dum........Duh Duh......DAH DAAAAAAAAAH!
Figgyfan in her first ever chapter as an OFFICIAL member of the Femme Fatale 10!
Scarlet, know-it-all extraordinaire will reveal the inner workings of her mind as the ever wonderful plot thickens.... *suspenseful music*
What awaits beyond these Asterisks?
Well, that is for me to know and you to find out. ;D
"Jake, don't eat those, your mom will fire me." My answer was a grunt as he tried to chew the cookie- cookies that he had been shoving into his mouth for the past five minutes. I picked up the plate and put it on the counter beside the stove then went back to the table. "If your going to pig out and ignore your homework, you might as well just leave," I said sternly putting my hands on my hips and staring him down. He looked at me with his green-blue eyes over the rim of his milk glass and somehow managed to pout while drinking. He swallowed and wiped his arm across his mouth, smearing his mustache.
"I didn't mean to. Mum never gives me cookies, or cake, or ice cream or anything else that isn't green and natural and tasteless." He crossed his arms and looked up defiantly until I raised an eyebrow. Begrudgingly he picked up his pencil and moved his french book in front of him.
"Ah, glasses." I picked them up as I made to sit down in my chair. "You can't risk your eyesight getting worse." He muttered as he took them from my hands.
"Ain't you all prim an' proper, doin' everythin' mummy says? 'Ou ain't got no righ' ta tell me wot ta do." He grumbled as I flicked to the correct page.
"Oh, yeah? Then maybe I'll stop tu'oring you 'n eat my cookies while your grades drop. You know you wou'nt be passin' wif out me." I said, mimicking his cockney accent. His ears, neck and cheeks turned pink, making his freckles pop. I smiled as he started writing out his sentences with a scowl of impatience. I loved his accent even though he hardly ever let it slip anymore.
Jake was originally from somewhere in England. His mother, an American, lived over there for seven years with his father until they got a divorce. Now she was back home with her son and she needed someone to tutor him, partially because he was brilliant, cyber schooled and she didn't have time to work with him with her job at Hickory Collage, and also because his accent was hell on the ears. He didn't want to socialise with other elementary school children and she was afraid he would talk like that forever. I thought it was charming, but who was I to tell her how to raise her child?
"At least use a french accent while we are learning the language." I said, picking up his glass and reading over his Spanish. I could feel his glare on my back and had to fight to keep a strait face. He was a cute kid, probably one of the only people outside my family I talked to on a regular basis. I had to much stuff to do. All my AP classes, my community service activities, my chores and, soon, another job. I pinched the bridge of my nose to relieve some of my stress. Today sucked. First the spaghetti, then the unexpected tutoring-babysitting session. I still had a paper to write on The Sound and the Fury, I book I haven't finished yet. Not to mention my mom and dad will want me to sit and watch the game. Sports were so over rated. Which means they cared about them more than anything else.
"Scarlet." I looked back over my shoulder, putting on a smile.
"Whats the word for today?" Again? He asks me that every time.