Chapter 4: Bad Pick-Up Lines
The sixth bell rings, signaling the end of school. I run out of the building. Forget the bus, I'll run home. Skip the chance of meeting Pip. I cough, then I stumble. Ugh! By God! How can this be happening to me today! I take a deep breath and scoot to the wall to lean against it. I listen dejectedly to the sounds of nature and passing cars. Then, I hear a voice, begging and pleading. He gives a shout. I hear things like this a lot, y'know, kids being beaten up and stuff. I usually don't care, I walk away- usually. I actually want to see what's happening. I pull myself up, I hang on the branch of a tree for a few seconds. I go. I walk around the corner. It's Pip! What the hell is he even doing here? I duck into a bush before he sees me. The man threatening Pip with his fist is, like, twenty some. Who is that? He looks somewhat familiar... I dunno. He punches Pip hard. Pip's face flies in the opposite direction. Oh my god! I stand up quickly. Whoa... stop, Kim. What are you thinking? You don't care! He's not special! But he penetrated my layer. For that he should be killed! But he's... different. The other guy notices me. He flattens Pip with another punch across the face. He walks towards me.
"Hey there, gorgeous, this freak your boyfriend?"
I shake my head dumbly. Like, I'm unable to speak. And how could he even think that? I mean, like, do we even look like a couple? No. He advances slowly. I don't know what to do, I back up a step. His smile grows.
"My back itches, let's fuck."
Best line in your vocabulary? I can feel my gut slosh. I look around desperately for anyone to help. All I see is the sun creeping down, like it's a kid at bed time who doesn't want to miss me getting in even deeper shit as the minutes pass. How compassionate. I manage to stutter a sentence,
"B-but... I... I'm only f-fifteen..."
His eyes grow wide with perverse pleasure. He licks his lips. I flinch. I can't even move my fuckin' feet! I'm tellin' them to move but they're not!
"The younger the better!"
Oh please! I feel so sarcastic. Amazing, at the worst times.
"Then go rape a third grader."
His face goes purple with rage. In one fluid motion he strikes me with the back of his hand. Damn, I can't feel my face. I lose my balance and fall hard on the concrete.
How come men always know exactly how to hit a woman, just where it hurts? What, do they pull them aside in high school and give 'em Slapping 101? Just pow! Right across the cheek! He kneels over and grabs me by the throat roughly. I cough once.
"I like 'em feisty bitch! Struggle all you want, scream, cry, beg!"
I'd never give you that satisfaction, loser! I spit at his face. I always had the best spit aim. Greg taught me how to aim my spit. Thank you, Greg. Well, it hits him square in the eye. He releases my neck and slaps me roughly across the other cheek. Ow! He wipes the spit off of his face and growls,
"You bitch!"
He grabs a rock. The last thing I see is the rock coming to my head and the last rays of the sun.