OooOOOooO

Not So Crash Hot

Chapter Two

Regan Hates All Guys

OooOOOooO

"If Barbie is so popular, why do you have to buy her friends?"

"Never take life seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyway."

"Survivor is next week?" I shrieked, looking at the notice board.

"Yes Regan. We've known that since last year," Scott replied, speaking as if he was talking to a small child.

"Yeah, but next week? It's only the second day! NEXT WEEK?"

"Na, the week after," Lexie said sarcastically.

"But it says here next—Oh… You're joking. Ha ha very funny," I realised. Survivor is this camp we take for five days, so they can put us through hell for giggles and shits. Definitely evil. Last year we had to climb up a mountain! Well, not really… We had to walk for five hours up and down big hills. Sure, I have to be pretty damn fit to chase a ball up and down a field, but Survivor is torture. But it will be funny watching Tori and her cronies.

"Regan stop grinning like that. Last time you did that, Steph had black paint mysteriously dropped on her. What are you planning?" Lexie asked warily.

"Oh, it's going to be so much fun watching Tori and co.!" I cackled evilly.

"Okaaaay. Time for soccer!" Lexie pulled me towards the MPC to get changed. Or the Multiple Purpose Centre whatever you want to call it.

The rest of the team were already strapping on their shin guards, and by the time we were changed, we were the last in the room.

The boys trained on the field next to us; so, being the hormonal teenagers they are, they were all crowding around the field, watching the guys warm up.

"Now is practise time, not getting hormonal over a guy running time! Let's warm up before Coach gets here!" I yelled, ignoring the glares some of them sent my way. I looked over to the other field, and saw Logan looking at me. He blew me a kiss, so I stuck the big finger up at him.

"Train all you want, Shanahan, you'll never beat us!" he yelled.

My eyes narrowed. "We can whip your ass's any day and you know it! We've showed you enough times before, Williams!" I yelled back, before Logan's coach started yelling at him.

Hah! Take that! I got the last word! Heck yes.

I ran to catch up with the other girls jogging around the oval. After two laps, we stopped in the centre to stretch. Coach finally turned up.

"Sorry I'm late girls, traffic jam on the highway," she explained. "Good, you're all warmed up. We'll go straight to drills. I want you all to work hard, no slacking off just because it's the second day back. We've got a game this Saturday and I want you all fit!"

After a gruelling hour and a half of getting 'fit', we were finished.

"Can't give you a ride home today, sorry. Gotta pick up my annoying little sister," Lexie said, her lip curled.

Regan smiled. Lexie's sister, Annabelle, was six, and went to the local primary school. She was always either hyperactive, sleepy, or crying. And when she was hyperactive, it was complete mayhem. She would scream and run around in circles, or roll around on the ground. Her mum said it was just a 'phase'. But she could get away with anything if she pulled those puppy-dog eyes on you.

I waved bye, and looked for James. They were still practising, so I sat down on the bleaches and waited. I decided to take out my Calculus homework and work on it.

I was in the middle of a question when a ball slammed into the chair next to me. I jumped up, my homework falling to the ground, and looked at a grinning Logan.

"What the hell was that for?" I yelled, annoyed.

"You can just look outright, you don't have to hide behind homework, peeping through the sheets! I know you love it!"

I opened my mouth to reply but noticed that he had no top on. Don't look Regan, don't look, don't look— how much does he work out? I mean damn. He is effing se—

Ew! Gross! He's Logan Williams. The guy that turned on you in primary, he betrayed your trust! He's an asshole! I will not let you finish that thought.

"Enjoying the view?" I looked up to his face and saw that he was smirking. That insufferable prick!

"View? Why you—" I saw the ball lying in front of me innocently, and gave it a huge kick. It went flying through the air to thud in the middle of his well-toned—ugly chest. I wasn't striker for nothing. I felt intense satisfaction in the way he stumbled backwards a few steps.

"Williams! Stop flirting and get back here now!" His coach yelled.

"I'll get you back Shanahan," he threatened, glaring, smirk gone.

"Threatening a girl? How low have you sunken?" I asked, smirking. Yeah, da right! Regan 10 000, Logan 0!

I bent down, picked up my homework, and settled down again.

OooOOOooO

I felt something crash into me, startling me from the lovely black bliss. No, I didn't fall asleep in class again. I was sleeping cosily in my bed before Lexie jumped on top of me.

"Mmmm!" I said in Grunt Language, which roughly meant, 'what did you do that for? God, lose some pounds, you fat lard!'

"I do not need to lose a few pounds thank you very much! I am underweight for my height! Anyway, it's Friday! Do you know what's so good about Friday's? It's followed by Saturdays! And do you know what's on Saturday's? Soccer! No school! We're also going to the mall to shop for Survivor!" She squealed in my ear. I just pulled my cover over my head, adjusting to a more comfortable position.

Lexie started jumping on me. "Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey! Time to get up! It's a lovely day in Orlando, blue skies and bright sun!"

When this didn't work, she pulled down my blanket and I was confronted with two big hazel eyes.

"Fine! I'll buy you a strawberry thickshake on the way to school," she said reluctantly. I was immediately awake, and it was my turn to squeal. I loved thickshakes with a passion! Lexie knew how to get into my heart. And that, folks, is why I love her.

I jumped out of bed, making Lexie tumble to the ground, and grabbed a pair of dark tracksuit pants, a yellow top with a muffin on it, and green converses, and headed towards the shower.

Just because I'm evil, I looked over my shoulder to where Lexie was getting up off the ground, and said, "And don't jump Logan whilst I'm gone! Best behaviour Duffman!"

Lexie turned bright red, and I ran into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind me.

I turned around and screamed.

"What are you doing in my bathroom?" I yelled at Logan, who was standing there brushing his teeth. He was wearing a grey polo shirt and loose jeans. The shirt fit him perfectly, highlighting all of his muscles. He looked hot.

I. Did. Not. Just. Think. That!

Must be the morning. My brain never works in the morning! Insert nervous chuckle.

"Your bathroom? This is actually the whole house's bathroom." His gave wandered over me, making me want to slap him. He smirked. "Nice pyjamas."

I realised with horror what I was wearing. My PJ's consisted of a loose Napoleon Dynamite shirt, which read, 'Flippin' Sweet', and a pair of extremely short blue boxers. I went an interesting shade of red.

"Maybe I was wrong the other day, you do have nice thighs. Very nice," he looked me over again, his eyes lingering on my legs. I lost it.

"Get the fuck out of my bathroom before I make you! You insolent, bratty, fugly, dirty bastard!" I slammed open the door, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

"I'm going. God, don't murder me," he muttered, swaggering through the doorway. "Oh, and it's you we need to worry about 'jumping' me. We all know about that little crush you have on me," he added over his shoulder. I slammed the door after him, letting out a scream of frustration.

I hate Logan Williams.

A thought occurred to me as I was stepping into the shower. He brushes his teeth here as well? Why doesn't he just live here?

OooOOOooO

The warning bell rang just as Lexie and I were stepping out of the car.

"Right on time. Oh right!" I was in a much better mood than before, since Lexie had bought me the promised strawberry thickshake.

"What do you have?" Lexie asked, as we got the books out of our lockers. I quickly checked my timetable.

"French," I said with a sigh. Sure, I liked French, but it was one of the only classes I had without any of my close friends in. And the teacher was a bastard.

"I have Spanish. Laters!" she said with a British accent, twiddling her fingers at me and making me laugh. Ah, how I love that girl.

I walked into the French room just as the bell went. The teacher, Mr Harrison, wasn't there yet, so I walked over to my desk at the back corner of the room.

Only to find it was taken.

"Who're you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. The guy in my seat was new. And hot. There was no doubt about it; with his messy black hair and emerald eyes he was fine. He was dressed in black Marilyn Manson top, with a black jumper over the top and dark baggy jeans. Don't get me wrong, he wasn't Goth; he looked more like he belonged with James and his 'popular' group.

"Tyler Madgewick. And you?" He asked, doing this little flick with his hair.

I ignored his last question. "I take it you're new here?" he nodded. "Well, this is my seat, and kindly remove yourself from it," I said with a sickly sweet smile.

I'm sorry," he emphasized the last word with a smirk, "but I won't move until you tell me your name," he quirked an eyebrow at me.

My eyes narrowed. I wanted my seat, and the only other spare seat was next to the window with the nerds, but my pride forbade me to tell him my name.

"Fine. Never mind then," I said, and with a last fake smile, strode over to the other seat.

Regan Shanahan does not like boys. Except for James. And Scott. And Zac. But the list ends there.

I sat down, ignoring the glances the guy next to me kept sending me. His face was covered in pimples, and he wore thick glasses, making his eyes look bigger. He noticed me looking and smiled at me. It was not a nice smile.

"I'm Shane," he said as he held out his hand. I ignored him and turned around to where Tyler was sitting, looking smug. I shot him a dirty, all my anger in that one glare.

Mr Harrison walked in, saving me from Shane's corny pick-up lines.

"Bonjour, tout le monde! Comment allez vous?" he asked in his disgustingly high voice. Maybe he was castrated when he was younger… The translation to what he said pooped up in my head. Hello everyone! How are you?

We responded with our usual, "Ca va bien, merci." This meant, I'm well, thanks. I just mumbled it, uncaring.

Mr Harrison started the lesson. Whilst he was turned around, writing on the board, I started doodling on my book.

A shadow fell over my page. I glanced up to see Mr Harrison was standing right in front of me, looking at my pictures through narrowed eyes.

"This is not Past Participles! Have you even looked at the board?" he asked shrilly.

"God, ease up. I can catch up," I answered back, not caring that his face was slowly going red. I went back to my drawing of my soccer balls, ignoring that he was clearing his throat. There were quickly muffled snorts of laughter throughout the classroom.

"Miss Shanahan!" he shrieked at last, "Do not take that tone with me! I put up with your rudeness last year but I will not tolerate it this year! I am putting my foot down!"

I snorted. "Whatever." I looked back up at him. "What are you going to do? Send me to the principal? Give me a detention? Make me clean the black board erasers?" I said the last with a sneer, coming to my self-control limits. This is not my day. I watched, amused, as veins started popping out on his neck and temple. Bad sign.

"Miss Regan Shanahan! You will report straight to the Principal! And don't come back until you have improved your manners!"

"Mr Harrison! Yes sir!" I picked up my bag and stalked out of the classroom, ignoring the classes giggles and Tyler's smirk and raised eyebrow. Stuff them all.

OooOOOooO

"Miss Shanahan. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Mr Randal asked dryly, as I collapsed into the chair.

"What do you think?"

"The logical part of my brain says that you were rude to your teacher, yet the hopeful part of my brain wishes that you were sent here because you showed outstanding behaviour and grades."

"Hey! I do get good grades! Just that the teacher's here don't like me! Except for Mrs. Hunter, but she likes everyone!"

Mrs Hunter was the music teacher, and also my favourite teacher.

He sighed. "I take it you're in here because you were rude? What class?"

"French with Mr. Harrison. You know how mean he is to me!"

"Well, you are quite rude to him. And all the other teachers here." He held up a hand to stop me from interrupting. "Miss Regan, you have an attitude problem and obviously detention does nothing to curb it. I have decided to start you on counselling sessions with Miss Summer."

"But sir, no! Have mercy! I promise I'll no longer be rude, I pinkie promise! I'll swear on the bible, just not counselling!"

He ignored my desperate pleas for mercy. "They start this afternoon and are on every Wednesday and Friday afternoon for the next five weeks. If you have progressed, I will stop the classes, but if I see no improvement, the sessions will go on for longer."

I looked at him helplessly. Mr. Randal is so totally not on my favourite person list anymore.

I decided to be childish. "Well you know what? I don't care, because you're no longer on my favourite person list!" I held up a hand to his invisible protests. "No! I will not be swayed from this decision. Goodbye Principal Randal who-is-no-longer-a-friend-of-mine!"

And with that, I stalked out of the office, nearly crashing into Tyler. Great. Another one of my favourite people. Note the sarcasm?

"Great speech! Couldn't have done better myself," he smirked, clapping his hands. I rounded on him.

"I don't need your funny comments at the moment! Go eat some horse shit for all I care!"

I stalked out of the room, but not before I heard his mutter, "God, what flew up your ass and died?"

I slammed the door as hard as I could. The freshmen whose lockers were around the Office, cowered against the walls as I stalked past, shrinking beneath my murderous glare. I strode out onto the oval. So I was bludging. Sue me.

I walked out onto the oval and sat down on far side, watching the sophomores playing touch football.

Another figure walked out onto the oval, but I ignored it. I just needed to calm down. What was that technique on Anger Management? Oh yes.

Goosefraba! Breathe in, out. Goosefraba—

"Can I sit here?" Tyler asked

"No," I answered stubbornly, but he sat down anyway. On the upside, at least he's better than Logan.

We sat in silence for a while, me fuming, him just sitting there naturally, looking as if he didn't have a care in the world.
"You do realize you're bludging?" he asked at last.

"Am I really? Sugar honey ice tea, I didn't realise!" I answered sarcastically.

"Look, I'm sorry," he suddenly blurted out, after another silence.

I thought for a while, before getting up.

"Regan Shanahan," I uttered, before walking off to the dining room.

OooOOOooO

"Regan, I think you have an anger problem."
"I. Don't. Have. An. Anger problem," I said through gritted teeth. Stupid counselling. This had been going on for about half an hour.

I was sitting in a small room that looked as if it used to be a janitor closet, with another person I hate. I don't think I like too many people…

"What makes you so… frustrated?"

You.

"Nothing."

"No, there is something! Or is it someone? One of your friends?"

You

"No one. I am free and serene," I answered sarcastically.

"Miss Shanahan, we are not getting anywhere. Here listen to this music and then tell me what makes you angry." She leaned over to the CD player and pressed play.

"Get in a comfortable position, all muscles loose and relaxed. Breathe evenly. In, one two three, out, three two one, in, one two three, out, three two one. Now that your breathing is even, imagine the number three in your head, and say mentally, 'three… three… three'. Now picture the number two in your head and say mentally, 'two… two… tw—"

The CD stopped as I unplugged the cord forcefully, throwing it away from me.

"Do you really want to know what's making me angry? You, that shitty CD, and this whole freaking class!" I yelled, chest heaving.

"Good Regan just let it out. Let it all go! Be like the eagle, proud and beautiful, flying high in the sky without a care in the world. Just let it all out," Miss Summers said serenely, waving her bangle clad arms around, oblivious to the fact that I was still glaring daggers at her and my fists were clenched. Stupid hippie.

"Miss Summers. I am the eagle, proud and free, soaring through air," I answered in the same tone she used on me. "Now can I go?"

"You must learn to be free! To have no anger! To find what it is that anger's you so, and work it out! I think next lesson we might try some yoga, or some more breathing techniques."

"Miss, I have no anger, I don't need to know yoga."

"Oh, but you do! Everyone does! You know what's really good for stress? Bike riding! Yes, we'll do that next lesson! Come prepared my dear. You may leave now." She waved at the door.

I walked out, grabbed my bag and made my way over to where James and Logan were leaning against James's car, waiting for me. I really needed to get my licence.

"How was counselling, Reggie-Ray?" Logan smirked.

I smiled pleasantly at him. "You're the one who'll be needing counselling once I'm through with you."

His smirk faltered, but then reappeared. "All talk, Reggie-Ray? You would never harm the love of your life."

"I. Do. Not. Love. You. Nor do I have a crush on you. The only feelings I have towards you are hateful ones."

"Denial ain't just a river in Egypt," James commented.

"What the hell James? Hurry up, I want to get home tonight," I answered, hopping into the backseat of his car, putting my legs up on the seat and folding my arms, glaring out the window.

Logan snickered.

I turned to him, the pleasant smile back on. "You don't get to talk. James, the same goes for you."

The trip home was silent.

OooOOOooO

I was shovelling food into my mouth and strapping my shin pads on when I heard Lexie beeping outside.

With my shin pads half on, I ran out the door, passing Tori on the way.

"Ew. Seriously, they should like, put you in a zoo or something, Regan. That's disgusting," she muttered. I just flipped her the bird.

Lexie beeped again. "God, shut up Duffman! I'm coming!" I yelled around my mouthful of toast. It came out more like, "Mod, hut mm, Dufan! E eeing!"

She understood me.

Luckily, we weren't that late. Everyone else was already there and halfway through their warm-ups.

"It's about time you turned up, Shanahan."

Did I say Steph was on my team? Yeah… Well she is. She has this extra-grudge against me because I'm the soccer captain, and she's not. Pff. She can hardly even play!

I just ignored, as per usual.

We were about to go on when I heard a male voice yell, "Go Shanahan!"

I froze.

I knew that voice. It wasn't the Bane of my Existence, but someone who was well on his way to getting there.

"Madgewick, what the hell are you doing here?" I asked, turning around to face him. He was wearing black shorts and a grey top. Black. Typical.

"My sister's playing," he answered.

I scanned my memory. "No one has the same last name as you. Sorry! Must be the wrong game." I smiled and turned away.

"No, Steph's my sister. Our parents divorced and I took my mother's name, whilst she kept hers," he explained.

"Steph? Ew. Poor you. Ah well, life goes on."

I ran onto the field, taking my place as forward.

The second half was nearly up, and we were tied two all. I had the ball and was dribbling it down the wing, passing to Lexie who was flanking me. She skilfully passed two defenders trying to tackle her.

We were right in front of the goal when she kicked it sideways to where I was standing. I stopped it with my left foot, and smashed it with my right, throwing out my arms to keep my balance. I saw a bright flash of a camera as the ball went sailing past the tips of the goalies.

I let out a massive whoop, flying into the arms of Lexie.

"We did it! We did it!"

The referee blew the whistle that signalled the end of the game and the rest of the team came flying towards us to join in our huddle.

All except Steph.

She just stalked off the field, grabbing Tyler by the arm and dragging him to his car. He managed to wave goodbye at me and stick his thumbs up at me.

I just laughed, caught up in the jubilation.