I paced around my room guiltily for two more hours before a honk sounded from outside my window. I stopped, all guilt vanishing as I wondered whether or not it was my ride, showing up late as per usual.
My silent question was answered when a voice called my name from outside. I set my phone on my bed and walked over to the window, opening it to see who all was out there. My eyes searched for awhile before they landed on a black convertible, stocked full of about ten people.
"Whatcha waitin' fo'?" The voice that had called my name called up again. "We gotta get goin'! The store 'bout to close, an' when i' does, 'e can' ge' our-"
"Jus' shuddup al'eady!" The driver snapped at the guy shouting up to my window. "The 'ole town don needa know what we doin', stupid."
"Yeah, 'ell 'hey ain't gonna care 'un bit, asshole. I shot a guy, 'unce, and 'is 'un dude ain't even gave a care 'bout it! And 'e saw da 'ole thang!"
I felt my eye twitch at the way they spoke to each other. Their sense of gramma really irked me. The talked as though they had never been to school before. But I knew that was wrong. They drove me to and from the local college everyday, and I had several classes with these imbeciles. The only time they didn't talk like an uneducated old man who had his teeth knocked out was when their parents were around. They called it "the rich tongue", where they spoke and acted like hooligans around each other, but acted civilized and well-mannered around their parents.
I mean, yeah, I'm just as rich as these guys, and I may act like a hooligan from time to time. But would I ever talk like that? Ha!
No.
My eyes landed on a blonde girl, whose brown eyes were looking up at me expectantly. I felt my insides churn, but I nodded. "Yeah. Give me a sec so I can get ready."
I closed my window before the people I called my friends could shout some more rebellious-rich slang up into my room. I walked towards my closet, whereupon I pulled out my street shoes (yes, I have multiple pairs of shoes for different things. I don't ask for it, my mom just makes me.) and slipped them on. Opening my bedroom door, I walked down the hall and to the stairs, sliding down the winding rail. With my family gone, I could do whatever the heck I wanted.
Ah. Freedom. It was a blissful thing to me back then.
I opened the door and was immediately greeted by a chilly Salem fall wind. I thought about going back inside to grab a coat, but the thought vanished when my name was shouted again. Closing and locking the door behind me, I made my way to the black vehicle.
The blonde I had noticed earlier began to shoo everybody away to clear a spot for me next to her. She smiled sweetly at me, ignoring the groans of complaints from the other guys in the car. I forced a small smile back as I hopped in and sat next to her.
Immediately she leaned over and kissed me. "You were starting to make me worry, Jimmie." She told me softly in my ear.
I pulled away at the name she used for me. "Don't call me that, Heather." I growled. Only Calla could call me that. Only my flower. Even though I still hated it when she did, I was not going to allow anybody else call me Jimmie. "You know how much I hate it."
She smiled sweetly and gave me another kiss on my lips. "Okay... Jimmie."
I frowned and pulled out of the kiss, looking away. Heather made a noise of complaint as the convertible we were riding in pulled away from my house, but I ignored it. I wasn't about to pity her wanting to kiss me. Her calling me Jimmie made me mad at her as it was. I wasn't going to dilute my anger with a kiss.
"James!" One of the guys in the car shouted. I blinked and looked up. We were parked in the middle of a relatively empty parking lot in front of a drug store. "Go do yo' thang, man!"
I sighed and pried myself away from Heather. Getting up, I hopped over a few people to leave the convertible. "Be careful, Jimmie!" Heather called after me. I waved my hand at her, brushing her words away as I began to make my way towards the drugstore.
"Grab us a 'ix pack!" One of the guys called from the car. "Eight o' 'em!"
"He'll grab as 'any as 'e 'an ge' us wi'ou' gettin' caught, idiot." Another guy said.
I ignored them as I continued to make my way towards the drugstore. I couldn't believe that I was doing this for them. That I've been doing this ever since I met them. Te first time I had done this was at the camp for demigods, and the camp director had just about murdered me when he found out that I was to blame.
I pushed away all unease and opened the door to the drug store, entering it and preparing myself for the worst that was to come.
...
So about updates on this story. I'm going to be updating every Monday and Thursday. Okay? Okay. Peace.
