Mr and Mrs Nemesis✔️

Chapter Two - Peperoni Pizza Scarf

"Yeah Hendrix." I drawl in a mocking melody, deciding a moment after to stick my tongue out at him like a five year old.

"And you!" I stop short, spinning back to face Alena with a startled expression. "You've just been threatened with expulsion, and you can't hold your temper enough to let this one go? Eli is a lot of things, but there is no way he'd force you to get naked in front of a hall full of people. Think logically." She proclaims.

I splutter for a moment, not sure what to say. What is this double-crossing behaviour? Treason, of the highest order! "But –"

She shakes her head and raises a hand to stop me. "No Chaps, you're both as bad as each other. Grow up. And stop wasting perfectly delicious pizza!" She screeches the last part, her voice breaking as it raises a few octaves. I quick realise what her problem is – her diet. She's just upset that while she's eating salad, she has to watch me slap pizza on to someone undeserving. She huffs and returns to her salad, flushed red. Perhaps I can forgive this public betrayal.

"Yeah Chaps." Elijah mocks.

"Don't call me that." I snap at him. "Now piss off." I add, slumping back into my seat before taking a mouthful of my pizza weapon. Hell if I was going to waste it.

~

I've endured the schools free guidance counselling for the past four years. Originally, it was an hour here and there for 'cool down time', but eventually, my session became far more regimented in a hope to tackle my rather volatile emotions and minimal anger issues.

Perhaps they'd be better well received if I thought Miss Hardy had a clue what she was doing. Imagine trying to talk through the anger issues of a girl with the stimulus in the room all the while. Hendrix, if that's not clear enough, because she decided that we both had obstacles we needed to overcome.

"I've heard what happened this morning." She says in that awfully condescending voice as I sink further into the chair, arms folded with a frown on my face. "I thought we'd discussed that you were going to start trying to manage your anger?"

"You know," I begin, my tone edged with venom. "I'm getting pretty sick of the fact that's it's always, 'Charlotte, manage your anger', and not 'Hendrix, how about you manage not to piss her off?'."

"You can't expect your environment to always cater to you." She tells me.

"Yeah, yeah, so you've said. Control and discipline and all that." She raises a brow and my brush off. "But when you wave a red flag in front of a bull, it's never the bull that ends up in the shitter, it's the dickwad that aggravated it." I cast a narrowed glance to Hendrix who is sat with his head tilted back, eyes closed.

"Interesting analogy. Perhaps Elijah can help us identify why he does like the aggravate you." She says, turning to him expectantly. He peeks open an eye and waits. "Elijah. Charlotte believes you intend to aggravate her. Can we discuss?"

"Well, that's because I do." He admits quite easily. I scoff in response. "It's called retaliation. It's been happening for years. Charlotte just forgets that she's just as much to blame."

"How am I to blame?" I snap. "You always start -"

"Don't act like you're an innocent bystander." He interjects.

"No interrupting," Miss Hardy tries to remind, but the argument is already ruling the room.

"I might not be innocent Hendrix, but you always take it a step too far!"

"Because I want to win." He groans, shrugging his shoulders as if it's obviously.

"You want to win? What are you, a nine year old?" I snap back.

"Least I'm not an aspiring arsonist, you crazy bitch." He seethes.

"Enough!" Miss Hardy squeals, her timid voice breaking at her forced volume. "We do not insult, nor do we swear, in the counselling room."

I stand with a huff, hoisting my bag on to my shoulder. "We don't do much of anything in this room." Hendrix raises a brow at me but I ignore him, too exhausted to even engage. "I'm going."

"Please sit down Charlotte." She pleads with me.

"For what? I'd rather not subject myself to constant berating. It doesn't bode well for my hair trigger emotions." I deadpan, spinning on my heels before leaving the room. Neither Miss Hardy or Hendrix follow, not that I'd expect either to. This is usually how are sessions go - me storming out in a method of self preservation while the pair of them stay at chat.

I'm sure he's bribing her. It'd explain why she thinks the sun shines out of his arse.

~

Sitting in childcare and development class this afternoon leaves me feeling completely lost. I'd like the blame it on missing this morning's lesson to shower in the girls gym rooms, but I reckon my rather distracted attention is too blame too. I'm unbelievably miserable following counselling, as I am every Monday afternoon. It's fair to say I have a lot of catching up to do.

Frankly, it's never been a lesson I can focus in, considering, for a reason that still to this day I haven't managed to understand, Elijah sits two rows behind me. Me, dreaming to be a child psychologist, it makes sense to endeavour in childhood development. Elijah, whose biggest dream is to be a huge pain in my arse, has no reason to care about the cognitive development of infants.

I'm overcome with relief when the bell chimes, freeing me from the captivity of this class, only to quick be downtrodden when I realise that I'm only being transferred to a difference cell. It's detention.

"Ms Osborne. Mr Hendrix – a word please." Begrudgingly, the pair of us sulk to the teachers desk as the rest of the class funnel out. We stand beside each other, looking down on to the middle aged, greying teacher who gleams up at us. In either hand, she holds out a small, silver USB, one for each of us. "Congratulations. You're having a baby."