Zoey's pov
"Why the hell are you going to school? You're sixteen now, you can drop out. That was all you used to talk about," Luke complains, rubbing the sleep out if his eyes.
"Don't worry. I'm just going for today. After that, I'm done with this that he'll hole," I tell him, throwing a bag of Sour Patch Kids into my bookbag.
"Why are you even going in today though?" He asks through a yawn.
"I'm gonna go have a little talk with Riley, Natalia, and Annabelle. Then I'm gonna throw the little shits in prison," I say, not even thinking about my profanities.
Luke grins widely, more awake, "That's my little sister." He kisses the top of my head, then closes the door behind me. I adjust my book bag straps as I walk to the bus stop.
"Hey guys!" I say in a peppy voice, as I wrap my arms around Annabelle and Riley's shoulders. They freeze, their bodies rigid.
"H-how are you alive?" Riley stutters.
"I escaped. Then me and my-, Peyton, found out where the bastards were staying and called the cops," I reminisce with my arch enemies. I'll admit, my victory speech was a little messed up when I stumbled when I was talking about Peyton. But can you really blame me? I mean, I have no idea what we are right now. He kissed me, but he didn't ask me out on a date, or to be his girlfriend, or anything. So are we friends? Or a couple? Relationships are confusing as shit and I'm not even in one. I think.
"But Pete yelled out that you were dead!" Annabelle wails, shoving me away.
"You sound like you know him? Do you?" I ask, trying to keep the smirk off of my face.
"Of course we know them dipshit! We paid them to get rid of you!" Annabelle explodes, punching me in the jaw. I wince, holding my cheek, "Come on, boys."
The three cops I brought with me, led by Andrew, jog up. The shove Annabelle an Riley's arms behind their backs, handcuffing them. The three police officers drag the protesting twins out of the school, ignoring the large crowd of students and teachers, who had gathered to watch.
"Are you okay, Zoey?" Andrew asks, placing a hand on my back.
I nod, "Yeah. Just a little sore."
"Let me see it," he commands. I don't even try to resist. I move my hand down, showing him my jaw.
"It's bruising. But it's not broken. The worst thing is that you'll have the bruise for the next four to five days," he tells me, as we walk out of the school building together.
"Thanks Andrew. But, you know what would make it feel better?" I ask, climbing into the limo.
"What?" He questions, sitting across from me.
I grin widely, "Ice cream."
Andrew chuckles, "I should've known. Hey Walter, can we make a stop at the nearest Dairy Queen?"
"We'll be there in ten minutes," Walter, the driver, assures us, as we pull out of the school parking lot. I grin and high five Andrew.
