Cat Life (Life Shots)

Tall, handsome, green eyes...blue hair.

Date: February 17 20XX
Location: Whitewater High, Toronto
Time: 12:26 PM (EST)
POV: Cookie

Kalie: haha lol where u at kitty kat???!
Me: walking to lockers lol, cya in a bit <3
Kalie: ahaha lmao cya cya bestie

     She sends a picture of a cat doing the victory sign thing with its paws. It's just so cute, I almost sigh in adoration. I swear to god, Kalie always sends the cutest pictures. I wonder sometimes where she finds these snaps, not even the internet has these. Sometimes. But sometimes, the internet has the hottest pics. It's kind of a tradition to hang out at Kalie's place, scrolling through the image search results of "hottest teen guys" and rating each guy out of 10, saying what we like and hate most about their appearances. I don't know why, but I find dyed hair so appealing, especially striking colours such as green, yellow, blue, red, etc. Unlike Kalie, who only likes natural-looking guys. 
     Before I know it, I'm thrown to the floor as I accidentally bump into somebody in the way. My phone goes flying through the air and lands face up on the tile floor, the cat photo from Kalie on display for the whole hallway to see. My head throbs painfully, where the impact was most. Rubbing my head, I look up to see that my assaulter is none other than the school's bully (and handsomest boy) Rage Timber. 
     

     Okay, before we proceed with the story, I just want to say, it's been so long since I've heard people actually calling him anything but his real name. It's not actually Rage, but the last time the teacher called him his name was in kindergarten. I don't know why the teachers agree to call him that. Maybe it's because he looks super threatening when he's mad. Or maybe because he pays them. I've heard he's really rich, but he's told me nothing because since the first time we've met (in kindergarten), he's always hated me for some reason. I did absolutely nothing on the first day of kindie and Rage and his stupid-ass friends threw Lego at me the whole time. I guess I tried to ask him why as I cried and all he replied was, "You're stupid." And he and his thugs laughed at me after that, calling me stupid and shit. And every year after that, he's always been put in my class and every year it's been the same crap. Same bullying. Same harassment.
     And if you want to know how he looks, well, he's a 5'11'' German dude with vivid green eyes, electric blue shaggy hair (totes my type, too bad he's a jerk), and a delicious hint of a Euro-accent. And he's cool too. His clothing style is amazing, must be all that cash his family's rolling in. I always see fancy logos on his clothes. But he's scary too. When those emerald eyes of his fall on you, it always feels like he knows what I'm thinking, like he's reading my mind. And sometimes he even says stuff related to what I'm thinking. It's unnerving.

     "Oh, it's you." His low voice snaps me out of my daze. I stare at him dumbly for a second. Then I find my voice, and what comes out is totally embarrassing.
"Aaaah I'm sorry for bumping into you-." My voice doesn't sound like me. It's too high-pitched. Then Rage's eyes fall onto my eyes, and there's a slight change in his irritated emotion, more like confused now. I gaze back at him without really knowing what I'm doing. His eyes really are dreamy. Then he blinks and the spell is broken. I blink too, but suddenly my phone is in his hand. He's sneering at what is displayed on it. "Well, look at that," says one of his thug friends, peering at the screen from behind Rage's back. "The cat is so vain, she's looking at pictures of HERSELF!"
Rage snatches the phone from him, mischief twinkling in his eyes.
"Damn, she is!" he crows in his German accent. His gang gathers around him to see the picture, which he shows them with pleasure. Ugh, this is so embarrassing. I try to speak up and ask them to give me my phone back and stop harassing me in the middle of the hallway, but my voice seems to have disappeared along with my phone. Dammit.
"Uh, m-my phone, plea-." My voice cuts out, and my face heats up. Crap, I must be as red as a tomato. But Rage's eyes flick to me as if he actually heard me. Like I said, he kind of seems to know what's going on in my head sometimes. For a second I think he's going to relent and give me my phone back because something in his hard gaze softens, but then in a second, it hardens up again and he sneers. "Now why don't we post this on some cringe social media site Cat here probably uses?" His thugs laugh, making me flush with even more heat. By now, the whole hallway is staring at us, even the older kids. The words Rage drops next enrages me even more (haha, get it? Rage, enraged?) 
"I dunno, she seems like a Facebook user to me. Who here's mom has a Facebook account? We can use that."
Now he's done it. "I do not use cringe social media sites, especially Facebook," I say in a deadly quiet voice and everyone goes silent, heads turned to me. "Facebook is for 30 year old moms who look at minion memes. AND I DO NOT LOOK AT MINION MEMES! I LOOK AT CULTURED MEMES!!!!" 
I remember flying at Rage after those words and making him bleed somewhere, but I don't really recall the exact details. All I know is that I've hurt him, and that's good enough for me. I'm satisfied with whatever pain I've caused him. Bleeding is enough. It's severe enough for whatever shit he's done to me this year, alright. 

I think.