Chapter: 2
Disclaimer: I wish I did own the stories...but I don't. Meg Cabot does. Worship her. Now. And also read my stories...please...
A/N: Please review, little beans. It will get more interesting and there will be more action...as soon as I start writing...
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I don't know why I'm so nervous. I'm twitching about like a...like a...well I dunno what I'm like, but I sure as hell am twitchy. I woke up about half an hour early (it's a big enough fiat for me to get up on time, let alone early) and laid in bed, fidgeting profusely.
Eventually I got up, had breakfast, spent a long time getting dressed, then spent a long time styling my hair, then spent a long time doing my make up. And I was still early!
I was happy...yet every time I caught myself smiling I quickly stopped and grew incredibly nervous. And I knew who was making me feel so nervous: Paul Slater. Or as I like to call him: Spawn of Satan.
Because that is what he is.
The Devil's child.
Just as I had gotten over being scared by him, he sexually harasses me, gets into a fistfight with my boyfriend, then his own grandpa warns me against him. His own family thinks he is bad news.
Not that I needed his family to tell me that.
When Dopey came downstairs, he did a double take to see me sitting at the kitchen table reading the cereal box.
"Oh my God. I'm dreaming. Suze is ready before we're meant to leave? Oh. My. God. What's going on? What's- oof!" His speech was a little tiresome, don't you think? So, I sucker punched him. David walked in just as Dopey was writhing on the floor.
"Suze, as much as I enjoy the sight of Brad in pain as a source of vengeance, I just want to make it aware that continuous physical damage - especially to the specific gut region – could cause later permanent damage which in turn could affect his life, and not in a good way," Doc informed me helpfully. Not.
"Yeah, so you better stop," groaned Dopey, with a smirk on his ugly face.
"On the contrary, Brad," he continued, looking at Dopey as if he were nuts, "I'm just telling Suze that, in order to be saved later potential compensation claims, or worse, from the injured Brad, you may want to vary you points of contact when you hit him. Such as the head, or groin."
Dopey and I both looked at Brad in astonishment.
"Thanks, David," I said. Dopey just glowered.
We got to school, on time, and queued for assembly. Sister Ernestine was more than shocked. I smirked at her - for once; she had no reason to punish me. Today was a good day. I was calmly ignoring all the weird looks people were throwing at me. They all thought I was on drugs after seeing my spectacle at the party. Oh well, anything's better than the truth.
Paul walked into Juniper High and back into my thoughts. His mouth widened into a leer. Just as he was about to make his way to me, we were told to go into assembly. I was furious at Father Dom, too. It's because of him that Paul isn't suspended and off school. Apparently Father D thought that mediating was getting Paul stressed and Paul had just snapped. Yeah, and Pavaroti looks good in a bikini. Like Paul ever even tried to help a lost soul. He just made them his minions.
In homeroom, I managed to avoid him too. CeeCee was having a go at me for disappearing suddenly and Adam was commenting on how nice I looked today. I was wearing a khaki mini skirt and a black scoop vest that let two inches of my flat stomach show.
I did look good, but then again, I did try. I spent a long time choosing an outfit that looked good, but that also wouldn't be prohibiting if I needed to kick some Paul-butt.
So, I managed to avoid Paul for half the day, but lunch was coming up and I couldn't think of ways to avoid him then. I needed lunch, OK? I like to eat. And I need energy. I was wandering down the corridor on my way to lunch – CeeCee was at the library and Adam was already eating – when an arm grabbed my waist and tugged me into an empty classroom.
"Hey good-lookin', what's cookin'?" Goosebumps flooded my skin.
"Paul."
Disclaimer: I wish I did own the stories...but I don't. Meg Cabot does. Worship her. Now. And also read my stories...please...
A/N: Please review, little beans. It will get more interesting and there will be more action...as soon as I start writing...
*********************************************************************
I don't know why I'm so nervous. I'm twitching about like a...like a...well I dunno what I'm like, but I sure as hell am twitchy. I woke up about half an hour early (it's a big enough fiat for me to get up on time, let alone early) and laid in bed, fidgeting profusely.
Eventually I got up, had breakfast, spent a long time getting dressed, then spent a long time styling my hair, then spent a long time doing my make up. And I was still early!
I was happy...yet every time I caught myself smiling I quickly stopped and grew incredibly nervous. And I knew who was making me feel so nervous: Paul Slater. Or as I like to call him: Spawn of Satan.
Because that is what he is.
The Devil's child.
Just as I had gotten over being scared by him, he sexually harasses me, gets into a fistfight with my boyfriend, then his own grandpa warns me against him. His own family thinks he is bad news.
Not that I needed his family to tell me that.
When Dopey came downstairs, he did a double take to see me sitting at the kitchen table reading the cereal box.
"Oh my God. I'm dreaming. Suze is ready before we're meant to leave? Oh. My. God. What's going on? What's- oof!" His speech was a little tiresome, don't you think? So, I sucker punched him. David walked in just as Dopey was writhing on the floor.
"Suze, as much as I enjoy the sight of Brad in pain as a source of vengeance, I just want to make it aware that continuous physical damage - especially to the specific gut region – could cause later permanent damage which in turn could affect his life, and not in a good way," Doc informed me helpfully. Not.
"Yeah, so you better stop," groaned Dopey, with a smirk on his ugly face.
"On the contrary, Brad," he continued, looking at Dopey as if he were nuts, "I'm just telling Suze that, in order to be saved later potential compensation claims, or worse, from the injured Brad, you may want to vary you points of contact when you hit him. Such as the head, or groin."
Dopey and I both looked at Brad in astonishment.
"Thanks, David," I said. Dopey just glowered.
We got to school, on time, and queued for assembly. Sister Ernestine was more than shocked. I smirked at her - for once; she had no reason to punish me. Today was a good day. I was calmly ignoring all the weird looks people were throwing at me. They all thought I was on drugs after seeing my spectacle at the party. Oh well, anything's better than the truth.
Paul walked into Juniper High and back into my thoughts. His mouth widened into a leer. Just as he was about to make his way to me, we were told to go into assembly. I was furious at Father Dom, too. It's because of him that Paul isn't suspended and off school. Apparently Father D thought that mediating was getting Paul stressed and Paul had just snapped. Yeah, and Pavaroti looks good in a bikini. Like Paul ever even tried to help a lost soul. He just made them his minions.
In homeroom, I managed to avoid him too. CeeCee was having a go at me for disappearing suddenly and Adam was commenting on how nice I looked today. I was wearing a khaki mini skirt and a black scoop vest that let two inches of my flat stomach show.
I did look good, but then again, I did try. I spent a long time choosing an outfit that looked good, but that also wouldn't be prohibiting if I needed to kick some Paul-butt.
So, I managed to avoid Paul for half the day, but lunch was coming up and I couldn't think of ways to avoid him then. I needed lunch, OK? I like to eat. And I need energy. I was wandering down the corridor on my way to lunch – CeeCee was at the library and Adam was already eating – when an arm grabbed my waist and tugged me into an empty classroom.
"Hey good-lookin', what's cookin'?" Goosebumps flooded my skin.
"Paul."