My name is Maya-Ray Divonne. Just the sound of my name is enough to make any sane person run for their life. And they should.
I'm part of a gang, no official name set to us, but people just refer to us as the West Creek Greasers. We have an on-going rivalry with the school across town: Westfield.
I'm sort of like the leader or whatever of my gang. I didn't choose to be, but with my reputation and all, I sort of gained the role. I'm the most well known, bad-tempered fighter within in a thirty mile radius. So, I guess that's why people run.
But he didn't. No, he stayed, much to my discontent. He was a Westfielder. Part of their gang at one time.
We didn't get along at first. But slowly, and unfortunately, he grew on me.
Our relationship was different. We fought all the time, but with something other than anger or frustration. I think it was just a way to express our feelings. Endearment. Desire. Passion. And dare I say: love.
With a few arguments here, gang fights there, and the occasional motorcycle ride, I fell. Fell for him hard.
Somehow, he satisfied the undisclosed desires in my heart.