Hey guys! I know this chapter is super long. Tell me what you guys think please! I want feedback :) if this story is rubbish, I'll put it on hold but if you guys like it I'll keep going. Vote, comment, message me, etc!! The picture is of Sydney. Mean Girls <3 anyway I'll be posting Part 2 soon, maybe even today. Enjoy :)
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Dakota's POV
"OH YEAH THE CABS ARE HERE CABS ARE HERE GET UP TAXIS SONO QUI SONO QUI!" Blake screams, jumping up and down on my bed like a 5 year old with a sugar rush.
"BLAKE CARTER PARKER! GET OFF MY BED THIS INSTANT!" I screeched back, using the voice I pull out when Sirius has done something bad. Blake pouts but slips off my bed.
"Well get up any way. It's already 5 and Ezra is going to blow a fuse if you're late again. I've already let Sirius out and breakfast is on the table...." He looks at me expectantly, "this is the part where you fall to the ground, kissing my feet."
"The day I do that is the day Sirius flies." I respond, smirking at his suddenly sour expression. He glares at me and grabs a hold of my comforter.
"You wouldn't." I hiss at him, narrowing my eyes.
"TE LEVANTAS!" He shouts, yanking my purple and black comforter off me in one huge movement. He glances at me and bolts.
"Tienes miedo. TIENES MUCHO MIEDO!" I growl, not loudly but his giggles confirm that he heard. I groan and fall back on my pillows. I don't want to get up. I don't want to deal with all of today's shiz. All of my teachers have decided to test our knowledge on the same day. Quizzes and tests in every class and I wouldn't be surprised if Ezra has something crappy for us in Music Theory as well.
Stupid Music Theory. I took the class thinking that i would learn about writing and composing music but instead all we've been doing is singing solos. And stupid Phoenix for that matter. Confusing me with his bipolar attitude. One minute he's sweet and flirty and the next he's letting that skank Sydney stick her STD-covered tongue down his throat. Um, EW.
Ugh, and to top it all off, I believe we're doing time trials today at swim practice. Most of the kids love them. Me? I want them to die in a little hole next to Justin Beiber and black gum balls. Yeah. Those things are nasty. What flavor is that even supposed to be? Death? Great, I'm eating death flavored candy. But I digress.
I roll out of bed slowly, savoring the cool feeling of being suspended as first my shoulders, then each vertabrae in my back, and then my hips slide over the edge of the bed. Then I land in a heap on the floor with a loud THUMP. Shiz now crazy old Mrs. Creevey is going to be banging on the ceiling telling me to shut up again. Stupid old bat.
I force my creaking bones into a semi-upright position. Holy bejeezus I feel like I've been run over by a herd of pissed off wildebeasts in football cleats. Why am I so bloody sore? Oh right. I got tackled by 160 pounds of lean Phoenix muscle yesterday. Ow. For a skinny fit boy he certainly weighs a TON. I rub my aching shoulders and head into the kitchen.
True to his word, Blake has set one of my red ceramic bowls and a spoon out for me. A box of my favorite cereal (Cap'n Crunch Berries for you noobs out there who haven't yet discovered it's magical-ness) is chilling next to the bowl, along with 2 strawberry poptarts and an orange Gatorade. My usual apple is sitting forgotten behind the jug of milk, because I'm a super healthy person like that.
I sit down and begin bolting down my food. I have 10 minutes to be at practice. Blake watches me eat with disgust warping his usually handsome face.
