning, sunshine?”

I let the next set of words out in one long word, “You’re-beautiful-you’re-perfect-you-should-be-a-model-oh-ps,” I took a huge deep breath, “I need a massive favour.”

“Well,” she sniggered, concentrating on her hand idly sketching, “that was a given seeing as you wacked out those flattering lies.” Seriously? Has she looked in the mirror recently?

“Lies?” I breathed, still gasping for air. I mean, I knew I was unfit but this was just embarrassing. “What are you on?” I shook my head, noticing I was getting sidetracked. I was about to spend the full art lesson telling her why she was beautiful here *points at face* and here *points at heart*. But then I realised that that was lame. “Anyway, shut up. This is serious,” I shouted.

Some kid on the table next to us tutted ridiculously loud, glaring over at us. “Shh!” he hissed, causing my fist to clench. I always wondered what it would be like to hit a bag of flour wearing eyeliner...

“Shh?” I said, and he immediately looked scared. YES! I SCARED SOMEONE! I didn’t even wack out the eyebrow. “There’s a door right there, kid,” I said, jerking my head in that direction. “You know how to use one.”

Fia glared at him too, but it was far more lazy – just as piercing, though. I don’t know she pulled off EVERY look that was lethargic! “There’s also a banister three floors high outside of it too,” she sighed, “I’m guessing you could probably figure out something to do with that too.”

I looked at her proudly. “You’re so cool,” I grinned.

She just shrugged modestly, looking back at her work. “I learnt it from the best.” I got out my art pad and looked at the previous thing I’d done. WTF WAS THIS? It looked like the elephant man but the title was ‘An Apple’ What’s wrong with my life? “This favour?” Fia asked after I sat in silence for a while, hating myself.

Favour? OH. Right. I nodded eagerly after remembering, saying with a frown, “It’s... huge.”

THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID! WOHHHHH!

“Okay...” she trailed, still not looking up. She actually didn’t look bothered. She either didn’t care about me (most probable) or she trusted me (most delusional).

I frowned again. Wow, I didn’t realise it would be this hard to ask her! “You won’t want to do it...”

“Well then,” she finally looked up with an impatient smirk, “we’ll never know, will we? Seeing as you won’t tell me.”

“Okay!” I snapped back, burying my face in my hands. “Right,” I said, my voice muffled by palms, “You know we fraped Scott?”

“How could I forget, girl with no face?” she laughed, “I swear, I un-liked that status so many times just so I could like it again.”

I looked up briefly with a raised eyebrow. I didn’t think of that... A constant stream of notifications saying ‘Sophia Witty has liked your status’, ‘Sophia Witty has liked your status’, ‘Sophia Witty has liked your status’. Brilliant. “Really? Well played!” Once again, she just nodded modestly and after the proud moment, it was time to hide my face again... in shame. “But yeah, anyway – he got me back it would seem...”

She let out a short laugh of shock, “What? How?”

Suddenly, my face in my hands wasn’t enough. I collapsed onto the desk, my head shielded by my arms wrapped around it. “He texted Morey from my phone saying I was interested in him...”

“What? Don’t you pass-code?”

Something I failed to mention earlier – mainly due to shame... “It’s 1111...” I frowned.

Her pitch suddenly turned into a violent whisper, “Are you mentally deficient?”

I sat up abruptly and shrugged, “A little.” I then slammed my pencil on the desk, whispering back, “BUT SHUT UP A SECOND. I need to get him back...” It seemed my voice ran out of fuel at that point as I was just staring at her with this stupid moving mouth with no sound coming out.

PHOEBE, MAN UP.

“Just bloody tell me!” she snapped.

I took a deep breath and cleared my throat. Whilst looking intently at the desk, I replied quickly, “I need you to get him into a dark room or something, like a storage cupboard in school by getting with him--”

“Getting with him?!” she asked mortified, her voice so loud and high pitched making the whole room stare. She flushed slightly, but my glare scared all of the fake-emos away. Boom. These guys were like... my bitches. Why could I only scare them and no one else?! “As in...” she asked dramatically quieter with a trembling lip, “I have to... kiss him and... stuff?!”

I shrugged again nonchalantly, “A little,” before grinning widely, “ANYWAYS.”

“No,” was all she had in response as she resumed her art-work as if that dismissed the conversation.

“No - please, Fia!”

I reached my hand across the table as if to say ‘Hold my hand and we can pray together x-x-x’ but she just ignored it. There was a bit of silence between us. Disappointment suddenly overwhelmed me. I had gotten my hopes up so much about this plan – I just expected Fia to do it. Was I stupid? (RHETORICAL QUESTION, OKAY?!) Like she needed to help me... “Whats in it for me?” she asked, surprising me. Well, I suppose that made more sense than her wanting to help me... “This is a big ask, after all,” she said, drawing.

Okay, Phoebe. Make it about her! Damn it - I hate thinking on the spot! “Umm,” I trailed, “I will forever be your minion.” She stared at me offended. Possibly because she already thought I was her minion. Think of something else, Phoebe - come on! “And...” I trailed again. Until I thought of something brilliant... “You get to be the girl to humiliate the biggest player in school.” Her eyes kind of lit up at this point and her hand finally stopped sketching. “Yeah,” I grinned, I’D GOT HER! “You’d go down in like... girl history. And boys – because you’d be so fierce, like BEYONCE or something, they’ll all want to get in your knickers.”

She frowned at the last point. Where was the line I crossed? I couldn’t even see it anymore... “Wow, you really make it sound appealing,” she sighed.

“Okay, forget the boys,” I said quickly, “but the girls? You’d be like... official queen. You wouldn’t have to fight it out with those bitches--” WOH THERE PHOEBE. You’re talking about her bezzers, there. You might want to refrain from the insults? “I MEAAAAAAAN... Your friends. Who I love. Lots. And lots.” Lies. All lies.

She just shrugged casually, “It’s fine, they’re bitches.” THIS IS WHY I LOVED HER. But why did she hang around with them?

“Sooooo?” I trailed with a grin, “STICK IT TO ‘EM!”

She burst out laughing at my retardation. Even my ghetto mind was rofl’ing at that. “Only if you promise to never say that again!”

“Was that a yes?” I smirked.

She smiled at me uncomfortably for a few seconds as if she wanted to cover her own face up, squirming. All though that would be a crime. On Beau-tanity. (Beauty/Humanity)... “What is it I should do then?” She finally asked quietly.

I had to think of a dead baby to stop me from smiling.

“That’s my slutty girl!” was all I said proudly before I gave her my specific details of the soft-porno I’d directed in my head. The backing music would definitely have to be a David Banner song – his lyrics were so dirty, I’m pretty sure he was born in a sewer.

What’s wrong with me?



I decided that leaving Grayson alone for one morning break-time wouldn’t hurt him. It might even make him stronger and more independent. Or he could end up sitting alone in the boy’s toilets like last time, humming the theme tune to Danger Mouse. But I was too busy. I had to prep my girl.

Sophia’s pretty good at doing her makeup (like I said) so it wasn’t as if I needed to help her in that department. But the thing I liked about her was the thing we needed to change: She didn’t need to be slutty to be the hottest girl to walk the earth. I respected her for that...

But today, I wanted her looking like a hoe, bitches!

We were in the girl’s toilets as I was tugging at her clothes. I lifted up her blouse, exposing the waist-band of her skirt and rolled it up a few times, flashing a bit more thigh than before. Wow. Her legs...

PHOEBE. YOU’ STRAIGHT, BITCH.

Oh, yeah... Boys <3

She looked increasingly uncomfortable when I unbuttoned a few buttons from the top of her shirt. Her hands immediately covered up her incredible cleavage so I flicked her on the forehead. That may not sound like much but I’m pretty sure my fingers were made of led as it never failed to cause people to compliment me on my ‘infliction of severe pain’. Yeah, yeah – I know, I’m going to hell.

Her hands flew up to her forehead where a bruise would probably appear tomorrow... so I took the liberty to arrange her bra so her ‘assets’ were as pert and high as can be.

After messing up her hair, I stood back to take a look at my work. A little tear came to my eye. I felt like a pimp sending out his new girl to her first client. It was a beautiful moment. But she just scowled.

“You ready?” I smirked.

“Let’s get this over with.”




“And that’s why I’ll never eat sushi again.”

I smiled proudly at my word of warning, the dangers of cheap sushi from a petrol station, and picked up my fork, ready to eat the rest of my lunch.

Surprisingly, Grayson put his down. “Wow,” he said blandly, “That was... an appealing story.” He folded his arms on the table and look deliberately to the side. A clear sign he was pissed off.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked with my mouth full, “You haven’t said a word all day.”

He looked at me with incredulous eyes. “What do you want me to say?”

“Say anything!” I shrugged casually, “Actually, do anything!” I listed all the things he usually did such as, “Smile, laugh,” but when I couldn’t think of anything else, I just emphasised, “err... SMILE. I just told you the most grotesque story about myself throwing up at the side of the motorway with cars going past beeping their horns at me – including my parents pretending to drive off – and you didn’t even look at my when I was speaking.” Again, with the head turn but this time, it was shaking. What do I do when things are awkward? I crack a joke, kids. “Be honest,” I leaned in whispering, trying desperately not to laugh, “where did your uncle put his fingers last night?--”

“Oh, yeah,” he interrupted with so much venom, I didn’t recognise him. “It’s all a big joke, is it?”

I couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh. “Well, yeah,” I stuttered, “I thought--”

“That I shag my uncle on a regular basis?! Because I’m like ‘that’, am I?” He was becoming so aggressive, I wondered how long he’d been holding this in for. I thought it was a joke we shared about his weird uncle... I would never poke fun at something he actually found disturbing.

“Grayson,” I laughed nervously again, whispering in case anyone was listening, “I don’t actually think you’re incest--”

“But you think I’m gay?!” he retorted so quickly, his voice broke a little.

Now, it was time for a genuine laugh. “What?!” I asked incredulously. Where had this come from?! “No!”

“Oh,” he nodded sarcastically, “so I’m supposed to believe that text last night was a joke, am I? I didn’t text you back because, understandably, I was a bit pissed off so you thought ‘Shit! He’s offended! I mean, ha-ha it was only a joke!’”

 I shook my head frantically, trying to figure out his words, replying, “Text--” But then I realised. A termite called Scott Murray. I took a deep breath, looking down at the table. “Text?” I said slowly, “What text?”

He inspected the look on my face and I could see him re-analysing the situation. As if he were saying in his mind, ‘Oh, the fact she knows nothing about this makes more sense...’ “The text...” he said a LOT quieter, “you sent me... last night?” Guilt immediately plagued his face as I buried my own in my hands.

“I didn’t have my phone last night.”

“Who had it--” he started before he quickly realised. “Scott.”

He stood up from the table and I could literally feel how hot his skin was when I grabbed his arm. “Don’t!” I said casually. But he just looked down at me in amazement.

“Why not?” he asked aggressively.

“Because, one,” I smiled airily, holding up a thumb, “he’s not in the room.” Grayson immediately looked around the cafeteria and as he realised, his square shoulders slumped. I raised another finger, “Two, you’d look like a twat approaching his large group of friends by yourself, asking him to duel. You’ll probably get so nervous from all the eyes staring at you, you’d probably confess your love for ponies again--”

“That was one time, arsehole!” he snapped defensively.

“Yet, it never gets old,” I smiled. I waggled my last finger slowly, “And number three. You’re busy.”

He looked at me with a confused raised eyebrow. “Doing what?”

I shrugged casually. “You’re preparing to apologise to me. Remember? Because that tone of voice you just used on me?” I dropped my casual smile and replaced it with a serious face I didn’t usually use on him. Mainly on people trying to sell me things on the street, post men making me sign for packages and my mirror when I’m practising my Dr Cox impression off Scrubs, “I never want to hear that again.”

He sat down slowly, avoiding eye contact. We ate in silence for a while. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel awkward. Mainly because I was too busy singing in my head, ‘HAHAH, HE’S DYING RIGHT NOW. HE FEELS SO BAD/GUILTY/AWKWARD... AND SO HE SHOULDDDDDD’

But suddenly, little Grayson became a big boy. “Sorry, Thornton,” he was pushing food all over his plate but never eating it. Probs due to my sushi story but PROBS awkwardness as well... “I should’ve really thought that through a bit more.”

I shrugged again. Wow, I was such a legend – taking it this well. “It’s alright, babe. We all know your brain isn’t fully developed so we can’t expect you to be rational all the time.”

He just fake-scowled and I chuckled to myself. “Now that I think about it,” he said after a moments silence with a thoughtful gaze, “it didn’t even sound like you. Well, look like you... because it was a text...”

“What did it say?”

He sighed. “Just ‘Blah, blah, blah, it’s okay if you want to tell me, blah, blah, blah, I won’t tell anyone, blah, blah, blah, you’ll feel so much better when you do, blah, blah, blah’--”

“Blah, blah, blah.” I smiled, finishing off his long string of words.

He smiled too. I’m sorry but I love it when people feel guilty about me. YEAH. “Sorry,” he mumbled again, but this time he was looking at me and his big old eyes had me at ‘hello’! Even though... he didn’t say ‘hello’. You know what I mean!

“You’ve already said that,” I smirked, “You’re forgiven.”

He shook his head in anger again. I could tell Scott was running through his mind... “I just hate that guy, so much.”

“I know--” I agreed.

“I just want to see him suffer the shit he puts other people through, you know? And--”

“Grayson--” I tried to interrupt with an excited smile.

He looked at me nonchalantly, waving it away whilst saying, “I’m not done ranting, hang on. And then he’d know what it felt like--”

This couldn’t hang on. “Grayson--”

He looked at me impatiently, “Thornton, hang on...”

“GRAYSON!” I threw a piece of dry pasta and it hit him on the forehead. His face flinched, looking like a cats bum, but I didn’t even have time to laugh.

“What?!” he snapped.

I smiled triumphantly. “Turn around.”

And like the followers of Jesus, he obeyed. (Yes, I just compared myself to Jesus.)

Thankfully, we weren’t the only two to witness this: stood in the lunch line was Scott Murray. He looked like he was getting the lasagne – I nearly got that but WHO THE EFF CARES! THIS WASN’T ABOUT THE FOOD HE WAS ORDERING!

Every eye was on his behind. Not because it was a nice shape or anything like that – no, it was because he was dressed in a girl’s sports-skirt. And judging by the tightness and the shortness, I guessed it was one of the younger girls’... maybe a ten year old? And matched with that skirt was a sports-polo shirt. Once again, a girl’s. Once again, a ten year olds. It was practically tearing at his broad shoulders but what was more noticeable was the fact the bottom of the shirt was clinging around his waist, exposing his stomach.

He looked a picture.

He looked like he’d followed the little white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland and drank one of those growth drinks.

He looked like a confused child who wasn’t sure about his sexuality who had repeatedly re-taken year six.

He looked like the hulk... only skinner, whiter and wearing girl’s clothes.

He looked like Ross on that episode where he wears his ‘Frankie Says Relax’ t-shirt.

He looked like an effing tard.

“Sweet baby Jesus,” was all Grayson could say as a smile lit up his face.

And the whole school was laughing at him as he tried to ignore them, ordering his dinner.

After a good two minutes of solid laughter/chat about him, he turned, trying to find his friends’ table to sit down. Finally acknowledging the people laughing at him, including many teachers, he nodded with a smile that said ‘I’m pissed off but I’m gonna hold my head high.’

What – whilst wearing your skirt?

But to my surprise, and to many others, the little girl spoke.

“Yeah, laugh it up,” he said, and people began to quieten down – not out of intimidation, just to see if he’d say anything else. And now he had the floor, he took advantage. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m wearing this attire?” People stifled their laughs once again but he just carried on with his arrogant smile, “Well, all I’ll say is an unlikely friendship was exposed to me today. Two girls I thought had nothing in common with each other. But apparently they do. They like to make me look a bit of an idiot by stealing my clothes. But all I’ll say to those two girls is that you have seriously played with fire today.” Uh oh... “And as we all know,” he said, thankfully not looking my way, “Fire burns.”
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Thank you SO much for reading.
I honestly didn’t expect anyone to read this story past Chapter 3 but there you go.
Angels DO exist. (I am so smooth.)
Love to my loyalies, once again. I don’t know what I’d be without you, other than a manic depressive saying WHY DOES NO ONE LIKE MY STORY!
Have an amazing day, guys.
Bells.xo