Chapter 6:
Ebony Hart II
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Missed. Again. Ha, I smile sickeningly sweet at the stupid bitch who's been trying to hit me with the ball for the passed forty minutes.
Now, it's getting old.
Narrowing my eyes in on my target, I take in a deep breath, bring the basket ball to my body before swinging my arms outwards and launching the ball sailing to the other side of the gym.
Bullseye.
A triumphant smile of victory spreads across my face as the ball hits Leslie McCormick, my intended target, and nails her straight in the left boob.
She goes down like the Titanic.
Well that's what she gets for trying to get too cocky. The only reason why I have allowed her to think she and all her friends are freakin' amazing, sneering at me when they see me around school and whispering about me, is because it's kind of my fault that we're currently at a conflict.
I slept with her boyfriend.
What? It's not all my fault, I was drunk and he said that they had broken up. I, of course, broke his nose for lying to me, the jerk. But, I couldn't let her know that I felt bad about it, 'cause sympathy is a weakness, and weak, is one thing I'm not.
Call me a slut, a whore, a slag, a bitch, whatever, but you can't call me weak.
You want to know what really gets on my tits? (And know it's not, 'da boys', before you start cracking the whore jokes.) It's the fact that girls get all the shit. Like, seriously. See, I get called every name under the sun, girls call me a dirty whore and whatever, but at the end of the day, does it not take two people to have sex? Yeah, last time I checked, and it wasn't too long ago, it does.
So why the fuck, is it all the girls fault? If I'm so dirty, nasty and disgusting, then why don't these guys get slated for doing stuff with me?
Want to know why? The big secret?
It's because they have penises.
Yep, the stereotypical sign of masculinity and power and no matter how much people can lie to themselves about the world being equal, it's not. Nope, people still carry that stupid ass tradition with them that men are better than woman. Stronger, less sensitive.
Well, guess what? I could kick half these fuck-faces butts in my sleep. When you do what I do, your skin thickens up pretty quickly early on. It has too.
Now, people will say if you don't want to get objectified, why do you do things you do? That's also easy to answer, because I friggin' like it. Do they ever stop to consider that maybe I actually enjoy sex, and I don't just want to be called a slut?
I don't think the problem is with me sleeping around. No, I use protection, I don't want any strings attached, I only want one thing out of the boy, the same way they only want one thing out of me.
I think the problem lies with everyone else, being judgemental about goddamn everything. Get over yourself, and mind your own business.
I suddenly come crashing out of my reverie when the basket ball smacks me square in the stomach and hit the floor, landing on my ass.
I groan and clutch at my tummy and fall onto my back. Well, this is what I get for thinking about stuff.
I don't do that a lot.
"Hart, maybe if you got your head out of the clouds and back down in the school gym, that wouldn't have happened!" Coach calls out to me, "you're out!"
Mumbling curse words under my breath, I sit up and scan the other side of the room for my attacker, expecting one of the bitchy girls to be the culprit.
Instead, I see Sydney Taylor stomping the other side of the hall belting out team encouragements to her obviously unenthusiastic teammates. Jesus, she looks like a freaking Viking on ket.
You know, I'm not going to take it personally, considering she's giving that same murderous look to everyone on my team, her opposing team, I can see it in her eyes, she wants to crush us, like literally.
It's quite scary, and it takes quite a lot to scare me.
As I move slowly and groggily to get up, I feel a hand grasp around my arm, long nails digging into my arm painfully. I look to my aided in annoyance.
I could think of about a billion faces I'd rather be looking at right now.
"Why don't you take a picture, it'll last longer." Alyssa snaps irritably and crosses her arms, letting go of me.
I snort so hard it kinda hurts my nostrils.
"Well done, Alyssa, I see you're only just getting up to date with the two-thousand-and-nine shouts." I give her a encouraging smile.
She just sneers at me spitefully.
"Let's just cut the crap. I tried to talk to The Principle today." Alyssa says, her lips pursing in obvious discomfort.
I roll my eyes angrily. I don't want to talk about his, the three of them idiots know how I feel about this.
I start walking away towards the benches against the sidewalks of the gym, where all the people who are out are.
Alyssa, of course, just has to follow me there.
"I don't want to talk about you telling The Principle, Alyssa, you know I didn't want you to tell him in the first place!" I hiss at her angrily.
I sit down on the bench sulkily, and Alyssa stands hovering over me with her arms crossed and an almost desperate look on her face.
"I tried to tell him. Key word; tried. But then I saw that guy Thorne watching me and I chickened out." Suddenly she doesn't look so perfect, and her skin is pale and her eyes are scared. "W-what if they try to hurt us?"
I run a tired hand over my face and look up at her.
"I don't know. They won't. I think. I think we should just stay out of it. They'll leave us alone." Ugh, it makes me ill how frightened I sound. Like some little girl.
I'm Ebony Hart, I don't get get scared. I scare.
"E-ebony, I dont-"
"Alright girls! Sydney's teams are the winners. Now everyone go into the changing room to get changed!"
For a moment Alyssa looks as though she's going to say more but then that bitch of her bestie, Lexie, shouts her and the mask of perfection slides straight back into place.
With one more quick glance cast my way, she flicks her hair over her shoulders, turns around and struts the other way.
I get up to follow the rest of the girls into the changing rooms.
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"Ebony! Hey, Ebony!" I spin around and glare at the owner of the hand that is now being dropped from my arm, and to the guy I have been ignoring for the past ten minutes.
I stare at the guy expectantly, he just smiles at me nervously. He's tall, like taller than me (although, that's not that hard) and he's got a thin frame and messy blond hair with glasses.
I guess you could say he's pretty cute, if you're into that whole nerdy-Virgin thing. Me? Not so much.
"What?" I snap, gesturing as to why he's just stopped me and why we're now stood on the edge of the football field, next to the bleachers.
The guy goes slightly red and he nervously scratches is the back of his head.
"Oh, uh, I'm Tucker." He gives me a shy half smile.
I squint my eyes and raise my eyebrow.
"So?"
His face goes really red now and he clears his throat, looking nervously at the floor.
"I-I'm in your history class?" At my blank expression, he rushes on. "I sir three rows infront of you. I'm Tucker Williams?"
I feign a look of recognition, just so I don't make him feel bad and an easy smile relaxes onto his face.
He's kinda adorable, and he has the bluest eyes. He reminds me of a puppy, looking at me like that.
"Oh, yeah. So, uh, Tucker, what's up?" I run my hand through my hair and in the corner of my eye I notice a familiar group of guys, goofing around on the football field. I stare at them in annoyance.
The fact that they're just there having a good time, acting like normal boys, apposed to sending death threats to teenage girls, just fuels my anger even more. I know I said it was best to stay out of it, but the fact that they're just so smug about everything, irritates me to no end.
Also, it's just that they're so unfairly good looking also kills me. Like, they're all perfect, in a sinister type of way. It's just not natural.
Although, I suppose it'd be pretty unfairly hard for them to get girls if they were ugly, you know with the crazy personalities they've got.
How did they find that deer anyhow? Did they kill it?
Did you know killing cute and fury animals is the first step to becoming a serial killer? Also killing a school teacher is a pretty big step.
But, we don't know that they did any of that. All we know is that they're psychopaths with a flare for literature, with all the notes they send us.
"Ebony?" I'm snap my head suddenly back towards the Nerdy dude, who was waving his hand in front of my face.
"Oh, um, what?" I wonder, casting another annoyed glance at the boys, oblivious to my death glare.
"So, am I okay to give it to you?" Nerdy guy asks me, lifting his eyebrows.
Give what to me? I swear, if this one more freaky little dork asking me to give him a quickie behind the workshop block for money, I'm gonna snap.
I'm not a prostitute, despite what many people think.
"What?" I ask again, and Nerdy dude chuckles at me.
Did I say something funny?
"The history homework? You didn't turn up for class, so Mr. McGomery wants me to give the sheets to you." He explains.
I look to the group of guys again, gritting my teeth, unable to hide my irritation.
Nerdy stares at me expectantly, his hand on his rucksack zipper hesitantly. I give him my most dazzling smile, and he blinks at me a little surprised.
"Listen, Ner- I, uh, I gotta go. Catch up to me later about this, okay?" With that I turn away from him, and before I realise what I'm doing, I'm marching towards the group of guys, leaving Nerdy standing bewildered behind me.
It takes them about two second flat to sense my presence moving towards them, even though I'm still half way across the football field.
I gotta say, once they all stop what they're doing and just turn to look at me walking towards them, it's pretty awkward.
But I keep my thunderous expression plastered to my face and my muscles tense. Ohh, they're so going to regret trying to pick a fight with me.
I dare them to send me one more fucking note.
The pack leader stands a little ahead of the rest of his friends. A smirk on his stupid face. God, I want to punch it. With a baseball bat.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" That creep, Thorn, says, obviously amused. I roll my eyes and cross my arms angrily.
"A bunch of fucking weird, stupid, freaks." I give them a spiteful smile." And a truly talented young woman."
If I do say so myself.
Thorns seemingly right hand man laughs nastily, and the one behind him chuckles lowly.
"Not from where I'm standing."
"Then maybe you should move. Like, three thousand miles to the left?" I snap snidely, he just laughs again.
See what I mean? Creepy.
"What do you want?" The one with dark blonde, slightly wavy hair, and the icy blue eyes. With that hair and those eyes he looks like a bloody angel or something.
His friend laughs, gives the guy a sneer and looks at me.
"Is what he means where's that hot friend of yours? Cole's got a thing for her." This guy is the exact opposite of 'Cole', (AKA angel boy). Yeah, with his pitch black hair , even darker eyes and cruel smile, he looks way more like the devil. Cole has something strangely cute about him. Something broken.
Wow. That was deep. I swear, it's these boys, they're driving me crazy, bringing me right to the brink.
"Alyssa?" I have to resist the urge to smirk. I just can't wait to tell her frigid ass that one of these psychopath's has a thing for her.
Devil boy looks at Cole obviously amused, whereas Cole looks slightly murderous.
"Yeah. He wants to take her out for a dinner date." He flashes me a quick, sly smile, but drops it almost immediately.
"Blake, shut up." Cole says, but a small smirk appears on his lip and he shoves Devil Boy, I mean Blake, roughly.
Blake just laughs, yet again. Christ for someone with such gruesome tendencies and such a mean (but totally hot, just saying) face, he's pretty cheerful.
I gulp and turn my eyes back to Thorne. It's easier to focus on him, without getting sidetracked from his unfair godliness. Like, yeah sure, he's good looking with his dark hair and narrowed eyes that I swear are like purple or something, but he's also extremely creepy looking. He just has that aura too him, not dangerous, but, I don't know... sinister?
It just kind of wrecks the whole facade.
"Anyway," I say quickly, staring Thorne directly in the eye. "You need to fuck off."
What kind of name is Thorne? Weirdo.
Stupid-ass Thorne gives me a incredulous look and looks around to his group of nitwits and looks back at me.
"I do? You're the one who just came over to us, darling."
Darling? Darling? Who even says that anymore, apart from married couples and my grandpa? Yup, he's such a creep.
"I mean with sending us those notes." I step closer to him and give him what I hope is an intimidating glare. "If you think you scare me, you're wrong."
The smile Thorne gives, sends chills up my spine.
"Oh, but you should be."
Taking in a deep breath, my nostrils flare with the anger that flushes through me.
"Why is that, asshole?"
Leaning in so close that I can feel his icy cold breath blow against my face harshly, he looks quickly at my throat and then back up to my eyes.
"You have no idea what we're capable of."
What's that supposed to mean? Is he going to cut my throat or something? Oh, like that's scary.
Then, he grins eerily and steps away.
"We must be going now, football practise."
With one last concerned yet angrily narrowed glare from Cole, the boys all turn in unison and start walking towards the boys locker rooms. Blake winks at someone behind me, and when I look to see who, I notice that little one, Bonnie? No, Bobbie! Yeah, Bobbie, is standing there nervously a few feet behind me! Nibbling her lip anxiously her big brown eyes wide. She gives me a small wave.
I'm about to ask her what she's doing, when someone shouts my name.
"Oh, and Ebony?!" I spin back around to see Thorne a little further away. "Remember..."
Slowly, he brings his index finger to his lips, then rotates back to start walking with his buddies again.
Great talk, really great.