Inviting The Virgin (Old Version)

Inviting The Virgin (38)

It seemed as if my little act of attempting everyone to work together had accomplished a couple things. It seemed as if this one for all had deviated slightly to a more coherent group but even more astonishing was the way all the girls looked at me once I had finally put my foot down.

            Everyone was looking at me differently. I was a figure of authority, a pawn and symbol of the resistance; whether I wanted to be or not. The hand full of girls gathered in the bathroom were now looking to me for direction. Truthfully I hadn’t expected this outcome and also I didn’t have a plan.     

            “So,” Gwen finally spoke up while I rubbed my aching shoulder—“What do we do now?” she was questioning the thought in everyone’s head.

            Turning around I leaned over the sink looking into the mirror. The girl looking back at me was tired and restless but that didn’t compare to the worn-out and desperate ones behind me. None of them were competent or willing enough to take down Stella, which, only meant one thing; that it was up to Jordan and I.

            I let out a sigh before turning around to face them—“There isn’t much I can do until this game is over and I’ve beaten her,” I paused pondering what I could possibly tell them that wouldn’t make all the respect I’ve gained disappear.

            “If we all try out best we can all make it out of here alive and our dignity intact. Try your best to stay out of Stella’s way and Jordan and I will handle this.” As much as I tried I couldn’t make my voice sound as convincing as Stella was always able to.

            “And what makes you think that you can beat her?” Brittney spat out of fear.

            “Well ladies,” A voice sung swinging open one of the bathroom stales.

            Sandra all but fell out of it, grabbing onto anything to avoid falling. Once she was stable enough to make the two steps from the stale to the sink she rinsed her mouth out with water—“We have an ace,” she gurgled.

            “She is a friend not a foe.” I raised my hands trying to reassure everyone that Sandra was on our side although I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that she actually was.

            “What ace?” Gwen asked her short pixie hair hanging into her face.

            “Ha!” Sandra laughed pathetically—“She doesn’t even realize what it is yet but I do; I know what it is.” She pointed to her chest throwing her head back and laughing at me.

            “All you need to do is aim.” She raised her pointed finger in the shape of a gun towards me—“And fire.” She blew on her index fire before putting it back into the imaginary holster on her hip.