|| [A/N] — This is a product of my procrastination. I actually finished this chapter after four days of delaying it and staring at the blank Ms Word as if it was an art piece I needed to scrutinize. This chapter is just a filler (sort of) and maybe not as great as I expected it to be—but the next chapter will be better. Writing mojo, I will find you and claim you!

Enjoy (: || 

x x x x x


"Woah, that's small."

"Just grab it!"

"Alright! Sheesh!"

"Put it in your mouth."

"What?"

"Put it between your lips and blow!"

I scrunched my nose in disgust. "That's what he said." Greyson shot me a look and I sluggishly place the whistle between my lips and started gusting air on the object. He grinned and started playing rhythmic patterns on the small keyboard.

And.... pause.

You are probably wondering: Okay, what is going on?

If you ever thought we were doing the bomb diggity, then grab the nearest Bible out there and cleanse your soul.

Let us rewind everything and start from the very beginning:

The past few days went by like a blur. I am grateful that I can no longer go in detention because spending two hours staring at nothing can be pretty boring. Unless, Harrison is present and you're plotting ways to slap him with a steel chair covered with spikes. I haven't gotten the chance to do it though. Mr. Bruce's hawk eyes and laser vision scares the beejezus out of me.

I checked my phone for messages and threw it on my bed when I saw none. Today is Saturday, meaning I have a time to hang out with my own self. Just as I was about to plop on my bed to watch some movies in Netflix, the door to my room swung open and I screeched in surprise.

"What the hell?!" I yelped, throwing multiple pillows at the intruders. "Can't anyone of you read the damn sign?!"

Morgan snorted and threw the pillow back at me. "We're not Leonardo DiCaprio but we're friends."

"Yeah, that's the point and I know I made it clear," I narrowed my eyes at all of the girls in my room, "Only Leo can get inside my room without knocking!"

Alexa ignored my outrage and threw a dress at me. "Wear it, loser. We're going shopping."

"Did you just quote the Mean Girls?"

"Obviously, not."

I groaned. "Don't get me wrong, I love you guys, but what are you doing here? Don't y'all have some things to do? Like, Keisha," Keisha look at me with her eyebrows raised, "don't you have cheerleading practice with Morgan? Angela has some library duties. And Alexa, I don't know 'bout you but I'm feeling twenty two—"

"Funny." Keisha interjected. "Just go get dress, [Yn]. We're going to have some girls' day."

Grumbling under my breath, I snatched the dress and stalked towards my bathroom. Looking at my appearance in the mirror, my eyes widened at how much of a zombie I look. My hair is sticking out in all places—from North, South, West, East—you name it. I cringe at the sight of a little dried dribble on the corner of my lip and I hastily washed my face.

Stalling some more time, I ogle in abhorrence at the little pimples on my forehead. "Hello, this is not a free land. At least pay me some rent, for Pete's sake." I mumbled as I touched the pimple and grabbed the concealer from the cabinets.

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