When I got into the classroom Kaiba wasn't in his usual seat. In fact, the room was Kaibaless.
What was there instead was the Devil himself, and I swear, I gaped until I could feel my eyes bulging out of my head in horror.
Bakura looked up from where he was lounging on his swinging chair, and threw me a lazy smile. "Hey there, sweetheart."
I glanced around the room. The only other free seat was the one next to Duke, and there was no way in Hell that I was gonna sit beside that asshat. But then again, there was no way that I wanted to sit beside this one, either...
I gave him my deluxe I'll-kill-you-painfully stare, the one I'd perfected staight after dumping Duke, and leaned my books on my table. I matched his smirk with my scowl. "That's not your seat."
"It is now."
"You're not even in this class, ya pussy-lickin' whoreson of Satan," I growled. Someone behind him gave me a startled look, like they'd never heard a bad word in their life - but that was their problem, not mine. I wasn't in the mood for dancing around the issue. "Go back to the pit you spawned from - HEY! Give that back!"
He quickly hid my pencilcase down the far side of his chair and gave me a wink, just as the fucking teacher walked into the classroom and ordered - Ordered, moi? - to sit down beside the asshole, adding in a loud voice that if he ever heard me use that kind of language again to a new classmate then I'd be getting a month's worth of detentions and extra lectures on ettiquette. I did as I was told, fuming, listening to the sniggers all around me as I scraped my chair as far away from the sneaking scumbag as possible - which wasn't very far, considering the circumstances.
As the teacher began to write on the board, I felt something brush over my leg and looked down with a start. The fucking turd tried to put his hand on my (Thankfully-covered) thigh again so without looking at him I grabbed his pen and stabbed it. Hard.
His slight intake of breath and the sudden tightening of his body told me that I'd won that battle. I picked up his sleeve between my finger and thumb and dropped it back into his own lap, opened my notebook and started jotting down with the lecher's pen. Already I was becoming pissed that my notes for today would be in monochrome: I'd have to redo them as soon as I got home, on top of all of the other homework and study I'd need to do...
Yes, I am OCD about my notes. I like being OCD about my notes. It means that they're organised and easy to go through and not just fucking dull all the time.
And so what if I'm using multiple italics? It's a free country, dammit.
Anyway, Bakura was holding my pencilcase in custody and I wasn't sure that the bitch was gonna give it up without a fight. Seriously? I was just worried that I wouldn't be able to do any paperworks at break or lunch to avoid having to talk to people because if there's one thing that's vital for making the perfect tear in a page, it's a ruler.
A ruler which was trapped beside a scheming, plotting, dastardly little toerag.
Oh, joy.
Bakura tried to attract my attention many more times in the space of that one class, and each time he did it I was getting more and more unnerved. I mean, it's one thing to sit beside someone who ignores you, but it's completely another to be forced into a small chair at a small desk with little to no space between you and somebody who keeps trying to cop a feel. So by the end of it I felt as jittery as if I'd just eaten a whole load of sugar and washed it down with, like, ten cups of coffee. And a frappé.
When breaktime finally came, I was almost relieved to get outta my seat. I dashed outta that classroom like my ass was on fire, slammed my textbooks inside my locker and legged it to the girls' bathroom. I grabbed the furthest-away cubicle, locked it, and plonked down onto the toilet seat, trying to regain my lost composure. I mentally started listing out all that was wrong with my world.
One: Duke still wanted me back. Like he was gonna get me, the whore.
Two: The white-haired perv had stolen Kaiba's seat, my pencilcase and my steady status with the teacher, and was also dipping his light-fingered hands into thepocket that held my sanity.
And, very quickly dawning on me as the sounds of other girls began to fill the bathroom, three: I was in the most popular cubicle, it being furthest away from the camera and therefore great for texting, in a bathroom which was rapidly being taken over by the popular girls, all of whom A) hated me for "Hurting" Duke for dumping him and B)despised me for having been his girlfriend in the first place.
"-She, like, called him some really horrible names and I was like, 'Girl, you need to get a grip-"
Oh, and C): They were now sharing gossip about my misdemeanors in class with other, equally-hating and empty-headed vessels of BEEOTCH.
And I was stuck in this fucking cubicle and trying not to breathe too loud.
Look, if you're a guy and you're reading this because you wanna feel my pain, get this: Guys, they don't mess around. They shove you, yeah, bruise you, break a few bones if they really hate you. But at least they call you what they think you are to your face. Girls, especially the pretty, popular girls, man, they could be standin' right in front of you and smilin' all sweetly, and then as soon as you're gone they're gonna be dragging your name in the mud.
At least guy's wounds can be healed in time. but there's nothing that can heal your reputation if a popular girl wants to ruin you for eternity. And the worst thing of all is, you won't even know they're doing it.
Me, I could hear the continuation of my degradation just fine.
"She's, like, sooo out of fashion." Cue sniggers.
"Do you reckon she gets her hair done by dragging it through a bush? I don't think she even knows what curling tongs are." Another one quipped in, and my fist began to curl. That one was Helena, one of the many "friends" that Duke had introduced me to, and the reason that I saw the light and dumped him in the first place. Helena of the thick honey-blonde mane that guys always drooled over, she of the perfectly-tanned, spot-free skin and flawless make-up, her nails manicured professionally once a week, Helena of the short-short skirt and push-up bras to make her E-cup stand out even more to the guys she fluttered her fake eyelashes at. Helena, who had been pretty much devouring the double-crossing, two-timing sleaze with her hands already pretty far down his pants. Helena who was being devoured enthusiastically in turn and having her tits groped, her skirt already up for a quick fuck.
And then afterwards the faggot had had the sheer audacity to flick her hair at me and tell me in no uncertain tones that "Duke's never been your boyfriend, honey."
And you wonder why I hate 'em yet?
"Hey guys, this one's been locked all break." Amanda, Helena's equally blonde friend (Blonde from a bottle, and just as dumb) rattled the door to my cubicle. "Somebody's hiding in here." (Duh.) I nearly froze, but then my mouth kicked in before my brain could, and for once saved my bacon:
"Can't a girl take a shit without being interrupted anymore?" I yelled at half-strength, but it was still pretty loud in that confined space. I heard the room go near-silent, before -
the whispers started, just as the bell rang.
Saved. I gave a sigh of relief and, just to make it sound like the biggest shit in the history of girlkind, dropped the rest of my rolled-up, half-eaten jam sandwich down the hole with a ton of toilet paper and flushed.
I cheerfully opened the door and shoved my way past the shocked audience to reach the sink, squirting the soap onto my hands and washing them vigourously. I saw one or two of 'em nearly gag. But I couldn't hold the smile back off'f my ugly face. I'd pulled one over them.
I dried my hands and walked out whistling.
Unfortunaltely, since Life has recently taken up the habit of being an absolute bitch to me, I wouldn't be allowed to keep my relief for as long as I'd have liked.
Whaddaya mean, "Why not"? I dunno, go ask Life. Look, he's over there. No, behind your shoulder. Your other shoulder - oh wait, he's gone. Don't ask him then.
As I grabbed my books for the next few classes, I had a deep sense of foreboding that nothing could have prepared me for the troubles that lay ahead of me that day.
Nothing, of course, except a trashy teenage romance novel.
I walked into the classroom to a scene outta... pretty much every reverse-harem anime out there, I guess. All of the populars were blocking the door, and I soon found out why.
Duke and Bakura were having a stand-off at my desk.
"You should really stay away from her," Duke smiled, placing a friendly hand on Bakura's shoulder. "She's not your type, I mean look at you, man! You deserve better than her! You can get any other girl in the city, so why go for one as low-class as her?"
Low-class. You deserve better. My heart was frozen, but my mind was ablaze. This was how he was gonna try and get me back? Seriously? By insulting me in front of everybody in the entire class!?
He didn't deserve the balls his Mama gave him.
Bakura threw his head back and laughed, pearly teeth catching the light perfectly to dazzle all. "'Low-class'? If she's so low-class, then tell me, friend," he yanked Duke painfully down by tugging on the same piece of hair I'd dragged him by, smiling a smile that didn't reach his burning eyes, "Why are you after her, hmm?"
Duke forced a chuckle, his grin more like a grimace. "Let's not get back into the details, huh? I'll just say that even though she is a piece of trash" - a round of applause came from some of his fans - "Sometimes even trash has its days, yeah?"
"Nice try, you little piece of shit."
Duke jerked away from Bakura, straightening his jacket and tucking his hair behind his ear as I shoved my way though the horde to the front of my desk. There were no words anymore. There was nothing except for the burning, all-consuming disgust in my chest. "Sweetie -" he tried.
Slap! Slap!
I double-handed him across the face, leaving two stinging red marks across his cheeks. He reached up and touched one of them gingerly, attempting the innocent smile again. "It's not what it looks like -"
Crack!
This time I caught him in a left uppercut to the jaw. He stumbled backwards, clutching it, as I strode forwards, still cradling my books under my right arm. "Not what it looks like, is it? That's exactly what you said the last time. And the time before that, and the time before that." I advanced on him, unaware of the crowd closing in behind me. "How about what it sounds like? Is it what it sounds like? I guess it's easy to mix up a 'low-class piece of trash' like me with one of your other bitches, right?" He opened his mouth, but I held up a finger. "No, Duke. No more excuses. I'm sick of being lied to by you, being cheated on by you, hell," I spat, "Being nothing more than a nobody to you was better than this!"
"Baby, just -"
"I've moved on, you two-timing prick." He opened his mouth wordlessly, then shut it again, shaking his head. "Why can't you?"
Second bell rang. I slowly sank down into my seat with the throbbing in my head like someone hammering inside of my skull. I didn't care that I was next to the skirt-chaser. I didn't care that my pencilcase was still beside his right foot.
All I wanted, at that one moment in time, was to go home.
Well, also some painkiller and my pencilcase, and for Bakura and Duke to disappear off'f the face of the earth, but mostly to go home. Although them disappearing came a close second.
"Here."
Bakura's murmur was the last thing that I wanted to hear, but I cracked open an eyelid and saw him holding out a packet of Paracetamol. I looked at him suspiciously, and he shrugged. "Your fist will start aching soon. Believe me."
Gingerly, I took the packet. Two were popped out of the plastic, swallowed dry. "Thanks," was the mumbled response as I gave them back to him. Man, I was wrecked. Crevée. Epuisée. Outta the game. Tinn taoirseach. Wrecked.
"Anytime." I closed my eye again and leaned on my fist, but he just wouldn't stop bugging me. "You say that you've moved on..."
"Mmph?"
"But the question remains," he lowered his voice even further as the teacher's footsteps clacked in on her stilettos, "Who have you decided to move on to?"
Well, fuck me. It certainly wouldn't be him. Not then, not ever. I was done with getting my heart ripped. I wasn't gonna open up for anybody anymore. Never again.
"Go fuck yourself, Bakura, it certainly won't be you." My growl carried only to his ears. The prick just laughed and slipped something over the desk to me. I glanced down at it through half-closed eyes. My pencilcase.
"We'll see."