I bent down into a crouch.
"Are you sure this is worth it?" She whispered softly to Lila.
"Yes!" She whispered back.
I tugged at the strap of her faded blue tank top. I was a sixth grader in Brooklyn heights Middle school, and I was currently helping my best friend get revenge on her ex.
I rolled her eyes. "Aren't you taking this a bit too far?" She asked.
Lila didn't answer. Her hateful gaze was directed at Justin Belegard, who was strutting out of his homeroom just then.
"Tip," Lila said, her stare unwavering. "Never trust a guy who's first name is the same as the most horrible male singer on earth."
I snort. "Yeah. Got it, because I was planning to date a guy named Micheal."
Lila lunged at Justin. Her so-called plan was not very organized. I hop up after her anyway. She's running across the hall.
"You!" Lila screamed in a way that made me wince. Justin's head jolted up guiltily.
"Lila, I thought we went over this," Justin says nervously, inching away. His black converse sneakers squeaked on the linoleum hallway.
"WENT OVER THIS?!" Lila's voice is blasting around the hallway like she's on the loudspeaker. "You basically explained that you found another girl, you need to go now, and have a good life, you idiot!"
Justin winces. "Sweet-"
Lila's voice is up to the dangerous point where I wouldn't be surprised if a mirror broke somewhere. God, that girl has a set of lungs. I clutch at me ears as she screams like some crazy fan at a rock band. "DON'T CALL ME SWEET, MORON!"
A blonde girl called Payton turns the corner.
"Excuse me, I'm on hallway monitor duty. I hear a riot going on, and judging from my list, this hallway should be empty by now."
I look around and realize that it is, except for Justin and a few guys in his gang.
Justin rushes over. "Payton!" He cries, relieved. I don't blame the guy.
Payton's face softens, and she hugs Justin back. They link hands and slip away.
Lily's eyes are flaming towards me now. "You were supposed to help, not stand around!" She hissed in a dangerously low voice. i hold up my hands to protect my face.
"Loser," she sneers, and walks away, nose in the air.
I sigh. Middle school drama.
What can I say?