37The Devil and I
Chapter 1: Thorns and Roses
Life wasn't always sugar, roses and sunshine for me. I didn't have everything handed to me on a silver platter with pretty floral designs. I wasn't necessarily given everything I wanted, but I acquired it one way or another. I lived in an average suburban house with an average family in an average town.
Average was simply the best word to describe my life. I wasn't pretty, nor was I ugly. My parents weren't abusive, but I hated them all the same. My sister was pesky, but I couldn't imagine life without her. My school was chockfull of every stereotype imaginable, and my friends were nothing extraordinary.
I was moping about my dull life during second hour when the announcements snapped me out of my reverie. As the introductory song faded away, an overly cheerful voice boomed from the speakers, "And now the winners of Battle of the Bands!"
Why couldn't I join something like Battle of the Bands? I couldn't sing too well, and I couldn't play any instruments… I sulked. So I had no musical talent. Big deal. I scowled at the grinning face of the student announcer. Who could be this cheerful on a Monday morning?
The class passed quickly and I took my time getting to third hour. I was usually one of the first to Bio AP because my Latin class was just a staircase away. I dropped my backpack and slid into my seat, pondering whether I did my homework or not when a couple of girls walked in. One of them happened to be a so-so friend, Alexis, and the other I despised with every inch of my being.
Problem was that she-Carol-had no idea. She had the whole we're-cool-and-we're-friends thing going on. I pretended that she was nonexistent. Why? Well, she was giggly and very ditzy. Smart, yet pretty. Everyone-even my best friends!-adored her. And guys simply drooled over her, yet she'd be the type to hold up a pretty pink parasol with lace around the sides that everyone thinks is oh so endearing and look cute at the same time while fending off the disgusting saliva.
Call me a jealous bitch, but this pretty Miss Perfect had a talent for getting on my nerves. Not that I wanted a pink parasol or anything. I'd prefer orange.
The duo walked in and were chattering about AP English. They were lab partners, and sat in front of me, yet disregarded me unless I had my own piece to put in.
"Can you believe she actually gave us that project?" Carol squealed.
I stared at the back of her smooth, dark brown hair and slowly shook my head. How did people deal with her, much less worship her? I leaned back in my seat and was careful crafting a paper football to fling into my teacher's crazy cat-just-spit-me-out hair when the rest of the class decided to walk in and crowd Miss Perfect's desk. I glared at the crowd for blocking my view of Mrs. Schaeffer. Nonetheless, I aimed the paper football with precision.
Schaeffer was at her desk, head bent over a stack of papers. The woman definitely needed a pair of glasses. I slid my chair away and kneeled on the floor, coming to eye level with the bit of paper. My finger struck out and with a snap inaudible to all but me, it flew across the room.
And straight into Judd Parker's forehead. Oh, shit.
Allow me to introduce Judd Parker: Football player, bulky, scary, big-boned. Did I mention abnormally temperamental? When this kid had something to be mad about, he took it to the extreme. Hell, he didn't have a problem with beating up anyone. Even his football coach!
I immediately threw myself under the lab table, praying that he hadn't seen me. Of course, I was in no such luck, since the entire crowd at Carol and Alexis's table had gone quiet and shuffled around to find the guilty one. Judd Parker's sneakers thumped up to my table.
I couldn't help noticing that his sneakers were disgusting. The originally white gym shoes were yellow, the laces mud-crusted, and there were tears here and there. I had a small shred of luck, though. I had been holding my breath from the start, so I wasn't forced to endure any odor that his sneakers emitted.
"Wesson!" I winced. "You fucking bitch! I'm gonna dig your grave in this fucking classroom!"
I gathered my wits and peeked up to see his face a hue of scarlet. I couldn't help myself. "You do understand that we're on the third floor, right?"
He swung at me. Looking back, I recall a few gasps and people shouting "Go, Parker!"
I ducked down again, so his fist connected with the edge of the desk. He grunted. I was letting out a sigh of relief when an arm suddenly pulled me out. Before I knew it, a fist struck my chin. My teeth caught my lower lip. The skin tore and a torrent of blood splashed over my chin."What the fuck?" I was angrier than I was scared now.
I clawed at him with my nails. I kicked out as well, but flat-heeled sandals weren't accountable as weapons. Good lord, why did you make me female? Despite both these attempts, I was kicked in the stomach. The sudden urge to vomit took all my attention away from the fight.
Bad move.
He aimed for my belly again, and this time, I did puke. All over his practice jersey and shoes. My stomach had been queasy all morning. I spat onto the floor and wiped my mouth with my sleeve. Looking up, I was met with silence. Eyes were either on me or Judd Parker, and Judd was staring at his clothes in complete shock. I took it as my cue to leave.
Mrs. Schaeffer was returning to the room. I ignored her and dashed away and down the stairs. Now and then I reached up to wipe my mouth. A foul taste lingered, and I gagged a few times. My breakfast had consisted of a bowl of Cheerios and a scoop of ice cream, and was presently displayed on Judd Parker. Yuck. I rinsed my mouth at a water fountain and stopped by the nurse's office.
Mr. Lowe was our school nurse. Mr. Lowe was bald, wore glasses, and had every physical aspect of an evil genius. The effect was ruined though, by a white apron adorned with the words "EAT ME" and little muffins with psychotic grins. I shuddered. Might as well make the most of it.
I entered the room and shrieked, "I'm dying!" Cough Gag. Grab throat. Fall to floor. I twitched a few times for added effect.
Mr. Lowe didn't bat an eyelash. "Are you done, Miss Wesson?"
I opened an eye. "Quite." Mr. Lowe gave me a wad of napkins and an ice pack before shooing me out. In my freshman year, I'd been somewhat of a regular to the clinic. It wasn't that bullies picked on me. Hell, I was the one who picked on the bullies. I felt an urge to defend the weak and beat the rich completely shitless. My sophomore year was spent skipping classes and moping. I brought my grades back up in junior year and took the path of righteousness. Note sarcasm.
I was presently spending my senior year mocking and criticizing basically everyone, while simultaneously keeping my grades above average. The few friends that I had were accustomed to my routine insults by now, yet others found my directness unnerving.
Grimacing at the feel of the ice pack against my lips, I moved it away. I exited the school through the back entrance. After settling on the steps, I dozed for about ten minutes before being interrupted.
The sun was warming my face, and my eyes were half-closed when a great blob obscured my vision. I licked my chapped and mauled lips before opening my eyes.
"Fuck off," I muttered. I had no intention of ending my noon nap.
"Girl's gym is about to come out here," said the person
I opened one eye. "So?"
"So you'll risk getting busted?"
Blinking a few times, I narrowed my eyes. It was Dumb and Dumber, or better known as Scott Yardley and Rustin Howe. They were known for rating girls-mostly their butts-and the only time they'd tried rating me was in my freshman year. I'd threatened to give their balls a bashing if they attempted it again.
I opened my mouth to reply when another shadow loomed over me. "Miss Wesson, why aren't you in class?"
"Because the world's most disgusting shoe-wearing bully beat the sh-"
"All right! I get the picture."
I grimaced. "Do you?"
"It's fourth hour now. I'm guessing you have lunch?"
"Thanks for reminding me." I picked up my bag and shot toward the cafeteria. After obtaining my usual cup of fries, I headed in the direction of my usual table. I froze when I saw it.
In my seat, which my friends always saved for me, sat… You guessed it.
Carol Eaton. Delicately chewing a horrible green leaf from her salad and giggling appreciatively at some football stud's joke. Wait… When did football studs start hanging around my table? I scanned the rest of the crowd. It was occupied by my friends as well as several of Carol's zero-calorie friends, some of whom I was acquainted with. Even members of my soccer team huddled around them. Monica Montez, also at the table, saw me blinking in confusion and waved me over. Slowly, I made my way to her side.
"Hey, Lil, can I steal a fry?" Monica was short, petite, and had a pretty moon-face. She was nice enough, but extremely nosy, which could be useful at times.
"Sure. Just tell me what the hell is going on."
She munched on the fries-note the plural-and complied. "Carol's got tickets to some concert. And there's a really yummy exchange student from France… or was it England…?"
I was already pushing my way through the throng which was growing thicker by the minute. It was sickening, really, how much power she had over the student body which consisted of some two thousand students. Hell, she could form her own miniature army.
Before approaching her, though, I pasted a jaunty grin on my face. Numerous people gave me uneasy looks. Apparently they'd heard of the Judd Parker fiasco.
"Oh, Lilah! Are you okay?" She reached out and touched my arm. Her green eyes were bright with innocence.
"Fine. So, what's up?"
She giggled and twirled her rain-straight brown hair around a finger. Gag me, please, before I vomit again. "Nothing. I'm going to the Yellowcard concert on Sunday." Ha. And that was nothing? I wasn't a huge fan of Yellowcard, but their songs were pretty good.
"Cool. Have you met that exchange student from, ah, was it France?"
"He's from England, and his accent is so cute!" She struck up a conversation with her friends about the mystery man. From what I caught, he would be staying for the remainder of the week at the school, and would report back to England on Sunday. I also caught a snippet about Irene Lee's party on Saturday before being hauled into breathable atmosphere again. God, the mesh of Liv Tyler perfume and leather Gucci purses was suffocating. My sister owned all too much Gucci gear, and had bought me Liv Tyler's Givenchi perfume for my last birthday, so I was familiar with the two.
I turned around to thank my savior, only to realize it was my assailant all too late. A fist connected with my face, and I was thrown backwards into someone else. Could the day get any worse? Apparently so, because Judd took the opportunity to kick me in the shins before I was pulled away.
Feeling something warm trickle down my face, I splayed my fingers over my face to catch droplets of blood flowing from my nose. My left eye was burning, and my head throbbed relentlessly. I swore.
I busted my lip, puked, missed class, received a black eye and splitting headache, and was ignored by my friends all on the same day. Now I simply wanted to crumple up and cry somewhere. It was an awfully foreign feeling, and I had no idea how to control it. Holding my breath, I tore through the silent cafeteria full of spectators, through the double doors that led outside, past the grounds, and finally to a crop of young trees before breaking down. I slid down a tree, curling into a fetal position. I tried stifling my blubbering with the sleeve of my hoodie, only to find it wet with tears and blood. Somehow, that stimulated even more bawling.
When something wet and cold touched my neck, I shuddered and abruptly tried to straighten.
"Sit down." The voice was firm. There was also something unusual about it… Yet in my hazy state of mind, I couldn't identify it. "This is for your eye." An icepack and a neatly folded handkerchief were pressed into my hands. Sniffling a bit, I caught words embroidered onto the kerchief.
If you want to pick roses, do not fear the thorns.
I grinned. "Faulty logic."
"Is it?" It was then that I realized what was odd about his voice. He had an English accent. I slowly shifted my gaze to the form sitting beside me.
He literally-literally!-stole my breath. The only way to describe him was angelic, yet he had an aura of sinfulness and sophistication that would make almost any girl swoon. His hair was an ashy blonde, and curled up at the ends. A few strands suspended over his eyes. Now, his eyes were something else entirely. They were a vivid blue and slightly narrowed with concern, yet twinkled playfully. I was even close enough to detect pale speckles of silver near the pupils. He was tall, even while sitting down, and a white polo shirt displayed his strong, lean frame.
I definitely wasn't above appreciating gorgeous men from afar, but honestly, this was too close for my comfort.
Grabbing my keys from my bag, I touched the icepack gingerly against my left eye. "I have to go."
And I left.
Hihi. Since Hear the Devil Whisper isn't going too well, I'm trying out The Devil and I to see how it goes. :) I can't concentrate on one story, so I enjoy doing several at a time. Please review and tell me where I can improve. Until the next chapter, then. :D Toodles.
-M.T. Duhaime