Chapter Two - The Magazine Article

Fang POV

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

I slammed my hand down on my alarm clock, ignoring the slight cracking sound it made. I could hear my door crack open and felt light shine on my face.

"Fang, mom told me if you don't wake up, I get to put a stink bomb in your bed." My youngest brother, Gazzy, said menacingly. Knowing my brother, he wasn't kidding, but knowing my brother, my mom hadn't told him he could do that. She forbid him and my step-brother, Iggy, from ever letting off bombs in the house, school, mall, store, etc.

"Alright, alright. I'm up, good hell." I muttered, stretching, and rubbing my eyes. The door closed, and I smiled to myself. He was disappointed I actually got up. Slowly, very slowly, I stood and shuffled my way into the bathroom connected to my room. The warm shower drizzled down my back as I hurried to scrub my hair. I stepped out, wiped the steam off my mirror, and continued to get ready for the day. It was, in fact, the first day of school.

As I managed to pull my black skinny jeans on, Iggy, burst through the door, singing something about lollipops and bacon. The boy and his bacon, I thought to myself, shaking my head. In some ways, Iggy is exactly like me. An example is that we both like girls, but of course, Iggy's a little extreme in that category like everything else he does because he doesn't just likes, he loves. I remember one time he got called on by the cops because he had followed a girl home and sang to her as she looked out the window of her bedroom. The girl moved to Oregon after that.

"Hello my emo brother." He smiled at me, jumping onto my unmade bed.

"I'm not emo." I replied, pulling a gray t-shirt over my head. Iggy immediately threw my black hoodie across the room at me and I caught it, one handed.

"Thanks."

"No prob. So, are you still dating that Lisa chick?" He questioned, fiddling with the magazine in his hand.

"Yeah, why?" I replied, looking at him suspiciously. His blue eyes darted between me and the magazine anxiously. My eyes wandered to the magazine as well and I quickly snatched it from his grasp. He jumped up, startled and alarmed.

"No! You won't like what's in it!" He shouted, trying to reach for it, but I merely swatted his hands away like flies. My eyes suddenly widened as I saw my face and my girlfriend's, Lisa Giffings, staring up at me from the cover. I immediately flipped through the pages, landing on the article about the Ride-Griffings relationship.

We have been currently informed that Nicholas Ride, son of the famous Jeb Batchadelar

Ride, has been in a six month relationship with Lisa Giffings. The news came to us as a

surprising shock since we had just caught Lisa Giffings in a heated make-out session with

the popular football player of Walker-Buite High School, Dylan Gunther-Hagen. Our photos were

defined proof that Ms. Giffings hadn't had a thought in the world about her current boy-

friend. Will this be the end of the Ride-Giffings relationship? I guess, only time will tell.

She had been cheating on me! I was going to break up with her anyway, but she was cheating on me! Ripping the magazine in half, I threw it across the room. It landed in a fluttered mess on the ground near my night stand. Iggy stared at me, wondering what to do. Shoving my shoes on my feet, I pushed pat him, and out my bedroom door. As I walked down stairs, I could hear Gazzy mutter about me reading the article. Ignoring the comment I wasn't met to hear, I slammed out the door, and into my car. Blasting Black Veil Brides as I zoomed down the street, it took me a good ten minutes to arrive at school. When I did, I shut my car off, and stomped over to where Lisa stood with her posse.

"What the hell!?" I screamed at her, punching the wall beside her head. She shrunk back, frightened by my behavior. Ignoring the pain in my, now bleeding, knuckles, I narrowed my eyes to slits and glared at her. As if regaining her calm, she moved closer to me, pressing one hand against my ass and another behind my neck.

"Listen, baby. Those were just rumors. Let's just go somewhere private and talk." Winking, she pressed her chest up against my own. My body screamed yes but my mind screamed no. I wasn't going to give in.

"No, get your filthy hands off me. We're through." With that, I backed up, and then walked away. The look(s) on her face-shocked, hurt, angry, and/or pouting-floated through my mind; haunting my thoughts as I walked to class.