Well crap.
I stuff my numbing fingers in the large front pocket of my dark gray hoodie that matches this afternoon’s weather, squinting through the freezing rain and bitter wind to see through the small window built inside of my house door. Of all days to forget my house key, I had to be today; there’s a severe thunderstorm that’s supposed to rage all night, which means I’ll be stuck right in the middle of that unless I can figure out another method of getting in my house. My bus driver’s already long gone; my father has to pay him extra to drive this far out of town to pick me up and drop me off for school, since neither of my parents never have time to take me.
Shivering underneath my soaked clothes, I scan the land for anything I can use to break inside. My house is literally in the middle of nowhere, stuck on the dust-covered area about five miles from a long-since abandoned gas station, which is fifteen miles from town. Woods loom about two miles in the opposite direction, cutting off the road sharply at the opening of it. Why my parents, who are both busy workers in the city who also travel a lot, would buy a small, one-story run down house so far from the rest of society is beyond me, but right now it means I can’t just duck into a neighbor’s house to escape the rain.
When I look down to the mud sinking beneath my light weight, along with a couple of rocks, I get an idea. After a few minutes of digging around in the mud and searching, I free a lone rock that’s slightly bigger than my hand. (Even though my hands aren’t very big, it’s still a decent enough size for what I need it for.) Shivering harder against the gusts of October wind that claw at my drenched body, I jog around to the left side of my house, where there’s a small window that leads into the living room, and take aim carefully, having full intentions on shattering the glass. Even though my mother will definitely yell at me whenever she gets home, I could really care less at this point; I just want to get inside, where it’s warm and dry.
HONK!
The familiar loud, obvious blare of a car horn makes me jump, breaking my concentration and resulting in me dropping the rock. I glare at the ground, watching my potential weapon sink into the mud about halfway, as car doors slam behind me. Unfortunately, I know exactly who’s come for me, even before he grabs the back of my hoodie, yanking me backwards and sending me crashing into the mud sharply.
“Don’t you know it’s rude to ignore guests?” dark brown eyes are suddenly in front of mine, blocking the dark gray clouds from my line of view.
“Get out of my face, you sick bastard,” I snarl in response, having no qualms about shoving away his face with a jerk before stumbling back to my feet.
“You still have no manners, do you?” he just shakes head as a brunette chick I hadn’t noticed before grips at his face, her unfocused eyes sweeping over the red spot of skin I made on his face before her knees nearly cave out from underneath her; she’s obviously drunk.
“Go screw yourself, Lester,” my tone is low and cold as I throw a pointing glance at the drunk girl, “or her. It wouldn’t be that much different, now would it?”
He just chuckles, grinning wickedly. Lester Hawking may be a sick, relentless son of a gun, but he’s still an attractive one. His eyebrows are plucked to frame around his dark brown eyes, his skin is evenly tanned, his cowlick filled dishwater blonde hair compliments his face, and at 6”7, he easily towers over everyone in the school- especially me- and most of the people in this city. He’s also the cliché football star, which means he’s incredibly popular and every girl wants him; the brunette he has with him now is just one of the several girls he’s taken virginity from.
