Desperado~ Rihanna
~G U M M Y W O R M S~
"She had completely lost herself."
"WHY DO I have to go to school, mama?" Blaise whined the morning of the first day of high school. She stayed at home for most of eighth grade, seeing as her dad had just died and she couldn't go through the whole day without crying, snapping at someone, or starting a fight.
"So you don't end up like the himarner in this neighborhood," she said as she searched for the old leather bag Blaise's father used to carry around. (Idiots) (Armenian)
Blaise groaned. "But there are plenty of himarner at school."
Her mother shrugged. "But most of them don't have a criminal record."
Blaise scowled before stomping into her room. She'd usually stomp up the stairs, but seeing as how she had to move from her old house into her dingy apartment, there aren't any stairs to stomp up.
She hated life ever since her dad died.
The next morning, Blaise stomped out from her room wearing some baggy, black sweatpants a dirty, grey hoodie, and her old combat boots. She plopped down onto the large bin that was at the small, crappy table, seeing as her mom had to sell all of their old furniture to buy the apartment and she couldn't afford any chairs. Her mother frowned at the sight of her moping daughter. Ever since her husband died, she stopped dressing like she used to and sold all of her bright, cute, old clothes to buy dark and dingy clothing from the thrift store.
"Good morning, Kindle," her mother greeted her softly.
Blaise shook her head. "It's Blaise," she mumbled.
Kindle felt a pang in her heart. "You don't like your name?"
Blaise glared at her. "Blaise is my name, okay?!" She snapped.
Kindle frowned. "I don't appreciate that tone, young lady."
"Well I don't appreciate that my dad got shot by some dumbass fucker who wanted some extra cash from a shitty gas station!" She yelled.
"Watch your mouth!" Kindle scolded.
"Fuck you!" Blaise yelled before stomping over to the door. She grabbed her bag and stormed outside of her house, slamming the door harshly after her.
Kindle flinched and swallowed the lump in her throat. She looked up at the ceiling and shook her head. "She's not the same, my love. She's... she's Blaise now."
Blaise made it school with only a few minutes to spare, seeing as she had to walk two miles. She trudged over to the main office, groaning loudly when she noticed that pretty much everyone was lined up to get their schedules. Not having the patience to wait, she just walked over to the cafeteria to get breakfast. Most of the kids were greeting their friends and chatting about their summer, so she didn't have to worry about a bunch of teens staring at her and her ugly attire. Her entire outfit had stains, dirt, and random holes so she looked homeless, or like she was on drugs.
I could go for some drugs right now. I don't want to deal with this place sober. Blaise thought as she grabbed an apple to eat, seeing as that was the cheapest thing to get besides water. It was her least favorite type of apple, a Granny Smith, but since she was so hungry from her long walk, she bought it anyway. Better a green apple than nothing.
Suddenly, a scrawny, tall boy sat next to Blaise. He was wearing jeans that were several sizes too big that had random stains and unintentional rips in them, two different shoes of different sizes, and a white shirt that looked grey. The only reason the jeans were staying up were because he took out the shoelaces of one of his shoes and tied it around his waist, which was also why one of his shoes was slipping off his feet.
He pointed to Blaise's apple. "How can you eat those? Aren't they too sour?"
Blaise turned to glare at him. "I'm hungry, dumbass."
He smirked at her. "Feisty, I like it."
Blaise looked him up and down. "Couldn't buy new clothes this year?"
He shook his head. "Nah. My mom has the money, she decided to spend it on alcohol instead of me." He pulled out half filled water bottle from his bag. "I thought it'd make sense if I stole some."
Blaise grinned. "You're cool," she said. She held out her hand. "I'm Ki—" she paused and looked down at her apple. "I'm Blaise. Blaise Nightshade."
The boy tilted his head to the side but didn't comment on her slip up. "Spencer. Spencer O'Reily."
"Like the auto part store?" Blaise's eyes widened. "Is your dad the owner or something?"
"You think I'd be wearing these shit clothes if my dad was the owner of a multimillion dollar auto part store?" Spencer scoffed. "My dickhead dad is the reason my mother is an alcoholic and why I have to deal with her all damn day."
Blaise's eyes softened. "I-I'm sorry." She looked at the bruises on his arms, the ones on his collar bone (which was really sticking out, probably because his mother didn't feed him), and the cut right under his right eye. She held her hand out. "Can I take a sip?"
Spencer gave her a look. After a few seconds, he shook his head. "Not a good idea. You look like a nice kid. I don't wanna be the guy who turns you into an alcoholic."
Blaise frowned. "Why do you have it then?"
"Spite." He put the bottle back in his bag. "Besides, alcohol makes you ugly," he looked her up and down. "You're too hot for it."
Blaise blushed. "Shut the fuck up. I don't like liars."
Spencer pouted. "But I'm not lying. You really are hot." He lowered his head. "Beautiful, even."
Blaise's eyes flicked over his face. Besides the scrawny body, the dirty clothes, and the bruises, Spencer was pretty cute too.
"Well... you're handsome, or whatever," Blaise mumbled.
If you want a man to feel special, call him handsome. We don't hear it very often. Blaise remembered her father saying.
Fortunately, the bell rang, bringing the two teens out of their awkward moment. Blaise quickly got up from her spot and walked over to the front office. The line was almost done so she just waited for five minutes until she got her schedule. When she got it, she speed-walked to her locker, put her unneeded books away, and ran over to her home room.
Once she got into her home room, everyone was already in their seats except for the teacher. Blaise sat in the back of the room, in the corner where the AC blew over whoever sat there and therefore was the coldest part of the room; meaning that no one sat near her. Blaise took out one of the extra notebooks that her mom had bought for her back in middle school, and started to doodle on the page. A few minutes passed by when the teacher came into the room. He greeted the class before starting attendance.
"...Blaise Nightshade," he listed off after he listed off a bunch of other students.
Just as Blaise was about to accidentally correct him to call her Kindle, she overheard some of her classmates talking about her.
"Nightshade? Isn't that the last name of that dead cop with the bitchy daughter?" One of the girls asked her friend.
Blaise snarled. That's all they have to say about my dad? He's just a random "dead cop"?
The girl's friend nodded. "I think so. Wasn't that girl a total jerk? I mean, I know her dad died or whatever, but she seriously needed to chill. She was so sad all the time, it was depressing."
"Right? Like, get over yourself. You're not the only person in the world with a dead dad. Just smile and move on."
Blaise ground her teeth together. Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Don't freak out. She chanted in her head.
"Blaise Nightshade? Are you here?" The teacher called again.
Blaise stood up from her seat. "I'm sorry I didn't answer. Apparently I'm the bitchy girl with the dead dad." She turned to glare at the two girls who were staring up at her in shock.
"Kindle?!" One of them gasped.
Blaise smirked. "Oh, so you do know who I am! Well, since you two seem so familiar, you must also know that I'm about to kick your ass."
"Miss Nightshade! We do not speak like that in school, nor do we threaten our classmates!"
The first girl who spoke stood up from her seat. "Especially when you're too weak to follow through with it," she said smugly.
Blaise's glare turned deadly. "It wasn't a threat, it was a promise." She started to make her way towards the hallway. "Let's take this outside. We don't want your friend to see you get the shit beat out of you, now do we?"
"I'd say the same to you but you don't have any friends," the girl spat back.
"Ladies, please calm down—" The teacher started.
"Shut up, Mr. Jacobs!" Blaise and the girl snapped and the same time.
The teacher, a six foot grown man, gulped in fear the ferocious look in Blaise's eyes and the challenging look in the girl's, whose name seemed to be Tiffany since her friend kept whispering for her to stop. By now, the entire class was intrigued and all of them were ready to see the two fight it out, especially the ones who'd seen Blaise fight before. The tales of her brawls were known throughout the students.
She even had groupies. Granted, they were silent groupies (since it was frowned upon to like a girl so mean) but they were groupies nonetheless.
Blaise stomped outside to the hallway, not even waiting to see if Tiffany was following her. When she got into the hallway, she pulled off her sweatshirt and her sweatpants. Tiffany gasped at that, but calmed down once she noticed that she was wearing a white cami top and pale yellow biker shorts under.
"Why did you take that off?" Tiffany wondered as she pulled off her hoop earrings and tied her hair back.
Blaise smirked. "I don't want to get any blood on my clothes. Well, any more blood on my clothes." The outfit that she was wearing underneath was the last of the clothes that she used to wear in seventh grade, so she didn't mind if they got blood on them. She wanted to forget who she was completely, since who she used to be was because of her dad.
Tiffany gulped nervously. She'd never been in a fight before. Not only that, but she had a feeling that Blaise was really good at what she did. Especially since an audience was starting to form, a lot of them giving Tiffany looks of pity while the rest looked just as confused.
"Are you gonna start or what?" Blaise wondered.
Tiffany narrowed her eyes before screaming and running towards her. She jumped into Blaise and tackled her onto the ground. Once she was straddling her, she slapped her face as hard as she could. Blaise's head snapped to the side and she frowned at the feeling of blood on her cheek. She looked at the hand that slapped her; Tiffany was wearing a ring.
Blaise smirked evilly. She fell right into my trap. "You'll never get in as much trouble if you don't hit first," her mom told her after she got expelled from the first middle school she went to after her dad died. Her mom wasn't encouraging her to fight, but since Blaise was, she would at least give her some good tips so she wouldn't have to get expelled again.
"Alright. You've got your first hit in," Blaise's dull, lifeless green eyes flared with anger. "Now you're going to pay for talking bad about my dad!" She yelled before grabbing her blouse and throwing her into the floor next to her.
Blaise jumped up from the ground and grabbed onto Tiffany's collar, dragging her up from the ground and slamming her back into the lockers. She grabbed her by the back of her head to hold her in place before she kneed her in the stomach. Tiffany whimpered in pain but Blaise didn't pay her any mind. She grabbed her by the shoulders, pushed her onto the ground, punched her right on the cheek. Blind by her fury, Blaise didn't even notice that Tiffany brought up her long, teal, acrylic nails and scratched her arm. So hard, in fact, that she broke skin. Blaise cursed and clutched onto her arm. She'd forgotten that the girl she was fighting had claws for nails. Tiffany took her chance to fight back and pushed Blaise off of her. The two girls stood up slowly, each of them sporting their own injuries, though one of them wasn't filled with any fear.
She was filled with rage.
Blaise let out a battle cry before sending a hard kick to Tiffany's chest. Not giving her a chance to breathe, Blaise continued to her rain of kicks onto the poor girl. Kick, kick, roundhouse, crane kick, kick, ki— Blaise couldn't even understand what she was doing at that point. Did she want her dead? Did she want to send her to the hospital? Did she just want her to go home with a couple bruises? She didn't know. She was just so angry that she couldn't figure out what was going on anymore.
Tiffany fell onto the ground, looking just about ready to pass out. "What was it that you said earlier? That I should get over my father's death? That I should just suck it up and smile?" She kicked her shin. "FUCK YOU! I will not fucking smile and move on! I will never move on!"
She couldn't even hear the kid's cheers, Tiffany's friend's screams of terror, the teachers trying to get everyone away. She couldn't even see the kids phones, their faces of surprise, or the fact that they were making bets. She couldn't even feel the blood trickling down her arm or cheek, or that her stomach probably had a bruise on it since Tiffany pushed her so hard. She was in her own world. She was so angry, so enraged, so furious that she couldn't even tell who she was or what she was doing.
She had completely lost herself.
And if that wasn't enough, on her first day she would be known as the kid not to mess with. She would be feared by many and hated by all. She would become an outcast, a bad girl, a hoodlum. She wasn't like the rest of the kids living in a safe neighborhood with enough money to buy new clothes and groceries. No, she was poor now, angry now, numb now.
It wasn't until strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist and lifted her off the floor did Blaise realize she was she standing there, tears running down her cheeks as she glared at Tiffany's limp body.
"Just as I thought," a deep voice mumbled. "You can't hold your own against someone stronger than you." Blaise could tell that whoever was talking was older than a freshman, since he had tattoos on his forearms, was really tall (she was quite high off the ground), and his voice was too deep to be that of a fourteen year old's.
"What is going on here?!" Mrs. Dalton screamed.
The students immediately ran back to their classes, most still excited from the fight they just witnessed. Tiffany's friend ran up to the principal with tears in her eyes.
"Blaise just killed my best friend!" She wailed. "We didn't even do anything to her and she just started punching and kick-" Blaise broke free from the arms around her waist and stomped forward.
"That's not fu— freaking true! You guys were making fun of my late father and calling me a bi— female dog because I was sad and angry. Not to mention, your friend here hit me first! What I did is considered self-defense," Blaise argued. With the blood on her face and arm and the bruises on her stomach and back, she had enough proof to show that Tiffany put up a fight and that Blaise just finished it.
Mrs. Dalton sighed and rubbed her eyes tiredly. She'd heard plenty of Blaise's fights and how she always sends her victims to the hospital, she just didn't know that it was this bad. Tiffany looked like she was in the verge of death!
She turned to Mr. Jacobs. "Is that true? Were the girls making fun of her father and did Tiffany hit her first?"
Mr. Jacobs nodded his head. "Yes. Both girls were saying rude things, thinking that Blaise couldn't hear them, and Tiffany even taunted Blaise by calling her weak. But, Blaise was the one to challenge her to a fight, so both girls knew a fight was going to happen. Tiffany just happened to hit first."
Mrs. Dalton groaned. "I don't get paid enough for this," she grumbled. "Alright, so I'm going to give you both detention for two weeks," she pointed to Blaise and Tiffany's friend, "and Tiffany will have detention for three."
Blaise smirked while Tiffany's friend started to protest. Mrs. Dalton waved her away and pointed to Blaise.
"Help Tiffany up and go to the nurse so you two can get checked up. Now I have to go and call all three of your parents," with that said, Mrs. Dalton walked back over to her office.
Blaise grabbed Tiffany's leg and dragged her over to the nurse's office. Tiffany's friend didn't even offer to help her, instead she was too busy crying about her "permanent record". Once Blaise got to the nurse's office, she dropped Tiffany outside the door and walked in, leaving the unconscious girl in the hallway. Blaise signed into the sign-up sheet and sat down in a waiting chair. The kid there who had a slight fever looked at her in fear and awe. Rightfully so, since she was sitting there bloody and bruised and looking bored out of her mind.
The nurse, Mrs. Holland, who just went by Ms Holland since it was easier for kids to remember, looked up from her work on the computer and gasped at the sight of Blaise. She ran into the waiting room and looked at the sign-in sheet. When she saw that Blaise was after the boy who was "feeling a bit funny" she looked over to him and gave him an apologetic smile.
"Sorry, hun. But she's in worse condition and I think I should help her first. Is that alright?" She told the boy.
He nodded his head, though not too hard since he felt as if he would throw up if he moved too much. "That's alright. I can wait a bit longer."
Blaise shook her head. "He was here first."
"But—" Ms. Holland stopped herself at the look that Blaise gave her. She sighed and shook her head. This girl. "Alright then." She turned to the boy who was starting to look a lot more pale and sick. "Come on into my office, sweetheart."
After he was done with his check-up, Ms. Holland concluded that it was best for him to go home and rest for a day or two, seeing as he had some sort of stomach bug. Once he left to go and pack up his stuff, Blaise walked into a room with a small cot. She sat down and looked at her arm. The blood had dried up now, but there was still a bit of bleeding. She couldn't tell about her face, but from what she was feeling, that cut was already starting to heal itself. Sure, it would take a while, but it wasn't hat big or deep to begin with. She'd say by next week it would be fine.
"Are you one of the girls who was in that fight just now?" Ms. Holland asked as she brought out some bandages, band-aids, cotton, and antiseptic.
Blaise gave her a tired look. She wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone anymore. She was already tired and first period had just started. The class that she was going to miss, seeing as she had to get patched up and probably changed out of her bloody clothes.
"I'll take that as a yes. Isn't there supposed to be another young lady here with you?" Ms. Holland questioned.
Blaise nudged her head in the direction of the hallway, but didn't answer her otherwise.
Ms. Holland sighed as she put her gloves on. She could tell that this girl was going to be harder to talk to than she thought. She poured a bit of antiseptic into a cotton pad and walked up to Blaise. She held her arm and looked to the raven-headed girl.
"This'll hurt a bit, sweetie," she warned.
Blaise just stared ahead at the wall in front of her. Ms. Holland shook her head softly and carefully cleaned up the wound in her arm. At first sight, Blaise showed no reaction. But since Ms. Holland was so close to her, she could see and feel her muscles tensing and her jaw clenching. She was just trying to act tough, even though she was in pain.
Ms. Holland had a feeling that she did that a lot.
Once she was done cleaning up her wound, Ms. Holland wrapped a bandage around her entire bicep. She then moved to clean the wound on her face, which actually brought out an audible reaction from Blaise, and put a band-aid on it. She then went over to her desk and got a lollipop from the little jar that she kept near her computer. She walked back into the room and handed Blaise the treat.
"Here you go, hun. This is for being so good while I cleaned your wounds. I know that that stuff stings."
Blaise glanced at the candy. She wasn't very fond of lollipops, but she decided to take it anyway. She then got up from her spot on the cot and walked out of the nurse's office. Ms. Holland was about to call after her to ask if for her mother's number so she could inform her about what happened, but she stopped herself when she saw Tiffany laying on the outside of her door. She gasped and looked up to see that Blaise was already gone.
"That girl is a mystery," she muttered to herself, bending down to drag Tiffany into her office.
~••~
THE NEXT day, Blaise walked in wearing a pair of black leggings and a cute, grey sweater. It wasn't the clothes that she bought at the thrift store, but the clothes that her groupies left in her locker the day before, along with a note telling her that she did a good job in the fight.
She strolled into the cafeteria and saw that Spencer was already sitting at the table with two trays of breakfast. She walked over to him and sat down.
"Why do you have two breakfasts?" Blaise questioned.
Spencer smiled in greeting. "I'm a growing boy, I need the extra calories." He joked. When Blaise gave him a deadpan look, he rolled his eyes. "No sense of humor, I see." He slid the tray over to her. "I stole fifty bucks from my mom's bag yesterday. Decided that I wasn't going to go hungry this year and actually put money into my lunch account. I saw that you only had an apple yesterday, so I decided to get you a breakfast."
Blaise pushed the breakfast back to him. "Thank you for caring, but no thanks. It's your money, meaning that it's your food."
"But I won't be able to eat all of this," Spencer reasoned. He was right. He barely got to eat that much in a day ever, so he wouldn't be able to eat all of it for himself in one sitting.
Blaise dug into her bag and grabbed a random plastic bag. She handed it over to him and smiled softly. "Now you can have breakfast for lunch."
Spencer frowned. "But what about you?"
Blaise rolled her eyes. "I don't need it, Spence. I'm alright."
Spencer's eyes lit up at the sound of his new nickname. He hadn't had a friend in years, considering the fact that his best friend was murdered when he was eight years old. He was a little black boy with a dad in some bad stuff, so the gang killed him to get to his dad. Spencer had tried to become friends with others, but no one was as spunky and fierce as his friend.
No one until Blaise.
"Is that my new nickname?" He teased.
Blaise blushed slightly but nodded anyway. "Yeah. I usually give nicknames to my friends."
Spencer smiled brightly. "So, we're friends?"
Blaise played with her fingers. "Only if you want to be."
Spencer nodded vigorously. "Yes please!"
Blaise giggled. "Okay. We're friends."
Later that day, Blaise was getting out of the shower from PE and went over to her locker. She put on her little training bra and underwear and reached in for her leggings. When she couldn't find them, she looked inside and saw that the rest of her clothes were gone, even her sweaty PE uniform.
"Of course," Blaise grumbled under her breath. "Because my luck isn't shit enough without any clothes."
She slammed her locker shut. She looked extra scary with a cut on her face and a (new) bandage on her arm. Everyone in the room flinched are the loud sound, each of the girls stopping their conversations to see what was going on.
"Who the fuck stole my goddamn clothes?!" Blaise screeched.
As soon as she said that, she heard quiet giggles from the other side of the locker room. If it weren't for her dad's training that he gave her when she was younger, she wouldn't have been able to hear them. She stormed over to the other side and stood there with her arms crossed, coming face to face with three of Tiffany's friends.
"Give me my fucking clothes back," Blaise growled out.
The girls stopped their giggling in shock and looked up to see an underwear clad Blaise glaring at them.
Tiffany's friend, the one who had two weeks detention and whose name was Vivi, was the first one to speak.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said smugly.
"I'm in a thong and a bra right now, Vivi. This is clearly not the outfit I came into school with," Blaise held out her hand. "Give me my clothes, and no one gets hurt."
Vivi looked her up and down. "You don't have enough boobs for that to classify as a bra and your 'thong' barely shows anything, not that you have much to show." Vivi smirked. "And if you want your clothes back," she held up her middle finger. "You'll have to ask my little friend here."
Blaise glared down at her finger. "If you keep pointing that thing up at me I'll break it," she warned.
Thankfully, Vivi took her threat seriously and put down her middle finger. Blaise moved forward towards the other girls; one was holding her gym uniform, and one was holding her clothes for the day. But Blaise didn't even take a full step forward before she was pushed into a locker by Vivi, hitting her injured arm on a lock. She hissed in pain and clutched her arm while Vivi giggled at her discomfort.
"It seems as if the only one who's gotten hurt is you, Kindle," Vivi taunted, purposefully calling her her middle name even when Blaise told everyone who called her that that her name was Blaise.
Blaise snarled at Vivi and tackled her onto the ground. She straddled Vivi's stomach and clutched both of her wrists over her head.
"Give me my clothes back!" She yelled.
You might be thinking "Why is she asking Vivi for her clothes when her friends are the ones who have them?" And that's a valid question, it makes sense. But what you don't know is that Blaise has a plan. A simple one, sure, but a plan nonetheless.
Vivi struggled under Blaise's hold. "Let go of me!" She whined.
Vivi's friends quickly dropped Blaise's clothes and moved to get her off of their friend. As soon as they were close enough, Blaise hopped off of Vivi and swung her leg underneath their feet, causing them to fall onto their butts. She straightened up, dusted the fake dust off of her shoulders, grabbed her clothes, and went over to her locker to change.
Once she was done, the teacher came in with a scowl on her face at the sight of Vivi's friends groaning in pain and Vivi with a scarred look on her face. She scolded the girls about "monkeying around" but they explained themselves and said that "Blaise attacked them for no reason." The teacher asked everyone else if that was true, and no one answered for about twenty seconds until two girls (who are some of Blaise's mystery groupies) stood up for Blaise and told the teacher that they stole her clothes, and that she just had to grab them back using force— after she asked "nicely" of course.
The teacher believed them, since everyone else in the class started to agree with the girls, and took Vivi and company to the principal's office. Blaise thanked the girls and left the class, since she had lunch with Spencer. As she was walking out of the class, she noticed that her arm was throbbing in pain from all of the movement. She decided to go the nurse's office to ask for some Advil. Spencer would have to wait a bit to eat lunch.
When she got to the nurse's office, there was another girl sitting there with a sweatshirt under her butt and a tear-stained face. Blaise quickly realized that she had gotten her period and that her pants were stained, hence the sweatshirt and tears. Blaise then remembered the lollipop that she kept in her boots, and took it out.
"Do you like lollipops?" She asked.
The girl nodded with a sniffle. "Y-yeah."
Blaise held her hand out. "I'll trade you."
The girl dug through her purse and pulled out a pack of sour gummy worms. "I'll trade you for these. I don't really like them."
Blaise's eyes widened comically and she started to bounce in her seat. "Deal!" She cheered, handing the girl her lollipop and taking the pack of gummy worms gleefully. She ripped open the pack and plopped an orange and green one in her mouth. Contrary to popular opinion, those ones were her favorite, not the blue and red ones.
As this interaction was happening, Ms. Holland watched the happy gleam in Blaise's eyes. She looked like a little kid while she was eating those gummy snacks. Ms. Holland made sure to make a note of that. She didn't know why, but she wanted to help that girl. Blaise just looked so tired, like she was ready to sleep for five years.
So she likes gummy worms, huh? I'll make sure to remember that for next time. Ms Holland thought.
The next day, Blaise got into another fight. This time a girl was making fun of her clothes. "Your dad dying must of really hit hard, huh? Your poor mommy can't even buy you nice clothes."
Needless to say, Blaise snapped and challenged her to a fight. The girl had about nine inches on her, standing at a towering height of five-foot-ten, but Blaise wouldn't back down. No one made fun of her family and got away with it.
Unfortunately, though, the girl happened to take Tae Kwon Do, and was pretty damn good at it too. Blaise won, of course, but she was badly beat up. She had a black eye, a bloody nose, a busted lip, a sprained wrist, and a sore tailbone.
When she went to the nurse's office, Ms. Holland almost had a heart attack. The small girl looked horrible. She was going to call her mom, but Blaise told her that she was too busy working and that she already had enough on her plate. So, despite what her gut was telling her, Ms. Holland didn't call her mom and tended to her injuries.
When Blaise was all patched up, Ms. Holland went over to her drawer and held up a bag of gummy worms.
"Do you think you could tell me why you got into a fight this time?" Ms. Holland asked.
Blaise pouted. She really didn't want to talk about the fight. She hated the fact that her life wasn't the same anymore. Her mom was always working, she was always getting into the fights, they fought all the time, her old clothes were gone, she could only see her dad in pictures... or at the cemetery. Everything was just hard.
But she really wanted those gummy worms.
Blaise sighed. "My dad died last year, so we moved here in eighth grade because my mom couldn't afford our old house anymore. I sold all of my old clothes and got these ones instead, so now people make fun of me for them." She held out her hands. "Can I have my gummy worms now?"
Ms. Holland held in her tears. She nodded her head and handed the small girl the bag of sugary snacks. This poor girl. "Here you go sweetheart."
Blaise bounced in her seat as she ate her gummy worms, oblivious to the fact that the nurse in front of her was one of the many who had made a special place in their heart for her.
5683 words! Wow! I'm on vacation in Florida rn for my cousin's 16th birthday, so I might not be able to write that much for a few days. But I hope this long chapter is enough for you guys!