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And then him.
The quarterback.
He doesn’t have a cheerleader though. No, he has a chess player instead. A nerdy, uppity-looking dude who somehow infiltrated the ranks of top popularity, all because he’s sucking the dick of the King of the school himself.
Vale Riviera.
I smirk as the name rolls around my head.
Rivierrrra.
Sounds like something you’d say as you wave a wand at a feather to make it levitate.
“Hey, Jailbait! Nice blowie,” someone yells out, loud enough to be heard through the music playing in my ears. My eyes meet the laughing blue gaze of the guy I’ve deduced is Vale’s best friend.
Big, pretty, and blond, and not very smart. Casey Shrute.
I catch Vale just as he shoots his friend a weird look, almost like he’s amused, but also like he’s annoyed. He wears that look on him a lot from what I’ve seen.
With my thumb, I lower the volume on my Walkman just in time to hear Casey say, “Sorry, I meant blow pop. My bad.”
I barely pay him any notice.
Pulling the lollipop out of my mouth, I meet Vale’s dark, hardened gaze as I give a nice salacious lick of the bulbous candy, and wink.
His eyes widen ever so slightly. Features darkening, pulling tight, before he seems to retreat altogether. His chiseled, perfect face, hard and unmoving as ever.
Gotcha, I think, twisting my lips together to hold back a smile.
“Fucking freak,” that bitch attached to Casey’s arm like a leech barks out.
I snap my teeth at her, before facing forward once more, popping the lolly back into my mouth. Cranking the music back up, I go on my merry way.
The song playing in my ears fades, switching over to another, so I can just make out the words trailing behind me. “Jesus Christ, did he even look in a mirror when he got dressed today?”
My mouth gapes at nothing in front of me, their words almost halting me in my tracks. How dare they??
Pretty sure that was dear old Seth who said that, Vale’s nerdy little bitch boyfriend.
Glancing down at my feet as I keep moving, I bite back the urge to turn around and claw off his face.
He’s got a nice face, I can admit that. Smooth and blemish-free. Pretty, I suppose.
It would be fun to slash it all up with my nails.
I stare down at my socks peeking out from my rolled-up khakis, ensuring no one would miss them. What’s fun about fun socks if you can’t even see them?
They’re orange with little pink hearts on them. A combination of my two most favorite days of the year, one of which being Halloween, which is right around the corner.
I may have also stolen—I mean, borrowed—one of Tillie’s cashmere scarves. It’s orange with little gold tassels. I’ll have to take it off once I get to homeroom, but hopefully they’ll let me keep the khakis rolled up.
The whole uniform thing stopped being fun after the first week, when I realized once again, my individuality was being stifled by an institution. So I’ve done what I can to spice it up without totally violating the rules.
Rules, rules, rules.
I swear I’ve only traded one prison for another by coming to this place.
Difference is, here, I can more easily find a way to bend the rules. And that makes it fun.
