Sorry I took so long, but I'm sick and I'm pretty upset. Today's song is Footloose by Kenny Loggins. I've written this for a month. P.S Brad is Brad from when I first posted if you read what I wrote in italics.
Brat skipped into the detention room humming, as if she was six again. She never looked happier. However, looks can be deceiving, especially with Brat. The word could be ending and you can hear her singing, 'Hey There Delilah'. Never expect her to be content just because there was a grin plastered to her face. If anything expect someone to get punched by her in the next hour.
She looked around the room and spotted and red-headed boy sitting by a boy of the Brade age with black hair and a boy with brown hair sitting across for them silently drumming and a boy with platinum blonde hair with his headphones in and eyes closed, not really caring who saw him. My boys, she thought smiling. She tapped the brunette on his shoulder and waved at him. He smiled showing off his bright white teeth, flipped his brown hair out of his lilac eyes, and winked in response. Soon the red-head and the raven haired boys turned and smiled, each in their own way. The raven haired boy gave a flirty smile, one she received all of the time, and the red-head gave a shy half-smile. The platinum boy didn't bother to turn around but gave her the middle finger as if to say Told you we'd get caught. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a blonde haired boy look at her with wide cobalt blue eyes. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Blaine! How are you?" she chirped. In all honesty, she couldn't care less about Mrs. Blaine. She hated the teacher, not as much as Bubbles or her mom, but hated her all the Brade. Mrs. Blaine turned from the chalkboard and smiled.
Her red hair draped over her shoulders like a blanket as she talked about her day. Brat looked into her big, jade eyes and glared at them hatefully. Mrs. Blaine took no note to this and continued to move her thin pink lips, spewing perky word after word out. Brat smiled when she finished talking and took her seat. She always sat in the Brade seat. The one in the back of the classroom, closest by the door. If there was ever a fire, which there were plenty of (mainly started by her and her friends), she would be the first one out and home. She listened to Mrs. Blaine's lecture on what it meant to be a 'good' student, and how she didn't think they were 'bad' children, just misguided. She then decided to zone out and put in her blue ear buds. I'm not gonna ever be a good student so stop trying to change me, she thought hatefully, and I'm not a child anymore. I stopped being one when I turned seven. She was going to loathe these next few days with her. She sighed and put her feet upon the table and closed her eyes. Just as her favorite song by Evanscence played, Mrs. Blaine tapped her shoulder and gently pulled her ear buds out. "Bridgette," Brat grimaced as her birth name was said. "Please listen to me and take your feet off of my tables," said Mrs. Blaine in her naturally nasal voice that irritated Brat to no end.
"I'll take my feet down and listen when you get rid of that voice and stop boring me," Brat said in a clear, snappish way. Brat smirked proudly, while Mrs. Blaine's jade eyes widened as the people in the class turned around. Noticing those piercing blue eyes on her in shock and awe made Brat giggle. Mrs. Blaine batted her eyes in embarrassment as the bell rang. Brat smiled at her sweetly and said with honey practically dripping from her voice, "I'll seem you tomorrow, ma'am. Have a nice evening," with that Brat went over to the door to meet up with the brunette, red-head, blonde and black-haired boys. "Hey guys," she said as they walked out. The black-haired boy smiled and tried to put his hand in her pocket. "Not today, Butch. Try Brute or Robin," Brat said moving closer to the boy with the platinum blonde hair.
Butch faked a frown, smiled and said, "Already tried. Robin threatened to burn my house down and Brute gave me a black eye last month." The brown-haired boy loudly laughed at him, earning a glare. "It's not funny Mitch!" Butch exclaimed, which only made the red-head finally give in and laugh. Brat and the platinum haired boy had to cover their mouths to keep from bursting into a fit on giggles and chuckles. Butch let out an exasperated sigh and leaned against the wall. Mitch, who finally calmed down from his laughter fest put an apologetic hand on his dear friend's shoulder. Slowly the red-head and the two blondes calmed down.
"Hey," said Mitch to Butch, "maybe you can try Brick's twin sister. She's hot-"
"Don't finish that sentence if you like living," the red-head known as Brick said while glaring, "Berserk isn't interested and if you ever mention her name again I swear she'll murder you and I'll cover it up. Clear?" It was known that Brick's twin sister, Bianca (who earned the nickname Berserk for her berserk behaviour), was way off-limits. Usually when guys hit on her she tried to hit them with her brother's truck. Even though he didn't care for how the guys ended up, he did care for his truck, so with much regret toward his sister for letting her down, he hides his keys from her. Mitch and Butch knew that Brick cared more for his sister than he'd like to admit so the two constantly tease his about how unbelievably gorgeous and sexy his sister was. Brick didn't need people knowing that he actually loves his parents. It would probably ruin his sisters school life if everyone knew that she wasn't as independent as she claimed to be. Being protected was not her style.
"Crystal," Mitch said, batting his lilac eyes which he was ashamed of. He convinced himself that light purple was a color that he shouldn't have...especially with his reputation. He was known as the 'bad guy' in school and that's how he wanted to stay. He lived with his grandmother and little sister in an apartment complex around the corner from the cemetary and it was rumored that he often visited. That rumor wasn't true though. I have better things to do than sit with a bunch of dead people, he would say when someone talked about it, even though it wasn't true. Even so, he was still the toughest guy around and had very few friends, and a few followers (mainly girls). Having soft, beautiful lilac eyes almost set him back. Almost. He punched anyone who ever mentioned his eyes. So what if they were pretty? Lots of tough things are pretty! he would say when one of his friends would mention them. "Besides, Bradley here already called dibs," he said snarkly. The male blonde immediately paled at this statement. He didn't really care what anyone thought of him and few people, such as Brat and Brick, knew much about him. Mitch knowing this dirty little secret was something he definitely did not see coming.
"What?!" both Bradley and Brick asked. Bradley kept mainly to himself and rarely anyone knew anything about him, besides his first name, which was usually yelled by angry teachers. He was a slacker and didn't really care much about what other people thought of them. In fact, he didn't care much about other people. As long as he had his drums and his best friend, Brat, he was all right. Often times, he would let his true powers show, just for the hell of it. It would freak people out and that's what he wanted. He didn't even bother to get a 'B' nickname, much like Mitch. Brat often said that if he did, it'd probably be Blaze. His snow-white eyes, which he could blame Brat for, widened ten fold. Mitch and Brick noticed this and as Mitch snickered, Brick scowled.
"Dude, this is not cool!" Brick said as they walked out. "She's not date-able."
"Shouldn't she decide that?" a loud voice said. Brick and Bradley both sighed at the sound of it. It was high-pitched and eerie but soft and silky. It belonged to none other than Bianca 'Berserk' Sanders. She made her way to her brothers and close friends and put her arm over Brat's shoulder. "Because I'm sure she's pretty and smart and talented and an awesome tattoo artist..." she rambled on, knowing full and well who 'she' was. "But she might or might not want a boyfriend. You'll never know." Brad smiled at her and Brick glared. She simply batted her long, naturally orange eyelashes and smiled brightly. "So are we going home today or what? I got stuff to do," she asked walking to her brothers car. She would've driven her own, but that would mean spending money on gas and she was living in her own personal recession. Everyone figured when she got out, she would still be broke.
"What kind of stuff? Painting your nails with Brute and Robin while spying on Brick and Blossom?" Butch asked. She can't be in a hurry, all she does is spy and play the piano for some songs we play, he thought.
"We don't paint Brute's nails...while she's awake. Believe it or not, I have a date!" Berserk squealed. Slowly, a smile creeped upon Brat's face. A frown formed on Brick and Brad's face. It hurt knowing the girl you liked had a date tonight with someone besides you. Of course, he didn't let it show and soon that frown became a scowl, the Brade one he wore everyday. Whatever, he thought. "So can we go already?" Berserk asked, ignoring Brat's never-ending questions. Brick's frown deepened, but he walked over to the car anyway. "Bye! I'll text you Brat," she said skipping to her brother's red truck. Brick sulked behind her.
"Bye," Brick mumbled. Brat waved and continued walking with Mitch, Brad and Butch. Brad heaved a heavy sigh and leaned on the hard exterior of the school. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Brat sighed and leaned next to him. Butch took this as a sign to get ready to leave. Sadly he couldn't without getting his butt blasted by Brat. He was her ride.
"You like her don'tcha?" she inquired. Truthfully, she was aware of Brad affections for her close friend. She just wanted to hear him say it himself. It was something she liked doing, having other people prove her points before she makes them. Brad took the cigarette out of his mouth and smiled. He knew his best friend better than she knew herself and vise versa. Seeing those shimmering blue eyes stare into his snow-white ones he knew where she was going with this. He knew she was going to make him admit to having feelings and being in love and all that other junk. She snickered and he put the cigarette back in his mouth and inhaled. "I know you do and you know you do too. Dude, don't give up on her. We know she's awesome, but she's...well, you know. You don't have to tell her exactly but you do have to drop some really big hints. It'll be worth it in the long run," she said in a sure tone. He half-smiled at her and petted her head, something he always did but she never liked it. It only reminded her of how short she was.
"Whatever, Brat. I get it. I gotta to tell her or she'll be gone and all that other junk," he said in a bored tone.
"No, you don't get it. You never get it. Trust me on this. I know what I'm talking about. I promise," she said.
"Didn't you say that when we played in your mom's lab when we were ten?" Brat chuckled nervously and rubbed her knuckles.
"I said sorry! I didn't know that we'd end up all weird and super powery and shit. Besides, you know you love it," Brat said with apologetics eyes. Brad rolled his and gave her a half-hug.
"I do love them." Brat smiled at him and a horn honked. She rolled her eyes and flipped off the driver which only made him honk again. "You gotta go. I'll call ya after the show," Brad said while pushing her to the car. She smiled and started walking toward her ride. She got into the passenger's side and smiled.
"Somone's patient," she remarked to Butch who simply tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
"Someone's gotta get their car out of the shop," he said back while smirking. Brat huffed and crossed her arms. "Give up, Piggy-tails?" he asked mockingly. She chuckled but held her hand over her mouth so he wouldn't see. "Saw that. I win," he said in a smart-aleck tone. She giggled freely and shook her blonde, pig tails.
"The only reason I hang out with you is because you have a nice ass," she said smiling.
"Ditto," he said driving down her street. He slowed down when he saw the dark blue Chevrolet Cruze Sedan sitting in the driveway. Brat's jaw dropped in surprise. This was not what she was expecting. Why did she do this? Brat wondered with her anger rising. "That wasn't here this morning," Butch said in a monotone voice. He was just as surprised as Brat was when he saw the car but he chose not to show it. He was the school's flirt and very unpredictable. The only person who knew what he was going to do was Brute Asedus, his self-proclaimed worst nightmare. She is the only girl who he's never made-out with (besides Brat who he claims isn't a girl.) "You can get out anytime, you know." he said. Brat did so and stormed into her house.
She was greeted by a young, blonde, green-eyed woman whom she calls, Miranda. "Do you like it?" Miranda squealed. Brat's frown deepened.
"Why?" Brat asked, truly curious.
"Why what, Bridgette?"
"My name's not Bridgette, it's Brat and why did you get the car. I would've had the money for it in a month," Brat said in a flat voice.
"I guess the answers can't be because I love you, can it?" Brat lowly growled at her. "Guess not. Can it be because your my da-"
"Don't say it. Your not my mother, just my parent. Mom died when Dad did. Tell me the real reason you did it," Brat demanded. She wasn't playing any games with this woman. She wasn't her mother nor her friend. She was simply a person who lived with her. Her mom wouldn't just forget about the guy she married. Her mom wouldn't just leave her alone when she felt depressed. Her mom wouldn't need an excuse to say I love you. "Tell me already!" Miranda's smile faded. Her dimples ceased to exist and she sighed deeply looking down at her hands and figiting with her knuckles.
"You hate me, don't you?" Miranda asked. She already knew the answer, but she thought that maybe this once, she would get a definite answer. When she asked the question, Brat would smile and say something along the lines of 'You figure that out,' or 'Maybe. Maybe I just don't like you. Maybe I hate your fucking guts,' and most of the time, 'I don't love you nor like you. Are you smart enough to do the math?' She hoped that one day Brat would have the guts to either, lie to her face and say, 'I love you, mom!' or tell the truth and say 'Yes, I hate you.'
However, Brat rolled her eyes and said, "I'm not doing this right now."
"Please? I ask you this nearly everyday and you never give me a clear answer," Miranda begged. Brat felt her anger rise and her patience was wearing thin. Miranda had better be done with this, Brat thought. Of course, she had to be wrong. "It's always maybe. I want a yes or a no. Do you, Bridgette"
"MY NAME'S NOT BRIDGETTE!" Brat suddenly exploded. Miranda felt her pale green eyes widen when Brat yelled. "My name's not Bridgette," she repeated in a calmer voice. "Miranda, sit down." Miranda did as she was told and sat down on the pale green couch. Shockingly, Brat sat beside her. "I don't know how many times I've told my name. I'm not Bridgette. I'm Brat, Brat Marie Plutonium. As for this hate thing, I can't say I hate you," Miranda's eyes lit up with a tiny glimmer of hope. She looked into her daughter's overly large blue irises, due to neglectful parenting and a curious mind, expecting to see them sparkle and shine. Her hopes were diminished when Brat turned away and stood up. "But I think I do. I don't like you, that's for sure. Maybe I just dislike you. I'm not sure, yet. You infuriate me, irritate me, and you definitely don't like the way I am. Well, I'm not changing for anybody. Including you." Miranda tore her gaze from her teenager and down to the floor. A silent tear escaped her eye. Brat pretended not to notice but she did. She sighed and sat down. "Mom-Miranda," she began sympathetically. I like me. Just the way I am. I'm not trying to hurt you in any way. It's just hard dealing with everything, you know? I'm alone here."
"No you're not," Miranda said immediately. She knew exactly what she was referring to.
"Yeah, I am."
"No, you're not," Miranda insisted. "I'm always here for you."
"No you're not. You're gone. Every-fucking-time I needed you, you were gone. When I wasn't okay, you up and leave! Do you even care if I'm alone, crying myself to sleep? What about when I cut myself when I saw 15? Did you know? Did you care? Do you care? I doubt it. So don't you ever say that you're here for me, knowing you never were," Brat snapped. She said it so quickly that Miranda couldn't interrupt. Miranda looked at her, dumbfounded. "How much did you pay for the car?" Brat changed the subject.
"What?"
"The car, how much was it?"
"$17,000. Why? It's yours. I bought it because you needed it. You got a new position and need to be there every night, you'll need a car to get you back and forth."
"It's not mine, yet. YOU bought it. It's yours. I put up $17,130 for a car. I'll buy it off you." Miranda smiled. The two were actually having a civil conversation. She couldn't be happier.
"'Kay," Miranda said, while smiling.
"I'll be back," Brat said while running upstairs into her room. When she got in there she crashed onto her bed. She lied down and stared at her blue ceiling for a moment. It looked almost happy compared to everything else in the room. The walls were black and numerous things were plastered on them, posters, black boards, spray painted names, ect. Her blue ceiling sparkled and she stared at the shimmering silver clouds and twinkling white, blue, and red stars hanging above her head. Her bed was soft and plush with the strong scent of cigarettes and vanilla. Her whole room smelled like that. Brad has to quit, she thought. She sighed and bought her small, almost invisible nose to her pillow and sniffed. It smelled sooo bittersweet. It had a horrible, evil smell when you first breathed it in, but when you stuck around it got sweeter. It's like me, Brat thought. Truth to say, it was. When she first met anyone, she didn't make a great first impression. If you stuck around long enough, you would see she's pretty damn awesome. She sighed and stuck her hand into her black and blue pillow case. She wrung $17,000 in her hands for a while. I've worked so hard for this. I took double shifts and even kept the kids outta there. I sang every day for two months before I was able to get this much. And half of this are tips. Tips! And I'm giving them to her!she thought. She sighed and took the money wrapped in a rubbed band downstairs. She tossed it to the couch saying, "Gotta go. I'll be back before the show." Miranda sighed and leaned her head back on the couch.
At least she doesn't hate me, she thought, grinning from ear to ear.
Brat smiled when she got to her destination, the music store. It was the only one in town and her safe haven. Every time she felt horrible she would come there and just wait for her feelings of hatred and sorrow to pass over. The old music that played really helped calm her down. She couldn't help but beam when she walked in and heard one of her favorite songs playing. She looked over at the counter where she saw a mess of black hair with a gray tee-shirt fixing some shelves behind him.
I've been working so hard
I'm punching my card
Eight hours for what?
Oh, tell me what I got
"Hiya, Max! Been punchin my card," she sang along with the beat. The mess of hair turned and gave a broad smile. Max was an older teenager who lived about 15 minutes away from Brat. He was short for his age and had snake bite piercings. His lively pale blue-almost white eyes scanned over the teenager and slowly he gave a small grin.
"Hey. Thanks again for doing the gig here. Really bought a lot of people in. If you ever need anything ask me," he said. She smiled and began to sway with the beat. Max began to quietly hum the tune of the song as it played. The semi-loud ding of the door rang as the second verse began. Brat diverted her attention from the Green Day album and Max looked at the blonde at the door. His cobalt blue eyes seemed to smile with him as he walked in.
I've got this feeling
That time's just holding me down
I'll hit the ceiling or else I'll tear up this town
Tonight I gotta cut
"Loose, footloose kick off your Sunday shoes. Please, Louise pull me off a my knees. Jack, get back c'mon before we crack. Lose your blues everybody cut footloose," Boomer sang beautifully as he walked in. His blue eyes looked around and he waved the familiar man behind the counter. He was about to say something when a pig-tailed blonde caught his eye. She looked at him with a bit of confusion and he simply smiled. "Didn't expect me to be here and I bet you didn't expect to hear my golden voice, did ya? Truth be told, I didn't either. I got lost looking for this place."
"No. I didn't think that a boy like you sang at all, let alone this of all songs," she said snarky. He smiled and began to sing yet again.
"And you're playing so cool. Obeying every rule. I dig a way down in your heart. You're burning, yearning for songs," he sang again, proving her wrong. Brat smirked and took this as a challenge. She put a hand on her hip and sent a defiant glare his way. She could play this game, too. She could win this game. Max saw the defiant gleam in her eye and smiled. Quickly he ran to the back to get his camcorder. He would need this on video.
"Somebody to tell you. That life ain't passing you by. I'm trying to tell you. It will if you don't even try. You can fly if you'd only cut," she sang beautifully. Boomer was shocked when she sang. She sings...Miss. Gloom and Doom sings. The horrible person Bubbles described can sing...and she's freaking awesome! he thought, impressed. He didn't expect this. Not in a million years. he smiled at this despite being shocked. Max came back panting with the camcorder and quickly began recording. A smile graced her face as she began again,only this time, he sang along. "Loose, footloose kick off your Sunday shoes. Oowhee, Marie shake it, shake it for me. Whoa, Milo c'mon, c'mon let's go. Lose your blues everybody cut footloose." Brat giggled when Boomer sang along with her. Their voices blended perfectly together. The guys did need a new lead vocalist...Brat thought. Her defiant gleam in her eye turned into a joyous one and she almost forgot the conversation with Miranda earlier.
Boomer looked at her and began to whisper, "Cut footloose. Cut footloose. Cut footloose." Brat smiled at this. This was her favorite part of the song. She used to sing it with her dad when she was younger. "We got to turn me around," he began.
Brat smiled and continued, "And put your feet on the ground."
"Now take a hold of the phone."
"Whoa, I'm turning it loose." The two singers smiled at each other exchanged a happy look. There was no questioning it now. These two were friends. Once you sing with someone, they were your friend. She might not have wanted it, but she let it happen. I'll invite to my show tonight. Then give him a proper tour of the town. She didn't give him one, obviously, she thought. "Loose, footloose kick off your Sunday shoes. Please, Louise pull me off a my knees. Jack, get back c'mon before we crack. Lose your blues now everybody cut footloose. Loose, footloose kick off your Sunday shoes. Please, Louise pull me off a my knees. Jack, get back c'mon before we crack. Lose your blues." Max smiled, zooming in on the two singing teenagers who were moving closer and closer to each other with every passing beat.
Everybody cut everybody cut
Everybody cut everybody cut
Everybody cut everybody cut
The song played still but the duo stopped singing. The two moved closer and closer to each other until Brat turned and wrote something on a piece of scrap paper. Max pointed the camcorder down and made sure it what the note said. He smiled when he saw it and diverted the camcorder back to a confused Boomer. She smiled and gave the note to Boomer. Then she walked out as if nothing happened in there. Boomer looked at the note and smiled too.
(124)-867-5309~Brat Everybody cut footloose.
Wow that was long! I didn't expect it to be but hey, roll with the flow. Sorry about my update issues.