Playing the Matchmaker
Chapter 7
Blake frantically tried to pull his arm from Brandon's iron like grip, the what seemed to be sugar hyped up boy seemed to be on a craze of some sorts,
"Come on, Brandon! Let me go! I don't have time for games."
Brandon turned and scowled at him, "Yes you do. Cause games are fun, fun, fun......." He trailed of murmuring to himself, swaying slightly and bobbing his head.
"No, no fun. Bad games, evil games," Blake scolded Brandon wasn't listening. He sighed and reluctantly raised his fist.
It came crashing into Brandon's long-lashed eye, and broke the grip Brandon had on him. Blake stared in amazement at the black eye already beginning to form. He then turned around and sprinted, knocking down a fair number of people on the way.
"Carl! Woodsey, anyone?" shouted Blake as the crowd started to close around him. The band had started playing and the crowd was uncaring of what a junior-high student wanted. Blake gulped back a feeling of panic as he started elbowing his way to the crowd.
"Come on. Let me me out!" he was grabbed by a large teen with shaggy blonde hair.
"You don't stop that, and you isn't gonna live to see tomorrow!" threatened the teen, a victim of his frantic elbowing.
"Sure," muttered Blake, "I'll stop," then under his breath, "as soon as you learn how to speak properly." The teen shook him by his shirt.
"I heard that you little runt!" snarled the teen. Blake trembled as the teen easily lifted him into the air, he pulled his face close to him and grinned maliciously.
"Let this be a lesson not to tick those off who are wiser and better than you'll ever be," the teen raised a fist, and Blake scrunched his eyes closed as it seemed to loom closer and closer.
"Hey, stop that!" Blake opened his eyes to see a black teen holding back the white one, "why don't you pick on someone your own size.
The white teen sized up the black one, till he snorted, "It ain't worth ma time." Both the others breathed a sigh of relief, as Blake was and the teen slumped away.
"Thank you," breathed Blake, "who ever you are!"
The black teen cocked an eyebrow at him, "you already know me, indirectly of course. I'm Darren, one of Ginger's friend," his mouth dropped as he saw Blake's look on incomprehension, "you have to know me!" he sighed, "never mind."
"Your one of Ginger's friend? She's Carl's sister isn't she?" asked Blake, recognising the name of the girl.
"Yeah," Darren looked around, "hey, are any of them here, Carl or Ginger. I mean."
"Carl is, as well as my sister and their friends, I sort of got separated. And I'm Blake."
"I already know that, I helped you with that blackmailing thing. I think you should stay with me till we find your friends, you almost got battered back there."
"Fine, but I don't need anyone looking after me," huffed Blake.
Darren groaned and ran a hand through his hair, "why are junior-high students so hard to deal with?"
That's the end of number seven! With Darren in it as well, remember the drill, and I'll stop delaying the inevitable and get you to the end of this ride.
Chapter 7
Blake frantically tried to pull his arm from Brandon's iron like grip, the what seemed to be sugar hyped up boy seemed to be on a craze of some sorts,
"Come on, Brandon! Let me go! I don't have time for games."
Brandon turned and scowled at him, "Yes you do. Cause games are fun, fun, fun......." He trailed of murmuring to himself, swaying slightly and bobbing his head.
"No, no fun. Bad games, evil games," Blake scolded Brandon wasn't listening. He sighed and reluctantly raised his fist.
It came crashing into Brandon's long-lashed eye, and broke the grip Brandon had on him. Blake stared in amazement at the black eye already beginning to form. He then turned around and sprinted, knocking down a fair number of people on the way.
"Carl! Woodsey, anyone?" shouted Blake as the crowd started to close around him. The band had started playing and the crowd was uncaring of what a junior-high student wanted. Blake gulped back a feeling of panic as he started elbowing his way to the crowd.
"Come on. Let me me out!" he was grabbed by a large teen with shaggy blonde hair.
"You don't stop that, and you isn't gonna live to see tomorrow!" threatened the teen, a victim of his frantic elbowing.
"Sure," muttered Blake, "I'll stop," then under his breath, "as soon as you learn how to speak properly." The teen shook him by his shirt.
"I heard that you little runt!" snarled the teen. Blake trembled as the teen easily lifted him into the air, he pulled his face close to him and grinned maliciously.
"Let this be a lesson not to tick those off who are wiser and better than you'll ever be," the teen raised a fist, and Blake scrunched his eyes closed as it seemed to loom closer and closer.
"Hey, stop that!" Blake opened his eyes to see a black teen holding back the white one, "why don't you pick on someone your own size.
The white teen sized up the black one, till he snorted, "It ain't worth ma time." Both the others breathed a sigh of relief, as Blake was and the teen slumped away.
"Thank you," breathed Blake, "who ever you are!"
The black teen cocked an eyebrow at him, "you already know me, indirectly of course. I'm Darren, one of Ginger's friend," his mouth dropped as he saw Blake's look on incomprehension, "you have to know me!" he sighed, "never mind."
"Your one of Ginger's friend? She's Carl's sister isn't she?" asked Blake, recognising the name of the girl.
"Yeah," Darren looked around, "hey, are any of them here, Carl or Ginger. I mean."
"Carl is, as well as my sister and their friends, I sort of got separated. And I'm Blake."
"I already know that, I helped you with that blackmailing thing. I think you should stay with me till we find your friends, you almost got battered back there."
"Fine, but I don't need anyone looking after me," huffed Blake.
Darren groaned and ran a hand through his hair, "why are junior-high students so hard to deal with?"
That's the end of number seven! With Darren in it as well, remember the drill, and I'll stop delaying the inevitable and get you to the end of this ride.