More Than Words (On Hold)

Oakley

OAKLEY ^^^ I CHANGED TO HER BECAUSE SHE'S EFFING ADORABLE. SO YEAH.

I smiled weakly at my brother, who smiled back. The school in front of me looked like the opposite of where I wanted to be.

Which was in my house. In my room. Under my covers. Asleep.

But no matter how much I wanted to leave the school and never go back, I couldn't give him the pleasure of thinking it was him who drove me away. He would be the culprit, of course, but he didn't need to know that.

I turned back to Alex. He leaned down and pressed his lips to my forehead. I closed my eyes for a split second before stepping back. Taking a deep breath, I turned away from him.

Right when my booted foot hit the cold concrete of the parking lot, the first insult is thrown my way.

"Hey guys! It's Fugly Oakley!" Someone called out. It didn't rhyme, like they intended it to, but it still stung. I winced and continued, my head dipped.

"Yo, mutee! How's life?" Someone sneered at they approached me. I heard the all-too familiar sound of heels clacking on the ground. She didn't touch me, no one touched me. They couldn't touch me, or they'd be seeing it from my brother and his lawyers. Yes, he has more than one lawyer.

 "Hey! Say stuff when you're talked-" Really? Talked?- "to, Oakley," She said my name as though it left a rotten taste in her mouth, but the jock with his arm around her shoulders and a satisfied grin on his face made me think it wasn't my name that left the taste. (I couldn't resist)

 If you can believe it, she's not the worst of my bullies in this school. The worst is way more... disgusting. Although she would fall into the same category as him in the disgustful, which is a mix of disgusting and awful, section of school.

 I mean, you have on conversation with her and you immediately want to facepalm or throw a dictionary and possibly the English Grammar for Dummies book at her. It's usually both, though.

 "Why are you been so mean? Just answer me! God, you're such a witch!" She didn't say witch exactly, but I'm keepin' it on the down low for the cuss words.

 It's being, I corrected her silently, pursing my lips in agitation as I ignored her 'snide' remarks. Her smirk was evidence that she thought she had gotten to me.

 I didn't let this stuff get to me anymore. I ignored it as best I could, as if the people who hated me, for reasons unbeknownst to me, didn't exist. It worked, sometimes, but other times, it... didn't. 

Stepping around her was the only thing I could do, and it was what I did. I ignored her voice (that was so high it made me queasy) as she screamed insults at me.

 I just kept walking.

 Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Fang Westbrook, the cool pass of the school, give me a nod of respect he knew I saw. This was because even people who didn't know me knew how I watched my every surrounding like a hawk.

 I gave him a quick once over. He was leaning against the school building, an unlit cigarette between his full lips. If he thought that was cool he had another thing coming.

 His skin was tan, probably because it worked with his bad boy look. He wore an outfit that looked like the opposite of mine, a red t-shirt under a black leather jacket and a pair of black jeans that hugged his lean, muscular body perfectly. There were chains hanging from his belt loop, and his shoes were simple red vans. His black hair flopped over his icy blue eyes which were watching me with amusement and boredom.