Yes & No

Icing on the Mud Pie

Waking up to get ready for school Monday morning was one of the most difficult things I've had to do in a long time. Everything seems so unreal, as if it was all planned like some horrid prank. There was nothing for me to really look forward to, except for confronting Darrel. Confronting him would help me vent a little steam. Actually, a lot of steam.

Entering the school hallway, I silently made my way to the nearest stairs, smiling hello to people I get along with. Saving my frustration for later I ignored the ones I usually cast cold glances to, confidence building like a tower within me. Just as I reached my floor I encountered an obstacle; a pale, upset Becca. I stopped walking and greeted her, realizing that she felt terrible about "something."

"Hey," Becca whispered, her cheeks flushing. "I'm so sorry about Friday night. I had no idea-"

"I know you didn't... You don't get wasted, like ever," I interrupted, not being able to bear the pain of seeing her so broken. I opened my arms and attacked her in a hug. Hugs make the world go round. "Wow, you feel really cold."

"You're really warm," She replied with a laugh, the sound of a smile cracking across her face instantly brightened our moods. Her arms wrapped around me, returning the hug, holding each other close for a healthy five seconds before we breaking away. Becca's eyes were glassy. She began to fan her eyes, desperately trying to dry them away. "Why do I feel like crying? Stupid tear ducts."

"It's healthy to cry. That's why we have bathrooms." I said, smirking at her. She chuckled.

"Thank God for bathrooms." She spoke as I opened the door for her. She walked ahead, her feet speeding in the direction of the nearest bathroom. Some people stared at us, curious as to why Becca was fanning her face. I gave them "the look" to get them to pay attention to their own business. Following Becca into the bathroom, I crashed into Becca's back. Why the hell did she stop walking?

"Did you see Becca kissing the new guy? She was all over him like a fat girl making out with a chocolate bar. Disgusting." A bitter, familiar voice whispered a little too loudly.

"I know, right? I felt so bad, like she ruined the dance for him." Another voice responded. Anger swelled within me, hornets stinging my stomach in rage.

"Talk about attention whore." The voice from before spoke. Two voices laughed low, echoing loud and clear like a yodels from mountain. Oh, they knew the chances of starting an avalanche. I could feel my hands balling into tight fist at my sides. Becca turned to face me, her face displaying the mortification she felt from hearing the gossip, no, news of her drunk make out session with Darrel.

Becca tried to walk past me to exit the bathroom only for me to grab her by the shoulders and shake for her to stare at me. They need to be put into place. Becca paled again, her cheeks reddening with worry.

Not bothering to lock the bathroom door I walked into the heart of the bathroom to find Rebecca Cobblestein and Taylor Smith leaning against the wall near the windows, standing close to each other, lit cigarettes crushed in-between their fingers. It's a good thing I have never liked either of them; Rebecca has this terrible habit of gossiping for attention, being too plain and dull to stand out, while Taylor is the grade snitch, always lying to get what she wants from others. They're both desperate. Of course they get along so well.

"I couldn't help but hear your whispers. They were just so loud. But by now you two should have realized unless you’re deaf. Your mouths are both bizarrely large like fly traps," I commented, their heads lifting in shock to see me walking their way. Both Rebecca and Taylor blanched, their eyes wide like golf balls. "Now, I'm gonna cut to the chase. If I catch either of you talking about Becca again, I'll confront the principal about your smoking habits and hang up maybe a thousand flyers of that "al naturale" pose you, Rebecca, sent to all the guys on the basketball team. Talk about attention whore. “I eyed them with a satisfied grin. Walking forward to snatch their cigarettes, I dropped them the floor, crushing them beneath my right show. Both of them were speechless, standing there like frightened children caught stealing from a cookie jar.