Chapter Two

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Betty took a deep breath and carefully walked through the parking lot. She noticed Veronica's car parked right next to one of the gang members, who had a lighter in one hand and a beer bottle in the other. She watched as he grazed the fire against the bottle, and she shivered at the sight.

Betty was torn. She knew the halftime dance wouldn't be the same without the megaphone, but utter humiliation seemed a lot less frightening than being harassed by four gang members after she kindly tells them to move.

Her legs decided to make the decision for her.

Without much thought, Betty continued to walk through the parking lot, and couldn't bring herself to stop and turn around.

She was a few feet away from the group when all four of them lost focus on what they were doing to look up at her.

She stopped in front of them and dragged her palms down on her skirt to wipe the sweat off.

She carefully examined each one of them in the group as if she couldn't help herself.

They all looked fairly alike.

One was attractive, tall, thin with black hair and a snake tattoo planted on the side of his neck. He was chewing gum and gave her a haunting smile.

One was also attractive, but shorter had black hair and slightly darker skin. He had the cigarette lighter in his mouth, and his foot was resting on the seat of his motorcycle.

The other two looked like they could be brothers. Both looked alike with black hair, similar skin tone, and the two of them were sitting on lawn chairs. Both attractive, and both were staring mischievously at her.

"Well, well, well... what do we have here?" The guy with the snake tattoo on his neck set his glass bottle down and slowly walked towards her. He began to circle her, eyes scanning up and down her as if he was a predator, and she was his prey.

"Oh, knock it off, Sweet Pea," one of them said after he removed the cigarette lighter from his mouth.

"It's a Northside cheerleader," Sweet Pea snarked, and stopped right in front of her. "What can we do for you, princess?" Sweet Pea's eyes darkened as he crossed his arms, waiting for her to speak.

Betty stuttered. "Uh... I... uh..."

He scoffed. "Uh... I... uh..." he said, mocking her. "What the fuck kind of answer is that?" He raised his voice.

"Leave the girl alone," his friend said and took out another cigarette to light it. "Do you need something?" He asked her.

The guy's voice was softer and more pleasant than Sweet Pea's. Betty swallowed, trying to moisten her dry throat and managed a smile. "I just..." she cleared her throat. "I need to get into that car." She pointed at the white Lexus that was sitting right behind the two boys in the lawn chairs.

They all turned around to it, and Sweet Pea chuckled. "No problem, baby girl." He walked over to it and took out an object from his pocket. He opened the object that appeared to resemble a knife.

He took the blade and pressed the sharper end of it to the driver side's door and began to drag it across, leaving a thin white scratch behind.

Betty's heart sank when she saw what he was doing to Veronica's car. She wanted to yell at him to stop, but before she could even react, a loud whistle startled them all, and the four guys looked over at a tall, dark-haired boy leaning against his motorcycle.

Five. There were five of them.

He had a cigarette placed gently between his teeth, and his eyes were fixated on everything but her.

"That's enough."

His voice was low, deep, and firm. He seemed unfazed by what was happening right in front of him as he took a puff of his cigarette, then flicked it off to the side.

If this was any other time, and any other person, her eyes would've traveled with that cigarette and watched it hit the ground.

But this time was different.

Instead, she watched him watch the cigarette fall to the ground. She watched his tongue drag over his bottom lip, and his arms crossed over his chest as his eyes met with hers.

"Come here," he said to her in his stern voice.

She hesitated and exchanged looks with Sweet Pea, who had a defeated look on his face. He backed away from the car and walked back over to his other three friends, and Betty was shocked by how easily he obeyed him.

She turned back to the man who was still leaning against his motorcycle with his arms crossed, but his head was set in the opposite direction of her, and Betty was unsure if he still wanted her to walk over to him.

She slowly took a few steps in his direction and noticed her palm sweat had increased and ran her fingertips over the moisture before wiping it on her skirt again.

Now just inches away from him, Betty stared at his face. She was close enough to him that she knew he could easily see that a girl was standing arm's-length right in front of him, but instead of meeting her eyes, he continued to stare off into the distance.

As if everything around them was more interesting to look at than her.

She waited there anxiously, wondering if she should speak up, but out of all the times she wished she would've kept her mouth shut, why'd her dried lips decide to stay glued together this one time?

He took a toothpick out of his pocket and placed it between his teeth.

He turned his head towards her. Wasn't quite looking at her yet, but it was something.

"That your car?" He asked as he nodded in the direction of Veronica's Lexus.

Betty didn't bother to look in that direction. She just stared blankly at the way his tongue moved the toothpick around in his mouth and shook her head no.

"It's my best friend's. I need to get something out of it."

He furrowed his eyebrows and finally landed his eyes on her.

"So, what are you doing messing with my guys, huh?" His voice was harsh, and Betty's hands tremored.

She felt her mouth numb, and she knew the next words out of her mouth were going to be shaky.

"I-I wasn't..."

She was right; they were.

He broke the toothpick in half with his teeth and spat it out onto the ground. He took a step towards her, and Betty's heart rapidly pounded inside her chest; she almost missed his hand, grabbing her own and yanking the car keys away from her.

He looked back at the four other guys by the car and let out a quick whistle. The four guys proceeded to move out of the way of the car, and Betty watched them.

She turned back to the guy who purposefully dropped her keys in front of her, and before she had time to react, they hit the ground.

"There you go. Now, get the hell out of here," he said, avoiding eye contact with her again and turned to his motorcycle.

Betty bent down and picked up the keys. She stood there, staring at him one last time, hoping he could somehow feel her gaze and would turn around to meet her eyes again, but he didn't.

The dark-haired boy just stood there, unaware of her eyes.

Did he not notice them?

Or maybe he just didn't care that they were there.

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