Chapter 3. Playing with fire
Part 2.
Buttercup's P.O.V
I hate everything about my outfit, but I love everything about the classes. Being a part of the cheer leading squad – on my blonde sisters request – makes it mandatory to use the uniform even when attending normal subjects besides this stupid hobby. The wig itches horribly, more than the extensions do, the skirt is way too short, even with dark optional undershorts. Luckily I'm used to the heavy makeup, and the only change is the blue color, instead of the black one. Why Bubbles had insisted on wearing the contacts even if my eyes are already green – something about the shading being off – I have zero clue. From what I can tell, the difference isn't that great. Barely noticeable.
«Remember to keep it Bubbly,» had Blossom said as we had parted our ways.
«Just one small thing,» my blonde sister had pulled me aside when the oldest puff had practically skipped down the hall in excitement, triggering me in the process. She better not go off doing something silly while using my profile, I thought.
«There might be some complications, but just ignore it, please. Remember to have a low profile no matter what,» my sister glanced back and fourth, biting at her bottom lip. A piece of information was kept from me, and I wanted to ask, but the bell had rung. «Skip the classes, the rest of the day if you have to, just don't cause a ruckus,» she had lastly begged before dashing off.
«What fucking complications?» I muttered to myself before taking my leave.
Had she only told me back then what she meant, I might have been better prepared. Who am I kidding? There's no way she could have told me that would prepare me for the fact that we were practicing on the same field as my counterpart.
Third period is my nightmare, I realize after having the brightest smile. Usually it was math, but because of the silly little hobby, we had practice at the same time, and thus excused from the class. Sounded delightful and relieving at that time, but now standing here with him barely hundred meters away, I feel my knees freeze.
My jaw tightens in parallel with my fists as I watch the boys push each other back and forth, laughter filling the air, the sound of a ball swooshing over the field. I feel a strong urge to storm over there, and strangle him. Why the hell is his shirt off, I grunt loudly to myself.
«The best thing about a cheerleader,» the blonde at my side purrs. She has a soft layer of freckles on her cheeks and nose bridge, long eyelashes and deep brown eyes under a thick bang, hair pulled up in a ponytail.
Bubbles have never told us about this girl, Rachel, but she seems to be her friend as she constantly talks to me. It shocks me how few of them seems to care about yesterday's incident and the murder committed by the ruff. Disgusting, I think. Not just the boys, but these groupies too.
«Alright girls. Enough drooling, get your asses wiggling,» the leader calls out, a sly smile on her lips as her eyes linger lusting on the males. You're the one drooling here, I'm tempted to snark, but I remember to stay in character. Be happy, bubbly, annoyingly charming.
I lightly nudge the blonde's shoulder, getting her attention. «I feel a little out of it today, could you kindly remind me of my part?» I force a smile. It feels stiff on my lips, but luckily the other girl doesn't seam to notice nor mind.
«Oh, today we're just going to practice a little. Hilary and Samantha will announce what and who.» A finger is pointed at the blonde and brunette. Bitches, is the first word that comes to mind. They're barely covering anything up, the uniform leaving their cleavage and stomach open for display.
For the first part it's spinning and jumping, girls doing a part of the routine and somersaults and back flips. I don't mind it much; it's rather boring and somehow easy to pull off, but I as for a reminder. Naturally enough, I actually don't know any of the stuff, but Bubbles clearly does. The eyes they give me are of abhor and I can hear their squeaky voice as the thoughts go 'are you fucking serious with me right now?'.
I feel distracted as I notice the boys creeping closer and closer. Will the bastard be able to tell it's me behind all the makeup and the odd hair? Rachel squirms beside me with the closeup of the hotties and I can tell she's not the only one. The only ones who doesn't seem to notice are the captains.
«Hope, let's see a tower,» Samantha calls out and I barely remembered that's my name. Not Lilly like always, but Hope. Scratching the back of my neck, I avert my gaze from the curious boys. The five other girls gather around, and I jump on the top, a hand pushing my upward at the underside of my sole. The ground is built of three girls, supporting two over. I get a push to the top, lazily lift my arms over my head in victory. Be bubbly, it rips through my head.
«I did it,» I giggle, wanting to vomit from the sound.
«Man, you're heavy,» one of the girls under me mutters softly, staring me straight in the face. I'm about to blow up at her rude attitude, when the balance slips. The girls under me cries out in what I presume is false shock and scare, and I feel myself pummel down. Shit, I think. I can't hover to save myself. I feel panic prickle at my heart. From this height, a normal person will break something. Closing my eyes I spin to my side. A broken arm can easily be faked.
Thud. The sound is soft, and so is my landing. I feel the heat of another body, open my eyes and glance upwards. Hands rest at my stomach, holding me up, face too close for comfort. The forest color is warm and a bright, a genuine smile makes me blush. Was it possible to be this adorable?
«Looks like heaven sent me an angel,» Butch says with his dark voice, tugging at the female part of me. Mind you, it's so small it's barely a thug of the heartstrings, and the cheesy comment is more like a cold slap across the cheek instead of a sweet caress. I want to punch him in the face. God damn Bubbles and her cheery personality.
«Thank you so much for saving me,» I manage to smile on commando, defiance and pure self loath. Something ripples through the surface of his eyes, and I swear to god it feels like he sees straight through me, and knows who I am.
«Pleasure is all mine,» he whispers instead, hands slipping around my back and pulling me closer. I feel my heart beating violently in my ears, and I don't know if it's from fear at being so close to something as deadly as a ruff or adrenaline pumping from the dangerous situation. It's his fault, either way.
«You're not hurt, are you?» I can hear the girls grinding their teeth at me, envious at the scenario I'm finding myself in, and I want to tell them we can gladly change. My palms feels so sweaty I fear my makeup might be running down my cheeks, a tremble rides my body and I'm doing everything in my power to fight the instinct. I want to push him away, to leave there, to go home and curse my sister for not having warned me. For falling off that fucking human tower and the bitch calling me fat. It takes every part of my sane mind to channel my inner Bubble.
«No, I'm alright thanks to you.» The second lasts too long, and he finally puts me down. I turn around to take the longest, most silent breath I can. Rachel is giggling at me, but the rest of the girls seems to be ready to kill. Are they always like this? I wonder.
I feel my right wrist throbbing, and stare at the swelling. It's not much, and barely there. Confused, I touch it tentatively. Must have been something wrong yesterday, I conclude. It's going to be hell if I stay, isn't it?
«I think I'll go to the infirmary after all,» I excuse myself. I can feel the jealous stares and the amused one of my counterpart. He must know. There's no way he doesn't know after that. Bubbles would have felt awkward and out of place in this sort of situation, but I'm not my sister am I? I couldn't give less care even if I tried. All that matters is to escape this hell filled with bimbos, horny teenagers and bitches.
The school nurse is a woman in her fifties, a couple white stripes kindly curving her hair, with a smile and knowing look, she waves for me to sit on the bed. The white lab coat somehow seems more like a cosplay than a helpful gadget.
«What seems to be the problem?» she flicks her pen on the board in her hands.
«My wrist hurts. It's probably sprained.» Taking a seat on the chair, she wheels in closer, holding her hand out for me to let her have a look. After moving it around and squeezing it for about a minute she gives it back.
«Feels strained. Would you like to rest here for an hour before returning to your classes?» She waves a note of legal absent note in front of my face. I like this lady; she understands me and speaks my language.
«Yeah,» I give my most green answer, and before I get to add something blue to that, the woman signs it and hands it over, pulling the curtains closed and giving me some free space. Leaning back, I close my eyes. He knows, I fear. Ironically, I miss the AP classes.