Chapter Fourteen
You will like this chapter-hopefully! It's SUNDAY!
☮Montana☮
“Wake up Montana!”
My head still groggy, I groaned, and shoved two of my purple heart-shaped cushions onto my ears. I buried my head deep into my pillow, shoving the cushions onto my ears even more.
“Montana, wake the hell up!”
“Go away!” I moaned, thrusting my head into the pillow even deeper-if that was even possible.
“C’mon Montana,” I eventually recognised that it was Skyler’s voice. “You need to get up! Otherwise, you’ll be late from your little get together with your ‘family’.”
I growled. “NEVER refer to Sam and that little Marcus brat as my family! Unless you wanna get your head wrenched off your body, or wanna be stabbed in the eye-I strongly suggest you refrain from doing that.”
Skyler cheered. “You’re up. Good, now get your ass out of bed.”
I didn’t even want to think about today. It was Sunday. Sunday. I used to love Sundays. You know, before the whole stupid project came into my life. I used to either go shopping with Jodie, hang out at a smoothie café with some friends, chill out in our swimming pool, or if it was a rainy day, I’d just stay holed up in the living room, surrounded by pillows, popcorn, Coke and movies. Yeah, well those were the days. Sunday was my favourite day of the week. Now I can’t do those things anymore. Now I have to spend my favourite day of the week with the brat and the beast.
“Skyler, be a nice sister, and tell Sam I can’t make it?” I questioned, peering out of the duvet, sweetly blinking my eyes-going for the whole innocent puppy dog look.
Skyler rolled her eyes. “Monty, your innocent puppy dog face looks like you ate a bad burrito. C’mon, Dad’s made some of his mouth-watering French toast and their going down fast...”
Aw, poo. Seth’s French toasts were the freaking best. Sneaky devils.
“Screw you,’ I snapped. “To think you were on my side.’
Skyler laughed, prancing out of my bedroom. “Love you too!’
I moaned loudly, and forced myself to climb out of bed. Unfortunately, my legs got tangled up in the doona, so I face-dived into the floor. All the pillows that I’d been holding fell after me, bopping me in the head. Then the doona decided to join the party, and collapsed on top of me.
I sighed. It was going to be a VERY long day.
★★★http://media-cache-ec3.pinimg.com/192x/7f/d9/5a/7fd95a0c4e61734936c9afc34e0f7bfd.jpg
After making my bed and arranging the pillows carefully (I like my arrangements-alright?), I shuffled into my bathroom (Yeah, it’s my own bathroom. Which meant I could do whatever I wanted to it. So I decided to make it underwater theme, and tacked plastic fishes to pieces of string and hung them up on the wall, painted the walls, ceiling and floor different shades of blue {I painted it all by myself-can I say proudly}, and put plastic coral everywhere. Yep, my bathroom’s preeeeeeeetty special).
I took a refreshing shower, washing my hair with Luscious Lemon Shampoo and Outstanding Orange Conditioner. Yeah, I’m pretty fruity. I changed into a plain navy blue singlet and a pair of grey shorts, and while drying my hair, looked into my wardrobe. What should I wear to the flipping catch-up thingo?
In the end, I just decided on a navy blue/black/grey plaid thin button-down shirt, a pair of jeans and grey flats.
I straightened my hair, and twisted it into a side plait, then grabbed my light tan handbag, thundering downstairs.
“Where’s the French toast?” I boomed, sliding into the kitchen.
I glanced up, to see Skyler sitting at the kitchen bench, chomping on some strawberry yoghurt and Seth reading the local newspaper, sipping a cup of coffee. Those sneaky devils were HIDING the French toast from me? Huh!
I chuckled, slapping my handbag on the kitchen counter. “Haha, nice joke guys. Now hand the French toast over!”
Seth raised an eyebrow, looking confused. “Uh, don’t know what you are talking about. But anyway, you gotta go soon Montana! Otherwise you’ll be late. And we certainly don’t want that.’
Confusion took over me. What?
Skyler slid off her seat, taking her yoghurt and cup of milk with her. She strode past me, an amused look on her face. Just as she passed me, she whispered in my ear “There wasn’t any French toast by the way. I’m clever huh?”. And with that, she strode out of the kitchen-most probably going to finish her breakfast in front of the TV, most probably watching How I Met Your Mother or something like that.
I glared after her, imagining I was burning holes in her back.
“So what are the arrangements?” Seth asked.
“For what?” I questioned, striding over to the fridge, grabbing an Up & Go Strawberry Flavour.
Seth rolled his eyes. “The arrangements for today.”
I forced the straw into the box, sighing. “Well, we arranged that we’d meet at Crane Park and Marcus’s Mum is going to drop him off there.”
Seth raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were heading to Kids Palace?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, that’s what I wanted and what we were originally doing-until Sam called up saying he’s ‘allergic’ to too many kids in the same room. Lame excuse, let me tell you.”
Seth chuckled. “Wow. Well you’d better go now. How are you going to get to the park?”
“Um, I’ll walk, it’s not far,” I shrugged, before glugging down the strawberry milk down.
Seth nodded. “Well, have fun. I’m going to the gym. You know, after pigging out the last few nights on food. Gonna try go on a diet.”
I snorted. “You? On a diet? Pfft.”
Seth raised an eyebrow, looking amused. “What, don’t think I can go on a diet?”
“How long do you think you’ll last?’ I chuckled. “What, 2 hours max?”
Seth chuckled, joining in with me. “Damn, hate to agree with you-but I think your right. I really need to learn to manage my impulsivity. Do you think there are classes for that?”
I grinned, sipping the last bits of my milk. “Highly doubt that.”
Seth saluted me, striding out of the kitchen. “Have fun with your ‘family’ cupcake!”
I rolled my eyes. Ugh, don’t remind me.
I tossed my milk carton into the bin, and decided it was time to leave. Unfortunately. I mean, I could easily just stand them up and skip it, and just stay home and watch Modern Family-but I didn’t want to flunk the class. And no doubt Sam would dob me into Miss Applegate. And didn’t Miss Applegate have ‘spies’?
I told Mum I was leaving, and left the house. I pulled out my iPhone out, and plugged my ear buds into my ears, tapping on Still into You by Paramore. Damn, that song was a song of the century.
“And baby, even on our worst nights,’ I sang, adding a little hop in my step. “I’m into you, I’m into you. Let them wonder how we go this far, cuz’ I don’t really need to wonder how, at all, after all this time. I’m still into you.”
I eventually reached the park, and trudged to the giant maple tree, where we all agreed to meet. I spotted Sam leaning against the trunk of the tree, on his phone.
Rolling my eyes, I strode up to him, dislodging my ear buds from my ears, wrapping them up with my iPhone and stuffed them into my pocket.
“I’m here,” I snapped.
Sam glanced up from where he was playing Tetris, and rolled his eyes. “Joy. Look, I’m just as depressed as you are about the whole Sunday thing-alright? Just to get that clear.’
“Feeling’s mutual,” I smiled, fakely.
Sam rolled his eyes, slipping his phone in his hoodie pocket. “Immature imbecile.”
My mouth fell open. Did he just call me immature? HE? Out of all people?
“That’s pretty big coming from you,” I shot back, glaring at him, fuming.
“Princess, my vocabulary is much bigger than your tiny one,” Sam snapped back.
“What does decalescence mean?” I snapped. I didn’t even know what it meant-I’d just heard my smart-ass cousin, Isaac say it before.
Sam raised an eyebrow. “You dunno what it means either, don’t you?”
Damn. I cleared my throat, straightening myself. “I do in FACT know what it means! It means uh, it means, er well, there’s um, quite a few different meanings.”
Sam smirked at me. “Say one of them.”
Crap. I racked my brain for a suitable meaning. Food? No. Piece of clothing? No. Name for a job? No.
“It means, getting very impatient wiiith someone,” I blurted out.
Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Right. That and I’m not incredibly hot and smart.”
Jerk!
“You aren’t though,” I shot back, narrowing my eyes. TRY TALK BACK TO THAT SAM TAYLOR!
Before Sam could come up with some snappy comeback, we were interrupted by a middle-aged brown-haired woman, clutching Marcus by the hand. She smiled thinly at us.
“Excuse me, but are you two Sam Taylor and Montana Crew?’ she questioned.
I quickly replaced my fuming frown with a happy smile. “Yes. Yes we are. And you must be Mrs Montgomery. I’m Montana, it’s really nice to meet you!”
I offered my hand, and she shook it really quickly, before taking her hand back like I had some disease.
“Well, look after Marcus,” she told us, like we were little 6-year-olds waiting for instructions. “Make sure he talks to no strangers. Make sure he’s never alone without you two. I’ve fed him breakfast, but you must take him for lunch. Please don’t take him for those grotty, greasy fast food restaurants like McDonalds and Nando’s, take him to a health food store.”
Wow, this suddenly had been turned into a babysitting job. I quickly snuck a glance at Sam, and saw that he looked kinda stunned as well. Wow, how did Marcus survive this monster of a mother?
“We’ll take good care of him, don’t worry,” I smiled, fakely.
Mrs Montgomery sniffed, pointing her nose down at us. “Hmph, you better. To me, this project sounds completely rubbish and irresponsible.”
I mentally high-fived her. Not sure if she’d high-five back-but still. At least someone (apart from Jodie and Sam) agreed this project was utter crap.
“Well, I assume you’ve got somewhere to be, so um, you can go, we’ll take good care of your son,” Sam said, politely.
Mrs Montgomery adjusted the strap of her black handbag on her shoulder. “Yes, I have a business corporate meeting. Well, have fun Marcus dear.”
She plonked a giant, sloppy, red-lipsticked kiss on Marcus’ forehead, and Marcus peeped out from behind her, looking thoroughly embarrassed. I actually kinda felt a little sorry for him.
“Take good care of him,” she said, snippily. “Ta-ta! I’ll come back to pick him up at this exact spot at 5pm on the dot!”
She strutted away, in her 5-inch heels, making a giant clacking noise.
“Talk about a Motherzilla there,’ I sighed, to myself.
“So what are we gonna do?’ Sam sighed, looking bored.
“Can I go on the playground over there?” Marcus questioned, pointing to the children’s wooden playground, several metres from where we were standing.
I sighed. “Sure kid. Go have fun.”
Marcus’s face lit up, and he dashed away from us. No guess that Motherzilla usually didn’t let him play on the playground.
I sighed again for the hundredth time that day, and slid down the trunk of the tree, landing on the grass on my butt. I took out my iPhone and tapped on Messages, scrolling down to see if I had any new messages.
“You know, we’re supposed to be interacting with each other,” sighed Sam, sounding exasperated.
I raised an eyebrow, glancing up. “I would’ve thought you wouldn’t care about this project.”
Sam shrugged, his hands in his pockets. “This is the only subject where you don’t have to do work. I don’t think I wanna flunk this subject.”
True.
I sighed, and chucked my iPhone back into my pocket, and scrambled to my feet. “Okay fine. As long as we both cooperate-and Marcus-, we have a chance of getting an A for this subject.”
“Well what do we do? The kid’s playing on the playground,” Sam said, plopping down on the grass opposite me.
Suddenly, I spotted some freshman peeking out from behind a tree, clutching binoculars, peeping through them at us. OMG. Miss Applegate really did have spies!
“Crap, we have a spy,’ I said, tightly, keeping my eyes levelled on the ground.
Sam started to turn. “Where?”
I grabbed him, twisting him back around. “No! Don’t look! Just pretend we’re engaging in a conversation!”
I realised a few seconds later my hand was still stuck on his arm. I quickly yanked it away, swallowing. Ooh, awkward.
I looked up again to see the freshman still watching us-while stuffing his mouth full of potato chips. Looked like he wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.
“Look, the stupid freshman’s watching,” I whispered. “Let’s just start talking, so we can get a good grade okay?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Fine. What do you wanna talk about.”
I chewed my lip, an idea immediately popping up in my head. Screw it if he got sensitive. I was curious.
“Look, you know Rochelle,’ I said, carefully. “She left, and I remember very well you being all depressed and that crap. You wouldn’t come out of your room, and your curtains always remained closed. When we had family gatherings, you would either stay in your room or you would just stay in the corner, alone. But now, you’re going around, hanging out with her. Why?”
Sam glanced down, playing with the grass. “It’s none of your business.”
I rolled my eyes. I knew I was going to get that sooner or later. “Look, I’m just curious. If it’s that sensitive to you-you don’t have to elaborate. I’m just-
“Curious, I heard you the first time,” Sam cut in, glaring darkly at me.
“Look, I’m trying to be careful and nice with you, but you just shoot me down and act like a jerk!” I snapped, clenching my fists. “Can you just stop being a total jackass for one second?”
Sam rolled his eyes, and looked at the distance, ignoring me. I gritted my teeth, and turned away too. If he was going to act like that-fine, I was gonna too. I was sick of trying to be the peacemaker and trying to be nice and polite to him.
After several minutes had ticked past, I heard him clear his throat. Then he coughed. Then he cleared his throat. I wouldn’t budge. I firmly planted my butt there, keeping my back to him.
“Damn woman, I’m trying to get your attention here!” Sam frowned, when I finally turned to face him. “Thank you! Look, I know you hate me and I hate you-but can we put our differences behind us and just cooperate so that we get a good mark. I looked subtly behind me, and the freshman looks like he’s writing bad crap about us. I could easily threaten him to write good stuff-but I really cannot be bothered turning on the scary act.”
I pursed my lips. “Number one, you have a scary act? Number two, wow finally-you are finally taking the initiative and doing something about this.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Pick a subject and let’s talk about it.”
“Cheese,” I said, automatically-since that was the first thing that came to mind.
Sam looked at me, bitterly. “Cheese? Wow, your weirder than I thought.”
I glared at him, defiantly. “You said pick a subject-and I did. Deal with it and quit acting like some whiny kid.”
Sam groaned. “Fine. Uh...what’s...your favourite cheese?’
“Parmesan cheese,” I said, automatically, grinning.
Sam wrinkled his nose. “Parmesan cheese? What the hell is that?”
My jaw dropped open. How can ANYONE NOT know what parmesan cheese is? That’s just crazy! Psychotic! But Sam is those things-after all. But still.
“You don’t know what parmesan cheese is? You’re more mentally-damaged in the brain than I thought you were.”
“Your calling me mentally-damaged in the brain? You’re the one who thought I was a crazy murderer and thought I was going to kill you!”
“Well, you did have a psychotic look on your face!”
“You PERMANENTLY have a psychotic look on your face.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Crew.”
“Listen, Taylor, stop turning everything I say politely into a fight alright?” I sighed, exasperated. “You’re telling me you want to get a good grade, but then you’re turning every conversation into a fight.”
Sam shrugged. “Fine whatever.’
I sighed, relieved. “Alright, what’s your favourite cheese?”
Sam thought for a moment, before answering, “I guess blue cheese.”
I scrunched up my face in disgust. “Ew the one that look like it has mould all over it? Gross...”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “I thought we agreed on no judging?”
“We agreed we wouldn’t turn everything into a fight. We didn’t say anything about judging-genius.”
Sam smirked. “Ah look. Hypocrite much?”
“I was just being sarcastic! I was turning the conversation into a fight!’
“Sure.’
‘Seriously!”
“And my Mum’s Santa Claus.”
“You are a REALLY sarcastic person-you know that right?”
“Right back at ‘ya.’
“I’m not as sarcastic as you.”
“Riiiiight.”
“Don’t you dare make another sarcastic remark!”
“I think we broke our little promise about not turning the conversation into a fight.”
“SO your fault.”
“MY fault?”
“Yep.’
“How the hell is it MY fault?”
“You started being sarcastic.”
“Yeah, so?”
Before I could reply back, we realised Marcus was standing right in front of us, watching us, amused.
“Woah, since when did the kid come back?” Sam cried, noticing Marcus at the same time as I did.
“We were probably too busy arguing to notice him,” I gave Sam a meaningful look-which he glared back.
“And that argument was not my fault!”
“Hell freaking yeah it was!”
“HOW?”
“Because you used sar-
“STOP!”
Sam and I froze, both glancing at Marcus. He had his arms out, and was looking really distraught and upset.
“Stop fighting!” he cried. “Just stop it okay? I’m SICK of you people fighting all the time! My daddy and mummy started fighting and then they split up and daddy left me. He never said goodbye. And mummy never has time for me. She’s always at work. I wasn’t really looking forward to this project-but then I thought that maybe I could get a new mummy and daddy and they would be nice and we could be a proper family. But you two are always fighting! You never pay attention to me! You just fight and fight! Mummies and Daddies aren’t supposed to fight! If they do-they split up. And I don’t want my second daddy and second mummy to split up like my first mummy and daddy did.”
I chewed my lip, feeling really guilty and ashamed of myself. I glanced in Sam’s direction and saw that he actually looked pretty ashamed of himself as well, and was keeping his gaze on the ground.
His Mum and Dad divorced? With him at such a young age-that would probably be really hard and tough on him. I couldn’t imagine Mum and Seth divorcing. They were like Mickey Mouse and Minnie Mouse. Aladdin and Jasmine. Beauty and the Beast (all Disney characters-nice). They just belonged together. I guess that’s what Marcus thought about his parents-before they started fighting.
And with Sam and me fighting constantly-I guess that made it harder on poor Marcus. And also-not to mention his Mum being a workaholic and all that. Wow, Marcus’s childhood really didn’t seem that happy and colourful.
“We’re sorry Marcus,” Sam broke the deep thinking silence-surprising me. “I guess we didn’t realise your situation. If we’d known-our fights would’ve probably lessened and we definitely would’ve made sure we didn’t upset you. We care for you Marcus, and I think now we should do something fun-as a family.”
Honestly-I thought I needed hearing aids. Seriously. A deep speech coming from Sam Taylor? Nah. But it did. And he actually said he CARED for Marcus and he thought we should do something fun as a family? I was obviously in some parallel universe. Either that-or Sam’s bipolar case was VERY severe.
Marcus grinned. “Can we play soccer?’
Sam nodded. “Sure buddy.”
Marcus smile grew bigger. “I’ll go ask one of the families if I can borrow their soccer ball! I’ll run as fast as I can!”
He took off, speeding down the field.
“Sam Taylor, you do surprise me,” I chuckled, shaking my head.
We both got up, swiping grass off our clothing.
“Never tell ANYONE I went all mushy and deep alright?” Sam told me, gritting his teeth. “That would ruin my reputation.”
“What is your reputation anyway?” I laughed, stepping back.
Sam shrugged. “Carefree hot dude?”
I rolled my eyes. His ego was the size of Jupiter.
“Do you know how to play soccer?’ Sam questioned.
I rolled my eyes again. “Please. I was in the girls’ soccer team last year and we won our finals. I think I know how to kick a soccer ball.”
I thought I imagined a hint of a smile creep up at the corner of Sam’s face-but then it was gone-as quick as it came. I shook my head, flicking off a blade of grass off my top.
Marcus speeded back to us, hugging a black and white soccer ball to himself. “Let’s play!” he cheered.
“Alright, let’s do boys vs. girls,” Sam smirked, ruffling Marcus’ hair.
I nodded. “Right. Cuz’ that is completely fair on the girls’ side.”
Sam shrugged. “Who cares? You said you won the finals last year? Prove it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Oh I’ll prove it alright. I’ll prove it real good.”
***
“I’m starting with the ball-considering its 2-1,’ I announced, kicking the ball lightly to the sideline.
We’d placed Sam’s jacket and someone’s abandoned football as my goal, and a fallen branch and someone’s discarded cardigan as the boys’ goal. We’d lined twigs and sticks carefully along the sides as sidelines. Luckily the grass had been cut really short-so the sticks and twigs were pretty visible.
“Alright, good luck-you will definitely need it,” smirked Sam-causing me to glare right back.
“Alright kiddo, you cover the goal, I’ll cover Montana,” Sam instructed, and Marcus eagerly nodded back, running to where their goal was.
“Fun, I get the big giant on me,’ I groaned.
Sam smirked, sweetly. “Good luck getting past my wall of defence.”
I snorted. “Your wall of defence? Please.’
“3....2...1...PLAY!” cheered Marcus, jumping up and down.
Aw, he was actually quite cute now.
I quickly lightly kicked the ball forward, and saw that Sam had spread out his arms and legs, and was bouncing on his toes. I smirked. Easy-peasy. He had laid the perfect plan for me.
I faked a right, and kicked the ball straight through his legs, and dashed past him, collecting the ball with my feet. Sam was frozen on the spot, and spun around, stunned I just performed a trick on him. I flashed the thumbs-up sign back, and dribbled the ball down to the goals.
Marcus was jumping up and down, excitedly, waiting for me to come nearer to the goals.
I smiled gently at him. “Ready to defend my goal Marcus?”
He nodded, “I will SO block it!”
I laughed, and positioned it carefully-and missed on purpose. I kicked an easy shot-which Marcus quickly kicked back. Sam ran forward and picked up Marcus, tossing him on Sam’s shoulders.
“Woooo! 5 cheers for the goalie of the century!” hooted Sam.
I could tell that Sam knew I faked it, and while cheering with Marcus, he actually sent me a genuine smile for about 3 seconds. Then he turned away from me, dropping Marcus back on the ground. It was so weird. Seeing Sam act so friendly and kind towards a person like that. He did that with Dana-I could see from a far distance. I guess Sam was pretty good with kids.
Don’t worry, I wasn’t playing soft. Once Sam was defending-I would definitely put in my energy into the goal.
“Okay I start with the ball,” Sam announced.
“Can I go down to the goals?” Marcus questioned.
Sam laughed. “Sure buddy.”
Marcus dashed down to the goals, leaving me and Sam at the other end.
“That was um...pretty nice of you,’ muttered Sam-barely audible. “It um, gave the kid high esteem.”
He was...COMPLIMENTING me? This day sure wasn’t ordinary.
I shrugged. “He needed it. The kid already has a hard life. He needs a boost in esteem.”
Sam shuffled. “Let’s start. I can’t bear with this mushy stuff.”
So we played. And you know what? It was actually fun. Amusing, fun. Sam was a totally different guy when he played soccer. He was nice, friendly. I mean-not totally positive nice guy (he made a ton of snarky, smart-ass remarks about me and my playing). He was amazing to Marcus-and for the first time ever since I met Marcus, he was actually smiling genuinely with a giant smile on his face.
I know crazy and completely psychotic for me to actually say playing soccer with Sam and Marcus was fun-but it was. There was a bit of playful tackling, and Sam once actually tackled me-but I quickly shoved him away.
We decided to go have lunch at Nando’s-due to Marcus’s begs and pleads. Sorry to break your retarded rules, Mrs Montgomery-but you haven’t lived if you’ve never had Nando’s.
I glanced at the menu, studying the different spice levels. “So, how hot do you want your chicken to be, Marcus?”
“Mild,” Marcus said, proudly.
“Whoa buddy-you sure?” Sam questioned. “Mild’s pretty hot. Think you can take it?’
“I can definitely take it!” declared Marcus, looking very sure of himself.
I smiled. “Well if you’re sure...”
We ordered the Mild Whole Chicken with potato chips as a side, a bottle of sparkling water for me, and two Cokes for Marcus and Sam.
“This is the first Coke I’ve had in my life,” Marcus told us, once the waiter had left. “Mummy believes Coke is full of maggots and ruins my teeth.”
“Your first Coke?” Sam choked. “In your entire life?”
Marcus nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“That’s hard-core,” Sam murmured, shaking his head.
I kicked Sam under the table really violently on the shin-and he made a dying noise, his eyes widening. “Gah!”
The food luckily arrived (the service was pretty goddamn good), and we hungrily dug in, savouring the yummy chicken, potato chips and drinks.
“Nando’s is really yummy,’ Marcus happily declared, before popping a potato chip into his mouth.
“Have you tried McDonalds?” I questioned, taking a swig of my sparkling water.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot Crew. Everybody’s had McDonalds.”
There he was-back to his normal self. Sigh.
“Actually, I haven’t,’ Marcus piped in.
“HA!” I jeered at Sam, pointing my index finger at him, with glee.
Sam rolled his eyes again. “Immature brat.”
I was SO, SO, SO tempted to shoot back some smart-ass remark-but then I remembered Marcus-and forced myself to restrain from attacking Sam verbally.
I changed the topic quickly. “So Marcus, um...do you have any hobbies?”
“Hobbies?” Marcus asked, confused.
“Things you like to do,” Sam supplied.
“I like to go on my bike and on my scooter!” Marcus grinned. “And go-karting is fun.”
Sam smirked. “Go-karting, biking and scootering. All hobbies where you can run over girls like Montana.”
My jaw dropped wide open. Did he JUST say that?
I started getting really riled up-and fired up. “I am SO freaking SICK of you acting immature and being a real jerk! You always say I’m immature-that is the biggest lie ever. You, Sam Taylor, are the sickest, most immature, rudest, idiotic, JERK on the face of planet Earth!”
I stood up, flung my bag over my shoulder, and scraped my chair back, fuming in rage.
“And you know what? I’m completely SICK of being the mature one here. I’m leaving all the freaking responsibility here to YOU.”
Sam looked stunned, his mouth wide open.
YES.
THAT’S.
FREAKING.
RIGHT.
YOU.
SICK.
CRUEL.
IDIOTIC.
PIG-HEADED.
JERK.
I pushed my chair into the table, and quickly leant over to Marcus, who was looking shell-shocked at my random outburst.
“I do hope you covered your ears for most of that Marcus,’ I whispered. “See you at school.’
With that, I marched out of Nando’s, with everybody staring at me-leaving an angry cloud of dust behind me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Joy to the world, she was updated. Sorry, I got back from my holiday recently, and school's started, and this project has sprung out on me. :( I was working hard on this, rewrote a few bits here and there. But I reckon this chapter is pretty decent-considering. And wow, Montana and Sam were actually (briefly) getting along? This story has turning a different corner don't you think? On a different note, I watched Titanic, Despicable Me 2 and White House Down! Officially on my favourite movies list, is Despicable Me 2 and White House Down! Sorry Titanic, but you just didn't make the cut. My friend is obsessed with Titanic-she would murder me in my sleep if she saw my new list. Damn, I need to update that list on my profile page!
Long Author's Note (me rambling about crap). Thanks for sticking by!
peaceanddisaster xx