The Stereotypes Project (UNDER MAJOR EDITING)

6. The Punxters.

Clutching my toes, I mumbled a few colorful words. Why did I do that anyway? I shouldn't even care about who he hangs out with. He probably wrote that note so I would come here and see him parading around with a popular girl (who is also dating my brother I might add).And then just nonchalantly asked me if I wanted lunch! Seriously? I bet if I had accepted, I would be standing like a fool as he stood me up right now. (I was planning to, actually, but the death threat note was scaring me. They promised pretty hurtful consequences if I didn't show up. Yes, I did thought it was Parker who wrote the note, but hey, that was before I thought that, okay? I contradict myself really bad sometimes.) But anyways, if he thought I would crumble in pain because of his little trick, he was wrong. (Ok maybe he was right, considering I am writhing because of my broken toes. Maybe not broken, but still.) I never cared much for him anyway. So he can hang around with Madison Avery or other types of annoying brainless girls all he wants, because I am gonna hang out with cool punk rock people.

But still, the fact that I just lost my first friend besides Darla from my mom's knitting club hurted.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps coming towards me. Quickly, I stood up, brushed the dirt from my clothes and casually stood up and whipped out my phone like I meant to stand here and do cool stuff all the time. I leaned against the wall, crossed my arms in a supposedly menacing way and stared down at my very interesting home screen.

"Ah hem."

Remember how earlier I said there were no evil cliques where I was? Well, now there is.

A group of four people that looked like they could be in a motorcycle gang stood in front of me, in all their leather jackets and spiked belts glory. Compared to them, my outfit looked like a wannabe rock-band groupie. Great.

A lanky guy with a denim vest and a red mohawk, who had an air of arrogance around him that confirmed that he was indeed the leader of the group, spoke first in a rugged voice that sounded like he had too much to smoke.

"So, I'm guessing you got our note."

The guy smirked, and seized me up. The girl behind him with fire-engine-red hair and really thick bangs just looked bored and examined her cuticles. Another with bright pouffy pink hair which incredibly resembles cotton candy and too much purple eyeshadow glared at me, and despite her Hello Kitty slash Raccoon look, sent chills down my spine. The last guy, which had to be at least 2 feet tall with a black bandanna, seemed slightly chubby and the only one smiling brightly at me in the group (I wasn't going to smile back at a potential murderer though. He could be smiling at the thought of my head hanging in his living room for all I know). And all of them, I noticed, had a cloth with the symbol from the note, tied around Mohawk's arm, on both the girls' hair serving as headbands, and around Bandanna guy's ankle. Okay, what had I gotten myself into?

Hello Kitty - Raccoon girl spoke in a high-pitched voice, twirling her hair in the process. The pink was so bright that I literally felt my eyes watering from looking at it. (The tears could be because I was peeing myself with fear, though. But still, I wonder what brand of dye she uses? How many times did she bleach her hair? How does she keep it so fluffy? I'll stop now.)

"We are the Punxters, and we noticed your change today-"

"Punksters? Like P-U-N-K-S-T-E-R-S? Sorry, I have to get the spelling right, I'm writing a book about my adventures to post on Wattpad."

I interrupted, grinning brightly at them. What? Spelling is important.

HK-R (can we just call her that?) snapped her gum and rolled her eyes, annoyed, then continued. Redhead just mumbled something and went back to examining her nails.