Chapter 34-
"Scarlett, so much as even hint at giving me any advise or whatnot, and I will scream bloody murder and probably kill someone."
My flip flops slap the hard concrete in an aggravated way as we descend the front steps of the school. Jeezus. Even my footwear is translating my mood.
Good.
I hear Scarlett sigh beside me, and feel the tiniest twinge of guilt.
Dammit. I curse my stupid, socially awkward, bitchy self. She’s just being friendly and kind and comforting. She’s being my friend. Jeezus, Clarisse, I think to myself. She’s still walking beside you even if you just snapped at her for basically breathing. Quit being such a turkey!
Ugh. My subconscious and guilt manage to tone down my temper an eighth of a degree.
“Sorry,” I mutter, so quietly that the sound of my flip flop hitting the pavement as we reach the parking lot nearly drowns it out. “I’m just…y’know. Pissed. And being bitchy. Like usual.”
There, subconscious and guilty feeling! Happy now you greedy little bitches?
Scarlett suddenly chuckles. “Noooo, Clarisse, I had no clue that you were pissed.”
When we were simply acquaintances I’d have never imaged small, soft, sweet-looking Scarlett to ever be so damn well practiced in sarcasm. I’m surprised when I crack a smile.
She grins, pushing her long straight hair behind her ear. I would literally kill for hair that didn’t require a rake to rip through it every morning just so it looks vaguely presentable. Alright, not literally kill, but figuratively. “Now that you’re smiling,” I force a scowl on my face and she laughs at me again, “I’m going to ask you why you were going to scream and kill someone if I so much as said one word.”
Immediate rage flares up into my system again and I debate tearing my backpack in half to relieve some fury. But then carrying all of my books back would be a bitch, so probably not… Through clenched teeth, and I snarl, “Well, for starters, Sebastian nearly pushed me down a flight of stairs today.”
Scarlett stops dead and gapes at me. “What?”
Again, though I should expect it, I’m surprised by the strong emotions on Scarlett’s face. She’s so calm and sweet and casual, I don’t think anyone expects her to even be capable of anger. She looks utterly outraged, and a quick flashback to when she yelled at Sebastian throws me into backpedal mania.
“But he didn’t! It was a joke.” Barely. If there hadn’t been any witnesses he’d have probably dropkicked me down those damn stairs! “He pushed me but caught me. Just to scare me.”
She frowns but nods, her forehead wrinkling as she thought. She starts walking with me again. “Alright. What else?”
Again, my fury burns up some more. “Economics.” I growl.
She laughs a little bit.
“It is not funny. I wanted to kill him– ”
“You always want to kill him.”
“Well I really wanted to fucking kill him.”
Scarlett rolls her eyes. “Well that’s new.”
I growl incomprehensibly under my breath. She didn’t have to spend an entire class period with the fucking son of a bitch–
“What did he do that pissed you off so bad? Apart from the usual.”
Oh God, where to start?
We’d already reached my van, but Scarlett simply leaned against it and dropped her backpack onto the hood. I unlocked the van and slipped my backpack from my shoulders, opening the door and throwing it inside.
“He was just…God, I could have killed the moron when he…”
Scarlett raises her eyebrows at me and I inhale through my nose to gather my thoughts. Right. I have to tell Scarlett. In a way that makes sense. Most teenage girls do this sort of thing, which is spilling all of their pent up feelings to someone they trust. But I’m so new at this, I think I’ve only done this once before…I’ll probably have to omit about fifty percent of the swear words too. Just kidding, I don’t know if I can do fifty, maybe thirty five percent…
I started with how he’d followed me all the way down the fucking hallway to Economics, laughing at me for squealing like a little pig when he nearly killed me, or some nonsense. Though I was pissed as hell, I’d been doing a relatively good job at ignoring him, until he decided to amp up his annoying-ness.
“Remember I told you that you sounded like a little pig when you screamed?”
My sarcasm couldn’t resist taking a snap at him. “Yes, like five steps ago.”
“Well, that gave me an idea.”
“Oh, that must have been exciting. How often does that happen?”
He’d ignored me and went on explaining his ‘idea’. Apparently he decided that I had to have another nickname. This nickname was pretty damn good, if he could say so himself, but it wasn’t good enough to completely exclude my other one, ‘Psycho’. It was just about perfect, though. He rambled like that for a while longer and I was beginning to tune him out, actually hoping he’d keep up his babble so I could continue tuning him out.
But he then announced my second nickname as ‘Piglet’.
I’d stumbled over my own feet in shock. “What?!”
He laughed at me and nodded, a wicked smile on his face.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I snarled and started stomping ahead. PIGLET? Like, the shy, stuttering little pig from Winnie The Pooh whom I never really could decide was a boy or girl? He nicknamed me after that?
“Well, it was between Porky or Bacon, and frankly,” He’d reached over and pinched my sides – which had made me blush profusely and I’d swatted at him with my notebook – and then poked my shoulder bone, “you’re too skinny to call Porky. And I love Bacon. So I can’t call you Bacon.”
He’d had a point there, so I just silently fumed over my new nickname and stomped onward to Economics, a giant, hot, stupid football player in tow.
Once we got to Economics I’d high-tailed it to my desk, looking for even a moment’s peace from him. But he simply followed me at a leisurely pace, and then, smiling at me, picked up a desk – I glimpsed his beautiful bicep muscle at work and had to look down at my notebook, furious with myself – and dropped it down next to mine. And then he sat in it and scooted it all the way over. As in, despite-being-in-separate-desks-we-were-brushing-elbows over.
And for the next class period I’d had an internal battle with myself on whether committing homicide was worth it.
“You what?” Scarlett asked, looking like she trying not to laugh.
“Basically went against my deepest desire.”
“Which was?”
“Stabbing the motherfucker in the eye with my pen.”
She busted out laughing and because her laugh was infectious, soon, so was I. After we’d laughed ourselves to oblivion, she said, “I’m sorry…I just…hahaha…couldn’t help it! He’s such an asshole…hahaha…”
“I know. But whatever. At least I don’t have to worry about him now.”
“Right.” She slips her bag back onto her shoulders. It rustled the almost paper-like fabric of the lavender blouse she’s wearing. It’s actually really cute. Its flowy with peasant-style sleeves and pearly white buttons. It compliments her willowy physique. I usually never bother looking at or envying girls over their clothes. I usually just notice what people wear, but often don’t take too much stock in it. There was a time long ago I’d envied people for their clothes and appearances, but that was a lesson well learned.
I shake my head to clear it of nonsense. The past is done and dead, no point in musing over it now, I think irritably.
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow Scarlett,” I say to her over my shoulder, and then do a double take.
Graham, or Teddy as he so lovingly likes to be called, is looming over a very scarlet looking Scarlett. Well, looming as much as leaning against my van with one elbow allows, but he’s still a lot bigger than Scarlett so he’s still got some loom room. He’s got that damned player grin plastered on his face and his big blue eyes are hooded and bedroom-y. Scarlett’s got a death grip on her backpack and a completely baffled/embarrassed/alarmed look on her face.
“…you at Will’s party this weekend?” He was asking her, cocking his head so his mess of blonde hair shone in the sun and his big grin was brighter than ever. Christ. I honestly still cannot fathom how the hell he can be such a complete dolt and then master being seductive.
“I d-didn’t know there was one.” Scarlett muttered, cheeks turning a brighter and brighter shade of red. Her gray-green eyes are darting from her Grecian sandals to his face is rapid succession.
“Really?” Graham lost some of his sexy and became more of Graham, “Huh. Figured his girlfriend had spread the word pretty well. Do you know Yolanda?”
“Yolanda who?” She asked, her voice just barely audible. Now this is the Scarlett that most people expect to see. And the one that I honestly haven’t seen in a while.
“Umm…” He was definitely back to being dopey Graham as his golden eyebrows scrunched together in thought. If the kid wasn’t a complete manwhore half the time, I would honestly love him to death. He’s seriously adorable and sweet. But still a manwhore. “…Shit…Starts with an L…Lillon, Lion, Lickety…Oh! Lincoln. Yolanda Lincoln. Kickass gymnast? Brother who’s in college and might get into the NBA?”
Scarlett shakes her head, which makes her long hair fall out from behind her ear and fan out to cover her face. Graham then immediately gets his bedroom eyes snapped back into place and then leans a little closer to her, gently touching that hair and tucking it back behind her ear. I wonder if my face gets that red when Sebastian does stupid stuff like that to me. Shit. Probably.
“Well, that’s alright.” He says, his voice soft, flirtatious. “You’ll just come to the next one, and I’ll be the one to tell you.” He smiles at her. “Kay?”
Scarlett’s wide eyes are fixed on Graham, her face redder than my van. She gives him a tight smile, her feet squirming to be on the run. “Yea. S-Sure.” She suddenly side steps away from him, and he lets a piece of her long hair tumble away from his fingers, which she didn’t notice he was holding. “I’ve got to go. Bye Graham.”
He gives her a sexy little half smile. “Teddy. Call me Teddy, please.”
She blinked a couple times at that smiles of his and then furtively shook herself out of the stupor. “Ok. Bye…Teddy.” She gives me a tight and panicked smile. “Bye Clarisse!” And then she was speed walking away across the parking lot, long tan hair aflutter in the breeze.
Graham continues to lean against my van and study her as he walks away, completely oblivious to me, so I take advantage of that and smack him with my notebook.
“Yow! What the fuck?”
I cross my arms and glare at him pointedly, my notebook held threateningly in my grip.
“Oh…that whole thing about not bothering Scarlett…haha…” Graham just grins at me and scratches the back of his head. “Sorry. She looked too good today.”
I sigh and facepalm. “I know she’s pretty, but –”
“No, seriously. I literally about tripped at lunch when she walked in front of me. And I’m not just talking about how good her ass looked in those jeans…” He seems my expression and backpedals, his eyes on my death-grip on the notebook. “But seriously. She looked beautiful today. I-I just had to talk to her.”
“Using the b-word just barely saved you from being swatted in the face.” I growled, relaxing my arms. Because Graham calling Scarlett beautiful is seriously sweet. Yet I still don’t trust him.
He grins at me. “I know.”
I scowl at him and then feign relaxation. Then whip the notebook within inches of his nose – I had to stretch, but he flinched – and snarled, “But I still don’t want you messing with her!”
Graham’s lower lip pokes out as he frowns at me. “Why?”
“Because! She’s my friend Graham, and I really don’t want you bothering her and hurting her.”
An obstinate side of Graham I’d never seen had a slightly colder scowl displacing his childish one, and jutting his chin out defiantly. “Who says I’m going to hurt her?” It’s the closed to angry I’ve ever heard him sound and I’m momentarily blindsided.
After a second I regain myself though. I put my hands on my hips, the rolled up notebook in one hand. “Graham, when was the last time you’ve had a long-term relationship?”
The sour expression on his face deflates and he crosses his arms over his chest, glowering at his shoes. He doesn’t say anything.
“Graham?”
He grimaces at me from under his golden eyebrows sulkily. “Like…sophomore year.”
Ha! Got you. “And how long was that?”
He thinks for a moment. “Three…Four months.”
I triumphantly cross my own arms over my chest, unable to not feel a little haughty. “So the longest relationship you’ve had was during your sophomore year, and it lasted three to four months? Now I think you see what I’ve been saying.”
Graham then stands up straight, dropping his arms to bury his hands in his pockets. That obstinate expression was back on his face, his jaw set. “So?”
I give him a deadpan look. “Graham, that means that you’re other relationship were most likely one-night stands –”
“No!” He says, butting in. “I’ve had some month-long relationships too.”
Wait, what? If they were only a month-long how much were they worth anyways? “Alright, explain.”
And then, suddenly, Graham is back to being a somewhat sheepish kind of kid, scratching the back of his head and look at the ground. “Well, they were, sort of relationships. But, not really. I mean we hung out a lot…but it wasn’t the ‘date’ scene ‘cause…”
Oh, ew! “Okay, okay, that’s good. I get it. I don’t need a play by play…” I mutter, and then Graham is now laughing at me. Jeezus. The kid’s freaking bipolar. I glower at him. “So you understand why I don’t want you chasing her? She is not your type. I have a feeling that if Scarlett wants any kind of relationship she’ll want one that’s…I don’t know…meaningful.”
Graham sighs, a smile on his face. He kicks at some gravel on the asphalt. “I know, I know. I haven’t been that kind of guy in a long time.” He grins at me, back to his old self, so unshakably happy. But there’s thoughtfulness in his eyes. “Who knows when I’ll be that guy again.”
Oh…ok. Jeezus. When the hell did he turn into a philosopher? Christ, I had no idea a person could pop from mood to mood like that. “Are you bipolar?” I muttered.
Graham blinks his big blue eyes at me and then throws his head back and laughs, golden hair flying. He still laughing as he starts to walk past me and then ruffles my hair. “No, Clarisse, I’m not. But as much fun as this has been, I’ve got to get to practice. So, see ya.”
Then he lumbers off back towards the school. I sigh, with blows a strand of my messed up hair from my face. Lordy. Damn guys. I crawl into my van and slam the door.
The next morning, I wake up to find all three cats sleeping on the bed with me. Nibbles is snuggled up with my armpit, Cuddles is curled up on my pillow (that bitch! Did she move my head!?), and Barnabas is sitting on the very far corner of the bed, his pale blue eyes open and malicious.
“What are you losers doing in here?” I croaked. Barnabas’s eyes narrowed, like he’d understood what I’d said (ha!), Nibbles stretched and dug his claws into the blanket, and then Cuddles opens her eyes to glower at me (I imagine her queenly British voice, chiding me. ‘And why the bloody hell did you dare wake me?’).
As I sat up – which flopped Nibbles over and I laughed – I remembered that last night mom had decided to vacuum, which had thrown them all into a demented panic. I mean, Nibbles spazzing out is a given, but posh Cuddles and proud Barnabas? I figured they’d just yawn at it and continue being prudes. But nooooooo. Cuddles had let out an infuriated yowl – which scared the shit out of my parents and me – and dashed from sight. Barnabas had puffed up like a cotton-candy machine gone bad, his back arched and his eyes wide and afraid and vengeful.
They’d spent the entire two hours of my mom vacuuming running from hiding spot to hiding spot until we lost track of them and eventually just gave up trying to console them.
“So you dumb-butts decided to hide in my room?” I said to them as I scratched under Nibbles’ chin. I then got out of bed and stretched. Ugh. I don’t want to go to school today. I don’t know why.
I jump in the shower, and as I step out I yelp when I see all three cats sitting on the bathroom floor. Jeezus! Scared the shit out of me. Nibbles playfully jumps at my toes, while Cuddles glowers disdainfully at the water that had apparently dropped a little too close to her. Barnabas is sniffing at the dirty clothes hamper.
“Jeezus. Must you follow me?” They obviously say nothing and I huff angrily. I then proceed to get ready, whilst being followed by three cats. I mean, I guess it’s not exactly a terrible thing, but I guess I thought cats usually did their own thing. Sat in a corner and cleaned their fur or whatever. Granted, Nibbles had the disposition of a puppy, but I have no idea why the other two are following me.
As I rummage through my dresser, I find a hoodie I haven’t worn in a while. It’s pale green with drawstrings and a silver zipper, the company logo stamped in a stylish/faded way where the heart is, and two wonderful sizes too big. I shrug and then dig out a plain white tee to wear beneath it. Though most of my wardrobe is a collection of polos (gotta love something so simple yet vaguely decent looking), I do own some other clothes. Generally bought from Target or JC Penny if I ever shop with my mom. I tug on a pair of shorts (not booty shorts, hell no, I don’t know if you call them shorts. They’re jeans that go down to my knees. Like slightly shorter caprees. And they’re baggy too of course haha).
As I’m applying some cover up to the damned pimples that have surfaced near my nose (damn pimples to hell), Nibbles jumps up onto the vanity, catches sight of himself in the mirror, and jumps back and hisses, his back arching. Its so funny I have to sit down to breath.
I run downstairs and grab a poptart from the cupboard, and march out the door toward the garage. Hm. I think. Despite my amusing morning, I still don’t want to go to school today. Stupid. Nothing to worry about.
*
Walking into the school, I have my nose buried in my Psychology book, because I’m trying to study for a quiz I know we have today. I know most of this stuff, but if I just reread this chapter I should be about perfect–
“Oof!” I’d run into someone and I’d smushed my nose into the pages. I drop the book from sight, glare already on my face so I can yell at Sebastian…Except it isn’t Sebastian. It’s Nyssa.
Ugh.
She’s got this completely insulted look on her face as she holds her cappuccino from her body, as if she’s spilt something on her outfit. Which from what I can tell, her tight, red-laced shirt and super-skinny skinny jean ensemble looks untouched.
Damn.
She’s giving me this look that I assume is supposed to look intimidating. “If you’d have spilled anything on these jeans…”
“I’d have patted myself on the back.” I say, cutting her off. Seriously. I don’t understand that weird, bleach-washed idea. Seriously just looks like someone swirled their pants in a can of white paint.
“No,” She says, standing normally again and continuing to glower at me, one way-too-plucked eyebrow arched. “I’d have killed you. Because these are brand new.”
I roll my eyes. “You’d ‘kill’ me if anything happened to your precious pants. Right.”
“I totally fucking would you little bitch. These are fucking seventy dollars.”
My eyes about boggle out of my head. I stare at her ugly-ass jeans, completely stunned. Seventy dollars? Those piece of shit looking things were seventy fucking dollars? What the hell has the world come to? I look at her, completely disgusted. “Why? Oh my god, those are ugly.”
Nyssa gapes at me and then just sighs and takes another sip from her Starbucks. “I’m not even going to try and explain fashion to you. Honestly. Coming from the girl who wears polos every fucking day.” Her eyes light on my hoodie – in an unsurprised way – and she feigns shock. “Ohmygod! Just kidding! You’re not wearing a fifth-grade outfit anymore. You look like a junior high chain smoker.” She smiles much to sweetly at me and waves a hand over my outfit. “So much classier sweetums.”
I honestly couldn’t give two fucks what she thinks of my clothes, but calling me a chain-smoker is bullshit. I grit my teeth to keep from giving her too much of an outburst. “I would say thank you, but I honestly don’t give a flying fuck about you. Really.” I start walking past her, deciding she really wasn’t worth the time. “Goodbye whore.”
She catches up to me remarkably fast, and I realize that she’s my height today. She isn’t wearing heels. “Yes, because I’m the whore, considering how much you’re panting after Sebastian.” She spits at me in a low level tone, so only I can hear.
I laugh out loud at that. Me panting after Sebastian? Oh god. “Me?” I say to her, eyebrows raised and a wide smile on my face. I adjust my glasses, holding back more laughs. “I remember you stomping out into the parking lot to yell at Sebastian to text him back and trying to get him to leave with you. And I also remember someone finding me on the internet and telling me to leave him alone since he is ‘yours’.”
I’m a little disappointed because she doesn’t freak like I thought she would. She just keeps walking beside me, a pinched scowl on her face. She suddenly looks over and hisses under her breath, “He is. I’ve got him wrapped around my finger. And I don’t care how deep your obsession– ”
“Wait what? No. HELL no.” FUCK no is there any obsessing with Sebastian! Just hatred!
“Oh please, honey, I see the way your freckled little face gets all red if he so much as talks to you. He’s only talking to you because he hates you and wants to irritate you.” When she said that last sentence it almost sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than me.
“Trust me, I know that,” I grumble. She glowers at me and I glower right back.
Nyssa sips from her cappuccino, eyes focused on nothing ahead of her but burning with anger nonetheless as she walked. After she’d swallowed, she turned and fixed me with that burning gaze. “I will get you, you know.”
Embarrassing as it is to admit, I felt a twinge of apprehension. She hates me. I can see it. Basically like Flora, because I’d hurt her pride as well, but in a much more concentrated form, and in some ways, that’s worse. Much fucking worse. Because Flora is predictable in her anger, because I know that all she’s basically going to do is try and pummel with her fist. Nyssa actually has a bit of a brain under those brunette tresses. But I did not let her see my worry. I smile a sugary smile at her and cock my head, saying, “Go ahead and try, sweetums.”
Then I walked away, feeling her burning gaze lighting my head on fire.
*
The day floats by normally after that. My other classes are of course, fine. In Trig, Sebastian trips me on the way in but apart from that can do little else to me. I got a revenge of sorts when Mrs.Morris called on Sebastian and he got the answer wrong. He met my smug smile with a flat-out black scowl. Ha! Take that you jerkface asshole.
I am, of course, dreading Economics, but there’s little I can do about my situation, and since I hate it so much, I try not to think about it until the time comes to save my energy. When it rolls around I’m all tense, but then surprised to see a substitute sitting at Mr.Rebb’s desk.
Once we’re all settled (in our usual seats mwahahaha! Meaning I’m nearly in the front and Sebastians way in the back) she stands and tells us that Mr.Rebb is ill and will be missing some school, and that he wants to be present for this important project, so until he returns, we receive studyhall time for this class period.
YEEEEEESSSSSS.
I could have stood up and cheered. A few kids did, one being the cheerleader behind me who is paired with my once-acquaintance Kauro. I turn and peek down the row at him, seeing him taking out a different book, looking a little relieved himself. Hm. Maybe one of these days I’ll have to strike up a conversation with him, see how he’s been.
Someone tapping on my shoulder makes me jump and has my hands immediately grasping for my notebook for defense. Oh HELL no is Sebastian getting the jump on me today–
Turns out its just Simon, who looks like he’s half tempted to run from me, his big blue eyes wide as hell. Oops. I immediately relax and sheepishly drop the notebook. Dammit dammit dammit Clarisse, you get a second friend and now you scared him away with an unintentional notebook threat…
“S-Sorry, I…um…” The fuck can I say as an excuse? ‘Sorry, I thought you a giant, moronic, hot football player here to torment me?’ YeahNO.
Simon (Beagle) eyes me with worried suspicion. “Are you ok?”
Well, I was. Now I’m paranoid because I half expect Sebastian to be around me all the damn time, annoying the damned shit out of me. I adjust my glasses on my nose in an attempt to look and act normal. “Yes. Perfectly.”
“Ok. Do you mind helping me with some work?” He asked, holding up a notebook and a large, vaguely familiar book behind it.
I nodded. “Sure.”
Simon drags a chair that I hadn’t realize he had with him beside my desk and tentatively places his stuff on the edge of the wood. Oh! Duh. Gotta move my freaking stuff. Jeezus Clarisse… I scoot my books and pencils over and grab his books and move them to the center of the desk.
“Have you taken Calculus?” He asks as he sits down beside me, taking a calculator from his pocket.
I turn the large book over and recognize it immediately. I’d lugged this massive, dark blue text around all of last year (nearly broke my back a couple times, no joke). I open it to the page where his worksheet was sticking out, eraser marks and scribbles discoloring the white paper. “Yep. Last year. I miss it. It was much better than Trigonometry. Trig sucks complete ass.”
He chuckles at me and gently tugs the sheet I was studying from my grasp and points at the top of the chapter. “Well, it’s a good thing you seemed to like it. Hell, I’m just glad you understand it! Do you remember anything about Definite Integral? It’s giving me hell.”
I start skimming the opening paragraph of the chapter, already enjoying myself. This is so familiar. Not easy, but I do understand it. “Oh yea, I remember this.”
Simon picks it up easily once I’ve re-explained it and did a few examples with him. He basically learned it after fifteen minutes, but he stayed at my desk for the rest of the hour, asking questions for the more difficult problems, or asking me to recheck his work. I didn’t feel awkward with Simon at all, and I respected him for handling my relatively harsh way of teaching (I’m not too incredibly patient…). If I told him he did something wrong he’d just reread his problem and ask if this was what he did wrong, or if that was what he did wrong. Never once got insulted.
Sometimes he almost got a little shy with me, but eventually we were talking about my ridiculous cats and their shenanigans.
“Nibbles did what?” He asked me, laughing, as he punched some numbers into his calculator.
“He pooped on my dad’s bathrobe while my dad was in the shower. My dad got out of the shower…” I had to stop because I was laughing. My dad’s face had been priceless. “…put it on…” Simon was chuckling about as loud as I was. “And…and said he felt something funny on his back. So he took the robe off and…hahaha, ohmygod, I’m sorry…and looked in the mirror. Big smudge of shit running down his back. I swear to god, he screamed for like a minute straight.”
Simon has to bury his face into his elbow to quiet his laughter. And that is a completely true story. Seriously one of the funniest things I’d ever seen. Dad screamed in the bathroom and then mom and I go running up the stairs to see what the hell is his deal. He’s got a towel around his waist – thank god – and is yelling about damned cats and how the hell they’re filthy un-trainable animals, and once he turned around to start the shower on again, Mom and I see the crap on his back and start laughing our asses off.
“That’s…hahahaha…awful!” He says, lifting up his head to look at me. The look of happiness suddenly froze on his face, his big blue eyes widening and staring right past me.
Um…ok? I turn and look over my shoulder, wondering what could have made Simon stop dead like that. My eyes find a person, and that person is stupid fucking idiot Sebastian MacCrain. He’s leaning against the bookshelf below the window, his arms crossed over his chest, a weird little smile on his flawless face (fuck! ‘Flawless face’? Dammit, I’m doing it again..) He’s wearing a white football jersey. Whoa. Is it Friday?? Must be…
Sebastian’s golden-tan eyes leave Simon and meet mine. He smiles at me, cocking his head to the side. “Enjoying yourself?”
Of course. He would come over here to irritate me. I raise an eyebrow. “And?”
Sebastian shrugs, continuing to smirk. “Oh, that’s no problem. Just curious. And a little lonely.” His eyes look past me, back to Simon, and I can almost feel him withering under that whiskey-colored gaze.
Ugh. This is why Sebastian pisses me off. He seems to know how much he intimidates people and uses it to his advantage. I glare at him. “Well that’s wonderful. Why don’t you go and be lonely somewhere else. I’m helping Simon with his Calculus.”
Sebastian raises a dark eyebrow, looking between Simon and I. “Calculus? Riiiigghht. Because laughter and Calculus go sooo well together.” His tone is dry.
“It actually can, if you’re smart enough to get through it.” I snap. I know his weak points and I will use them!! Bring it! I hear Simon’s shocked intake of breath at what I’d just said.
Sebastian’s smile fades quickly and I can see his jaw tense, see a flash of anger in his eyes. His shoulders tense and he glares at me coldly for a second, his face taut. Oooo. I’ve hit a nerve. Shit. He actually likes a little bit scary, especially since he’s standing and I’m sitting. Oh, crap crap crap crap, here I’ve opened my big fat mouth and now Simon’s in the death range too…
Sebastian closes his eyes and inhales and then exhales, his big shoulders moving slightly with the motion. His big, manly shoulders that are connected to strong arms and hands that could throttle me within an inch of my little life… Shhhiiiittt… He then opens his eyes to scowl at me. Gives me a hard smile. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” His voice is deep and gravelly and toneless and reminds me distinctly of death.
Whew. I think. I’m going to have to remember that any insults against his IQ are for supreme measures only, unless I’m trying to get killed (and I’m already on the top of PugFace’s list, so I don’t need anymore attempts on my life!). To keep my pride though, I give him a smug smile (also to hide my fear).
His expression still stony, he says, “So how do you know Simon?” Out of the corner of my eye I see Simon flinch the tiniest bit. Jeezus. I like you kid, but you’ve got to grow some balls.
“He’s my friend.” I hope I can say that. Can I? I mean I just did, but, shit what if he doesn’t think we’re friends? But aren’t we? I mean oh God…
“Oh. I see.” Sebastian said, his expression a little dull. He didn’t really look like he cared. I shook myself from my panic over verbally calling Simon my friend. He didn’t object so that means he doesn’t mind. Does he? I want to look at him but I don’t want to take my eyes of Sebastian either.
“Well, that’s interesting, actually,” Sebastian said, a grin suddenly lighting his face, that same weird smile from before. Almost like he knew something I didn’t. I despise that.
“How so?”
“Well, you see,” Sebastian smiles a little wider, golden tan eyes glittering, “Simon’s my friend too. A pretty good friend, actually.”
Wait, what? I turn to look at Simon, who looks like he just wants to fade into the chair he’s sitting in. He looks at the floor, then at me, then at Sebastian, back to me, back to the floor. Barely mutters under his breath, “Yea, I know Sebastian.”
I squint at him. Take in his huddle position and his downward staring eyes. Yea. Probably because Sebastian’s an asshole and shoved him in a locker one day. Or several. This sets me on fire. I turn and glare full on at Sebastian, inaudibly telling him off. I won’t bitch him out in front of Simon for the kid’s sake, but if we were alone…
Sebastian gives me this almost confused look and then shakes his head at me. He turns his attention back to Simon, a half smile on his face. “Yeah, Simon and I go wayyy back. We were good buddies in elementary, right Squeak?”
‘Squeak’? I look at Simon, who’s smiling and shaking his head, an almost embarrassed look on his face. A nickname? Of course. Sebastian gives everybody fucking nicknames, I’ve got two for damned proof! I look at little Simon, my heart going out to him. Damn. Stuck with fucking Sebastian since elementary…
I’m about to turn around and give Sebastian a piece of my mind when the bell rings, shrilly piercing the room. Everyone is immediately up and picking up their books, ready to roll. I stand up, still angry. Fucking Sebastian! He is such an asshole. I grab all of my things, hoping Simon has all of his so I can stay near him and hopefully tell him to ignore Sebastian once we’re away from the asshole.
But Sebastian just turns around and grabs his books off the shelf. Jeezus. He’d planned to stay near us! Jerk! Simon and I leave the room, Sebastian on our heels, still talking. “Me and Squeak were table-mates in Second Grade,” He said, his shoes annoyingly clipping the back of my flip flops. “Us and Wendell Fink. You remember that kid? Always wiping his damn boogers under the table.”
Ahead of my, I see Simon laugh. I can’t decide if it was forced or not. I’d like to say so because he’d seemed to freaking afraid of Sebastian before. When Simon and I are out of the door, we both start to head left, but a hand reaches past my ear and grabs a fistful of Simon’s yellow t-shirt and jerks him back.
“Hang on there Squeak!” I hear Sebastian say, laughing. When I turn around, he’s got Simon tucked under his arm like a football. Simon’s face is startled and slightly red, his scrawny arms just barely hanging onto the bag that he about dropped, his legs dangling behind him.
Sebastian lifts Simon so he’s got his arm wrapped around his chest and facing him. “Haven’t talked to you in a while. You got a studyhall this hour?”
“Yeah,” Simon says, his expression a bit sulky. He looks like a puppy that isn’t very thrilled with being off the ground.
“Well so do I. Ramirez won’t miss you.” Sebastian looks up at me and grins, “See ya Piglet.” And then turns around, Simon still held aloft and starts walking down the hall. After a couple of steps I see Simon start wriggling around, one foot pressing into Sebastian’s hip for leverage to perhaps aid in an escape. Even from the back I can tell Sebastian’s laughing.
Completely and utterly furious, I whip around, a scowl on my face. People move out of my way and I’m glad. I see Scarlett at my locker, wearing a red and white Pirates shirt. That reminds me there’s a football game tonight.
“Is there a good player on the other team to kill Sebastian?” I snarl as soon as she’s within in hearing distance. I snap my locker open.
Scarlett laughs. “No. We’re playing the New Castle Tigers. We’re gonna cream ‘em.”
You have got to be kidding me. An easy game to make Sebastian’s ego even bigger? Hell no. “Seriously?” I snarl.
“New Castle has only one like three games the last three years.”
Dammit. “Well I’m not going then.”
Scarlett laughs at me again. “I figured. That’s ok. I mainly go to cheer with Ashleigh in case her brother gets to play, and there’s a pretty good bet that we will. We’ll probably fifty them by half-time anyways.”
I didn’t understand what she meant by ‘fifty by half-time’ but don’t ask anyways. “I’m not going to another football game unless there’s a chance Sebastian gets laid out.” I snarl. Seriously! And I am never ever ever ever ever buying a damn raffle ticket AGAIN.
“Well maybe you’ll consider going to next weeks game.” She says, a note of persuasion in her tone. “We’re playing the top-ranked team. And it’s the Homecoming football game.”
Oh? Top-ranked team? My ears immediately perk up at this thought. “Is there a really good guy who will crush Sebastian?”
She laughs at my intense interest. “I don’t know, probably. I’m going to make you come anyways,” Oh she thinks she will hm? “It’s Homecoming.”
Oh. Joy. Homecoming. I honestly hate that week. A bunch of stupid dress up days – honestly just an excuse for girls to wear slutty butt shorts and stupid outfits – and a pointless Coronation for the stupid King and Queen and then a stupid dance. UGH. Stupid every year. Scarlett teasingly hits my arm when I roll my eyes.
“You will come. And I’m going to make you dress up for Homecoming week too.”
I gape at her. “No! I hate Homecoming week!”
She just grins at me like a cat. “I will force you. Seriously. It won’t kill you dress funny for a week. Seriously. I’ll bet you’ll even have fun!”
My mind takes me back to one of last year’s dress up days. ‘Food Day’. A guy in a taco costume nearly fell on me when he’d tried running in the damn thing. The look I gave – though supposed to be intimidating – made her laugh. “What are the days?” I ask.
She turns to the locker behind her (she must have assumed I’d ask this) and rips a flyer that had been taped there. She clears her throat as if she’s about to start a speech and I can’t help but chuckle. Smart-ass.
“Monday is Animal Day.” Huh. Not to bad. “Tuesday is God/Goddess Day.” What? “Wednesday is Pajama Day.” Oh God. “Thursday is Duct Tape Day.” Of course. “And Friday is Pirate Day. And the Football Game. And then Coronation and the dance.” As expected.
“Hmph. Whatever. I won’t do it.” I say, turning back to my locker. Scarlett then shoves the piece of paper in my locker.
“Yes. You will. Take that home and then go shopping this weekend for stuff. You don’t have to go all out like some people,” The memory of the Taco kid jumps to mind. Hell no. “But just do something. Please. I’ll be doing it do. I’d force you to buy stuff this weekend but I’ve got a lot of stuff going on.”
Scarlett grins at me, gray-green eyes flashing, and starts punching my arm repeatedly. “You’d better do it.”
I try to shield myself with a book but she just starts attacking me from the other side. “Fine fine fine!” I groan. Jeezus woman!
“Good!” She says, grinning at me and giving me one last, relatively painful punch. “See ya!” She turns and walks down the hall, long straight hair swishing behind her.
Ugh. I think, rubbing my shoulder, but smiling.
_
I'm not even going to beg for forgiveness...I'm so sorry!!! D: I am just terrible at updating...but maybe a New Years resolution will be to be better? Haha I will truly try to be better at updating! I promise!!
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