"You're going to the dance with Lash." Warren stated as soon as I sat down with my paper bag.
"Yeah. Fun fun, right?"
"Wrong. You're going to the dance with Lash."
"It's not like he's going to try and turn me into a baby. The mastermind is locked away and screaming about pimples."
"I warned you about him."
"Them. You warned me about them, as a whole. He is one of them, yet he is not only them. And he said I could wear one of his ties."
"So he could choke you?"
"Why are you so freakin' against me actually having a date for once? Not that you've known me for that long, but I haven't ever had a boyfriend! I am a deprived woman! The closest thing to a romantic link is when Billy gave me a chrysanthemum in the first grade. Which is when I realized I was allergic to them and sneezed on his face." I stabbed my Strawberry trifle viciously and swallowed some. Dessert for lunch. I thought Warren would like it. Surprisingly, he's a strawberry man.
"Traumatic experiences involving allergies put aside, Lash tried to turn the whole school into babies."
"Have you every thought of why he might've done something like that? If there were any second guesses? If he might actually regret what he did? Blackmail, perhaps?"
"Did he say that?"
"No, I have yet to have any heart-to-hearts with the boy. God! This is high school! I don't need to psycho-analyze everyone I plan on interacting with! For a boy who's purposefully separated himself from the school by having everyone fear you, you're acting like a damn hypocrite when it comes to others with bad reputations." Yeah, I went there!
I slammed the lid on my tupperware and shoved it into my bag, grumbling about how I always saw too much good in people. I say my stalking away was pretty affective, my chair screeched and eventually the cafeteria was silent when I walked through the doors. They were swishy doors, though. No slamming.
Wallowing in my anger is bad for my health. I did it once before, and it ended up with me punching in two walls and fracturing my pinky. Yet here I am, sitting on weird random concrete fences (or are they really fences at all?) and clenching my fists. I might be bleeding, but I don't care. When I'm angry all my instincts of self preservation go kaput.
"I'm sorry." A masculine voice admitted grudgingly, sitting beside me as I waited for the bus.
"You're sorry?" Maybe I should take into consideration that Warren's afraid to show emotion and take it to heart when he apologizes.
"I'm not repeating myself." He snarled.
And... I snapped.
"Because you're too afraid to show someone that you actually have a heart?" Normally when I say things like this, people could tell I'm joking since I'm grinning goofily and my tone is happy. Now... I'm glaring slightly and my voice is cold. "I'm officially relieving you of your guide duties to this strange and terrifying new school I'm surrounded by. I think I'm used to the routine by now."
The freshman bus came, thank god for small miracles, and I walked away from what was sure to be awkward and angry.
Then I just realized that in his own small way, Warren just laid out his heart to me and I crushed it into a million little pieces and utterly rejected him.
I turned back around, damn the consequences of possibly missing the bus, and looked to where I was sitting before only to see an empty seat and fake green grass.
Oh god, what did I do?
Today is tomorrow when living in yesterday.
In other words, this is the day after I completely ruined whatever friendship I might've had with Warren.
I don't even know how it happened, but I think my shirt's backwards. And it's lunch.
And I'm standing at the entrance, contemplating how the hell I'm going to make it up to Warren. I've already got the best gourmet meal I could prepare. Orange duck and ice cream sandwiches. No, the duck is not orange. It's the sauce. And the ice cream sandwiches aren't storebought, they're made with biscuits, homemade ice cream, and strawberry sauce. Now I just have to find an appropriate way to grovel.
It's safe to say I have made zero progress with my homework and there are bags under my eyes.
"Freshman!"
I turned to see whoever was calling the freshmen, for the freshman could be me, and in fact it was. For Lash stretched right in front of me in all his stripes and grinned.
"My names Emily Perkins, in case you haven't picked up on it yet." Why was his arm around me and where was he taking me?
"I'd rather call you Blue."
"As long as you don't turn my nickname into an alliteration. I draw the line at Blue Bear."
"Deal. Now lets eat."
"Um, actually, I have to," I raised the small cooler and stuffed paper bag pathetically. The ice cream would melt.
"Eat?"
"No, give the food to someone."
"Like us."
"No. To someone who isn't in the category of 'us'. More like an 'it'." Why couldn't I just say Warren? Warren Peace. Peace comma Warren. Why won't my throat obey me? OBEY ME!
"Are you okay?" I stopped choking myself and blushed.
"Um, yeah, just gimme a minute, okay?" I scanned the lunch tables and found Warren, sitting in his usual table, staring at a speck on the table. Or atleast I assumed there was a speck somewhere there, otherwise the table wouldn't be very interesting. And neither would the steam coming out of his back.
... Oh.
I headed straight towards him with my head down and my shoulders sagged. I walked fast, though, determined. It was just the upper half of my body that wouldn't obey me. It wouldn't even say anything, it just put the containers on his table, crushing the speck.
Aw, my throats opening up.
"Don't worry about giving anything back." I croaked before turning back and practically running back to Lash who was now accompanied by a fat guy with a baseball hat.
"Um, greetings." I said awkwardly to the big one.
"What was that all about?" Lash asked, frowning slightly. Don't tell me all guys are freaky protective.
"Nothing." My voice cracked and I cursed my female adam's apple.
"This is the girl you were telling me about?" Speed scoffed. "The only thing special about her is her rags." Rags? These are my favorite skinny jeans, and they are not rags. It's practically spandex! Spandex is in no way or form a rag.
"And what about you? The fat boy who can run? Shouldn't super speed work for your metabolism too?" I bit out, feeling my eyes spark. Yes, my eyes can spark, and I can feel it.
"Better. Let's get a table, chains." The tubby boy said, turning around.
The two of them started towards a table that immediately emptied from one glare and I stared for a second before following.
What kind of a name is chains?
Author's Note: I'm really really really sorry it took me more than a week to post something. It turns out I actually have a social life now (gasp!) and people won't let me live.