Brooke Carter,
Run away...while you still can.
No fucking way. Not another one! Why would anyone-? What did I even do-? Who would even-? God, I can't even conjure up a complete sentence! And of course, I instantly felt the prick of tears forming in my waterline.
As if on cue, I could feel someone's gaze burning into the back of my skull. Please be Chelsea, please be Chelsea! I squinted my eyes, not wanting to turn around - but my legs forced me to. A few straggling students blurred past me (in a hurry to make it onto the bus I'm assuming), and my suspicion was proven to be correct.
There was a guy leaning against a locker directly across from mine, just staring at me. I hastily twisted back around. He wasn't looking directly at me, was he? I glanced beside me only to see that I was the only person in this general area. While packing my things I had a brilliant idea, I'll use my mirror to see him! It may have been a small compact mirror, but it served it's purpose.
I fluffed my hair and raised it higher. He was wearing a pair of loose fitting dark-wash jeans, and a plain navy colored tee-shirt. I'll admit one thing, the hairstyle he was wearing really worked for him. His light chestnut hair was gelled up like a ramp, causing his thick lashes and full lips to be the highlights of his face.
This boy infuriated me.
He was watching me read his sadistic little note. Before I knew it, I was slamming my locker shut and strutting towards him - out for blood. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I shouted at him, supposedly catching him off guard.
He gave me a confused look and replied. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't play stupid with me! Leaving me death threats and thinking I wouldn't figure out who you are? Did you think I was stupid?" Thankfully, the hall was empty. I wouldn't want this to be a huge spectacle.
"I don't even know who you are, I was just reading that sign above your locker! And why would I do that anyways," he yelled back in retort, glancing up at said poster.
"I don't know, maybe because you're psychotic! An-"
"I'm not the one screaming at a stranger for something they didn't do," he interjected. "Maybe you should get your facts right before you go accusing people you've never even met." Letting out a huff, he turned the corner, leaving my sight.
I sighed and rubbed my face, pulling down on my cheeks slightly. He was right - dammit, of course he was right. Not only was I being a raging bitch, but I was also acting like I belonged in a straight-jacket! Not to mention that he was actually kind of cute, but only in that mysterious-hottie kind of way. So, I suppose I can add that I'm an idiot as well. Way to go, Brooke. Real smooth.
Immediately after the mental beat-down I just gave myself, I heard a phone ring. Shrugging my shoulders, I read the poster he may or may not have been viewing.
Attention all Juniors and Seniors, PROM 2K13 tickets go on sale this Friday at the bookstore! $48 for one, or $60 for two!
I let out an audible scoff. Dances are so stupid. All they do is give preppy-bitches a reason to wear the sluttiest dresses they can find, and spray tan until they turn 'Oompa Loompa' orange. As for the guys, they have to buy flowers and hold purses all night, in the hopes that they'll get some ass (which we all know they won't). The themes are usually something stupid like 'Dance in the Clouds' or 'Starry Night'. Oh, and sometimes they'll use recycled themes so they can reuse the props. Dances such as these include 'Las Vegas Lights', "Hollwood', or even 'As Time Goes By' - the fairytale version of a prom.
Tired of thinking how pointless and pricey PROM 2K13 sounded, I went back into my locker and grabbed my bag. All I wanted to do right now was go home, take a nice hot shower, and go to fucking sleep. But, of course, I had to go shut that damn phone up already! I already had a headache, and that damn ring-tone wasn't helping any!
Searching for which locker it was coming from, I found myself drawn towards the bay across from mine. As I pressed my ear against one of the lockers, I noticed the sound at my feet. After picking up the phone I read the name splayed across it's touchscreen. Heaven. I swiped it to decline and saw that it didn't have a password on it. Glancing around and biting my lower lip, I did the dumbest thing humanly possible. I slid the screen to unlock.
The background was of a painfully familiar girl. My heart quickened, my head spun, and my mouth went dry. It was me. I nearly fell over, because it felt like someone just punched me in the stomach. Almost as if on cue, a text popped up on the screen.
From: Heaven
Decline me? Guess we all know where you're going after all is said and done.
I swiveled my body around and looked for the person fucking with me. When I didn't see anyone, or anything, I took a deep breath and reread the text. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of crying, so I just threw the phone on the floor and fled to my car.
Sliding into the leather seat, my butt instantly felt as though it was on fire. Silently cursing for buying a vehicle with black interior, I jammed my key into the ignition. With the AC blasting through the vents I tried to dislodge that text from my memories.
That text, the notes, the boy - but it was just so hard trying to forget. I'm a fucking idiot for thinking I can figure this out all on my own, but I don't know who else to turn to. I can't go to Chelsea or any of my other friends for that matter - what if they get notes as well? There's no way I'd drag them down with me. I'm a better friend than that.
I just have to figure out what they want from me. If I give them what they want they'll leave me alone, right? Maybe they have no motives - maybe I'm just their little toy. They can play with me, shake me up like a rag doll, and throw away when they get bored.
The road was blurred by more tears as I wiped them away and smashed my fist against the steering wheel. "Fuck!" I cried out, turning off to the side. In the time I was pulled over, all I did was cry and think about everything happening. I wanted this to stop. I needed this to stop.
Attempting to calm the churning in my stomach, I tapped on the Twitter app. Instead of churning, my stomach all but dropped. It was a message from someone with no picture, no tweets, nothing. And their name - unknown.
To: unknown
What do you want from me?!
Anxiously waiting for a reply, my body grew heated in anxiety. Shivers rolled down my body as the ping of my phone alerted me they had answered my question. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I clicked the message open.
From: unknown
Calm down, we just want you to play a little game with us...
What the fuck was this, SAW? I decided that I'd humor them, but as soon as I figured out who they were I'd report them to the authorities.
To: unknown
What kind of a game??
From: unknown
Come to this address tonight and find out. We look forward to seeing you very soon, Brooke.
The text was sent with the link to Google Maps. The location was in the remote area of town - somewhere that I was unfamiliar with. I shook my head and eased back onto the street, mumbling to myself. "God dammit, Brookelyn Paige Carter...what're you getting yourself into?"
Soon enough, I would have my answer as I followed the route on my screen.
Pic to the side is Chelsea! >>
YOU ARE READING
This Means War (The Virgin Wars Contest)
Teen Fiction"You know, this would be a lot easier if you just gave up now. It'll save you the embarrassment. You know you're gonna lose, so why even bother trying?" Her tone enraged me. It was somewhere between a sinister pout, and a snide suggestion. This game...
