Buzzkill (A Lesbian Story)

1: I Hate Mondays

"Max! Wake up!" Mom's voice from downstairs made me jerk awake. The momentum of my awakening made me roll over violently and land harshly on the ground. My mom still called, "Max! You're going to be late!"

I untangled myself from my covers and looked to my alarm clock. 7:47 am. Shit. My first period starts at 8:00. Tripping over my covers, I stumbled to my random pile of clothes on the ground and threw on some jeans and started getting on my combat boots.

"Maxine!"

"Im up, mom!" I slung my backpack over my shoulder and made a b-line to the door. Passing my mirror made me stop and reel back. I looked at my reflection to see that I was not wearing a shirt.

"Motherfucker!" I cursed and grabbed Steve's football jersey off the chair and put it on. I grabbed my phone to put in my pocket, snatched my leather jacket, and did a once over of myself in the mirror. Everything seemed to be here. I ran a hand through my hair and wiped under my eyes to get the remnace of yesterday's eyeliner.

Good enough.

I ran out of my bedroom, slid down the rail of the stairs, and hurried to the kitchen. My mom was standing by the sink, washing dishes. She cocked her head towards a poptart packet and my car keys. "Dont forget that your father and I will be going on a date out of town so you'll be home alone when you get back from the football game."

"I'll probably crash at Steve's." I grabbed my things off the the counter, kissed my mom on the cheek, and raced out the door.

I could already tell that this day was going to be sucky. Monday's fucking suck.

***

"I want to stick my head into this locker and slam it." I told Steve. It was 7:55 when I rolled up to school. Steve was waiting for me in the parking spot by me. He bought me a peppermint mocha latte and I almost cried when he showed it to me. I still would like to die, however. I set my forehead down on the cool metal and waved the door to the locker. "Just do it, Stevie. Please. I beg of you!"

Steve just laughed it off and pulled me up. "Now. Now. It's just that Monday feel. Also that hungover feel."

I shook my head with a groan. "God. Don't remind me. I'm never going to drink with you ever again."

"You say that to me every time." He reminded me. A group of a few freshmen girls walked by. Steve gave them his award-winning, quarterback, Steve Cozark smile. This motherfucker. I love him, though. We've been best friends since forever and people either think we're siblings, or dating. Even though we have the same athletic build and sandy hair, we are not siblings. Even though I basically hang off his arm everyday, I am a flaming homosexual.

"I also just don't want to be here today." I shut my locker and sipped my coffee. "I just know that its going to go downhill today, Stevieboy."

"Is this because of the pep rally?" He asked.

Shit. The pep rally. Almost forgot about that evil event. Don't know how I could've forgot. I mean Steve was wearing his footbally jersey and I was wearing his away jersey.

This is why people think we're dating.

Steve then rose an eyebrow. "Or are you pissy due to who is going to be in the pep rally?"

Hoe don't do it. "Why do you immediately assume it's because of her?"

Steve put his free hand in his pocket and shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's because you're still not over it. Not over her."

Oh my god. "It's not like we dated, Steve. She left us for the bitch squad and now acts like one of them."

The head bitch who we were talking about was Ashley Anderson. She was the third point in our Lars, Cozark, Anderson friendship triangle. All of us were so tight. Around eighth grade, Ashley started acting weird. It was after she got her braces off and her acne cleared up when she joined the cheer squad. She left us in the dust and became the head bitch. Apparently Steve still talks to her and enjoys her company. I don't talk to her unless I absolutely have to because she treats me like shit.

"She's not all bad, Max." Steve sighed.

I shook my head and started walking to my class. "Bullshit."

***

Lunches during a pep rally day were as bad, if not worse, than the pep rallies themselves. All day, classes haven't been doing shit because of the hype for the pep rally. Now, with the rally being only 30 minutes away, the teens are beginning to go ape shit. Today seemed to be a little bit more crazy, but yet also less. There's some kind of flu going around and some kids are out and the flu scare is sending some people into a tizzy.

"I fucking hate people." I roll my eyes at a table of laughing and lolligaggin football players. A flying tater tot almost made me spill my tray.

"Watch you language, Max." Steve warned me and jerked his head towards a teacher rushing to the football table of mayhem. "Craft will bust you for your potty mouth."

Coach Craft was a middle aged coach that always seemed to find ways to get me in trouble. If I did anything that broke the rules, even just a little bit, she was the one to catch me. She caught me skipping gym class, throwing a paper wad at Steve, rearranging my math teacher's room, and even sneaking off with Elena Rochester to make out in the bathroom. Craft was always there. Always over my shoulder, screaming at me through her bullhorn that she's always a little bit too trigger happy about using.

"Pfffttt. Like I give a shit about Craft." I shook my head and then waved my hand around the lunchroom. "Plus she has more problems to worry about. It's not like I'm starting a food fight or someth-"

A foot connected with mine and, since I'm not the most graceful person, I fell to the ground. My tray flipped over and spilled my spaghetti on the front of myself. Above me were female laughs. I looked over at the foot that tripped me. It was a white tennis shoe, tan leg, blue and black cheer skirt, blue and black cheer top, and blonde hair. Vanessa Roberts: co captain of the cheer squad and second in command bitch.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" An angry voice came from across Vanessa and by my head. I looked up to see Ashley. She was basically a copy of Vanessa, except for her lighter complexion and black hair. On her white shoes was some of my spaghetti sauce.

Laughter overcame me as I got back on my feet and picked the noodles off my my jeans. Ashley just looked up at me with pure anger. Grabbing her salad, she stood and dumped the vinegarette covered lettuce on my head.

My laughter ceased. "What the fuck?" I pointed to her shoes. "That was a fucking accident!"

She only shrugged. "Oops."

Growling, I picked up a handful of spaghetti from Steve's tray and slung it at her top. She took some other cheerleader's yogurt and dumped it on my head. I grabbed Steve's cake and smashed it on her head in return.

"Not my cake!" Steve exclaimed.

It was too late. Ashley screamed in frustration as she took the cake tray off her head and threw back at me. She wiped off a bit of cake and flicked it at me. "You fucking bitch!"

"You and your bitches started this!" I yelled back.

The noise of a screeching bullhorn made us stop to cover our ears. The screeching stopped and a booming voice echoed. "Lars! Anderson! My office!"

***
Author's Note: I don't think that there are enough zombie stories out there with a lesbian romance mixed into it. So, you're welcome. Also I accidentally deleted this first chapter so I had to rewrite, but it's better than the first time I wrote it so that's good.