Chapter 3: ijustlovemesomefriedchicken.
Miss Langham; such a loveable character. She just has such a fantastic sense of humour, great patience with the mischievous likes of I and so many other particles of her beautiful personality that make her such a marvellous woman. Such a marvellous woman. I have plenty of time to think of this as I'm sat in detention for over an hour, pondering over my chances of getting a quick shut-eye. I could just doze back in my chair until I hear her coming or I could take a chance and full-out sleep or I could-
"Psst. Hey, scumbag!"
My head shoots up to the door where there is stood none other than Carrie, that bitch of a cow that landed me in here. Her hair is bouncy and curly as always- yet still sits perfectly, which I will never understand- as she peeks around the door frame at me; there's so smile, no wave- no surprises there- but I can tell she's been peeking into many a classroom, looking for me.
"Look what the cat dragged it. Not before dragging it through three hedges backwards first, of course," I smile, nodding towards her hair.
She simply rolls her eyes at me like I'm her annoying little brother; Thomas, I believe his name is. Or maybe it's Dean. I'd be lying if I said I'd ever gave a damn about Carrie in that way before. "Real mature, sleasebag. Where's bitch-face got to, then?"
It's then I notice Miss Langham stood directly behind her and I have to hide the smirk that's threatening to take it's usual place on my face. And not just the usual one that I save just to annoy the shit out of Carrie, I mean the normal Alex one too. I catch my sworn enemy of a teacher's eye for a split second before returning my gaze to Carrie, my even more so sworn enemy, who has crossed her arms over her chest. "Didn't you see her?"
"Do you think I'd be asking if I'd seen her? You can't exactly miss an arse that size, can you?"
I let out a snort as I see Miss Langham's face; it went from curiousity, to shock and now to anger. Her little pet bitching about her behind her back. Oh dearie me. "Miss Fletcher!" she shouts at her as her student jumps five feet in the air and practically twirls around to meet her angry gaze. Oh boy, she's pissed off.
"Oh...uh, hi miss..."
"Care to repeat what you just told your little..." she pauses for a second as she tries to think of the correct word to put in use. She knows of our antics like the back of her hand, but is slightly too professional to say anything that gives us a status other than stupid and childish. One eyebrow finally rises are she decides to say, "Your little...friend...Mr Day?"
"Well you already know the answer to that one, miss. Just as you know that cretin certainly isn't my friend. I was only joking around, though, there's nothing wrong with your bum...much..."
Ten minutes later I was no longer alone in the room. "I hate you," she informed me matter-of-factly from across the room- as far away from me as she could get.
"I hate you more, Princess," I smiled back.
She starts to stare off into space as she asks me in a perfectly light and innocent tone, "Y'know what I'm thinking about right now?"
"About me banging your brains out again right here in the middle of the school where anyone could hear us? That would excite a little slut like you, wouldn't it?" I suggest with a small smirk.
She doesn't even scowl at me, instead keeping her calm and collected voice. "No, I'm imagining the ground made of your balls so I could just walk all over them all day long and cause you as much pain as humanly possible."
"If I'm the ground, you're the sewer, Princess."
I'm running a bit late, I had to help Tom with his homework. I'll be round shortly Prat.
I don't bother to reply; what would I say anyway? I throw my phone down onto my bed where it bounces once, twice, three times before sitting still, then closely followed by myself. It's not like I'm desperate to see her or anything, but part of me just wishes her brother had done his sums a hell of a lot faster. You're bored, I tell myself. You're just really really damn bored.
Homework? None of that, for a change. Tumblr? No way am I getting sucked into that black hole. Guitar? Too noisey. Computer? Left it downstairs. Music? Headphones are on the dining room table. Xbox? Nope. Well, shit.
Personally I hate all of this sneaking around at night, but Carrie refuses to see me at any other time in case someone spots her and ruins both of our reputations, and I'm not gonna argue with her. Would you argue with Carrie Fletcher? No, didn't think so. Especially when she could just leave me at any time and not come back; the scary thing is, she would do that. And we're both aware of that small fact.
Even when she got me a detention, even through all the insults...she turns me on, I can't lie to anyone about that. She's crafty, annoying and I fucking hate her, but she's a complete turn on. I've seen her at her most vulnerable as she gasps beneath the sheets, but she lets none of it take any chink of her pride as she continues to treat me like her little toy. Maybe that's all I am, but I'm a toy that could never properly be completely hers. And that's where our little issues come in; where do we stand with each other?
"Maybe I am.." I mumble as I make another grab for the phone. Where the bloody hell is she?
A cough behind me almost scares the life out of me, but I know full well she's nothing to be scared of this late at night. A kitty cat with no claws and no one to show them off to even if she did. "Hi Carrie," I greet her, as I turn around. "Uh...what's with the...uh...guitar...?"
"I just thought maybe we could have a little change in plans. It sure gets boring doing the same thing every night, right?"
I let out a short one-syllable chuckle."I am in no way boring, and don't you fucking know i-"
"Don't."
I'm taken aback, to be quite honest. Stunned into an abrupt silence. Carrie turning down a chance to argue, insult and humiliate me? Pinch me. "So, uh...?"
"You do play, don't you?" she asks, glancing over at the guitar in the corner- bashed, decorated and the strings akimbo out the sides- before her eyes dart back to me.
"Well yeah, but-"
"Look, if you'd rather just make out that's completely understandable, since-"
"You're being nice to me..." I frown.
"Right little Sherlock we've got here, haven't we?" she chuckles.
My frown becomes tighter. "What are you after?"
"Nothing. I just thought maybe we could just...hang out?" she smiles sheepishly at me. She's being friendly and acting shy towards me, reproachful. No, this is weird. This isn't right. Shock is a very hard emotion to receive and to hide. She's being nice to me; it hits me like a hard bitch slap to the face and Carrie can see full well what abuse it carried out.
"So, you just wanna-?"
"Yeah," she smiles.
Again the question pops into my mind; where do we stand? I want to ask it so terribly badly as I grab my guitar and we sit on my bed, but I keep my lips clamped as she releases the most beautiful singing voice I have ever heard.
Ahhh plot twist! How curious :D Fantastic work, next chapter should be up soon :) xxx pants