Irritable Love

Chapter 2

The rest of my day was a blur of ignoring anyone on a sports team. I had already had enough of their cocky attitudes today and it was only first period. As I trudged home carrying my heavy books, my streak of ignoring came to an end when Jerk Jock, Chad, appeared. He wore the same dark jeans, Under Armor jacket, and arrogant smirk. He's undeniably attractive, but his presumptuous attitude ruins anything his appearance offers. He strutted over to me and crossed his arms.

"This is all your fault," he blamed.

"How is any of this my fault," I questioned angrily.

"If you had just been nice," he explained, "Nothing would've happened."

"If you hadn't spoke, I retorted, "Nothing would've happened."

"Look. If we're going to be stuck together all this week, you're going to have to be nice," he demanded.

"If I recall correctly, you weren't even going to attend," I pointed out.

"I can't have anything else on my record," he expressed.

I glanced at him suspiciously. "You care about your record?"

"Colleges don't accept football players who can't control themselves."

Remembering this morning I responded mockingly. "Then you'll never be accepted."

He narrowed his eyes. "We'll see."

He turned and jogged over to his teammates. In the middle of his jog, he stopped and turned to face me slowly. He winked and said something that no one ever had.

"You're lucky you're pretty."

While I attempted to regain my composure, he finally reached his buddies. I quickly turned to hide my reddening face. No one has ever called me pretty before. It came as a shock that my enemy would be the one to say it.

I continued to walk home because my parents seem to think I should never use public transportation, but they're too busy to pick me up themselves. This means I have a 2 mile walk to our home. Most of the time, it doesn't feel like a home. It's pristine and cold, almost like a museum. You can walk in and observe the beauty, but you can't touch. A home is where memories are made, where families laugh together. Our house is not a home. It's only a house.

I walked in and called out to my parents. "Hello?" I received no reply.

Sighing internally, I began my long hike upstairs. My parents' impressive paychecks have provided us with a luxurious house with extravagant appliances. The worst part is the excessive stairs I must climb to reach my room.

My room is the only place in the house that doesn't feel like an exhibit. I've added posters and paintings I've created. I painted my walls like a peaceful meadow to distract myself from my stressful life. If I could choose my profession, I would be an artist. Unfortunately, I don't have the luxury of choosing my career. My parents do. I, Amelia Surg, have been destined to become a powerful lawyer since my birth. The path my life is on has been centered around following their footsteps. It's hard to imagine what it would feel like to be free to make my own choices, free to be who I choose. But I'm stuck on my parents leash, and I don't have much room to move.

I start opening my backpack and dragging out large textbooks that I've broke my back carrying. Deciding to start with history, I open up the book and begin my homework only to hear my phone ring as I start. Smiling at the Caller ID, I answer quickly.

"Hey Caroline," I start.

"Sup Amelia," she answers.

I laugh and continue. "What's up."

"I just got us two, hot...twins! Can you believe it? Time for a double date," she squeals.

"You know I'm not interested in that kind of thing," I objected.

"C'mon Millie, it'll be fun! Do it for me," she pleaded.

"Fine," I conceded.

"Yes! I love you so much," she giggled with a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah," I replied. "Now let me do my homework."

"Okay," she answered, "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, " I reply before hanging up.

Caroline is my best friend, my only friend. I would do anything for her, including going on dates that never end well. She's known me since second grade when we discovered a ghost in the girls' bathroom. We ran around the hallways squealing and yelling "A ghost! A ghost!" until our teacher scolded us. We later discovered that the "ghost" was a small rat running around. Since our discovery, we haven't been separable.

As I was finishing up the rest of my homework, I felt my phone buzz. I groaned and continued on, deciding that I'd check when I'd finished. My phone buzzed again impatiently and I reached to check it. The number shown wasn't on my contact list and had sent me two messages.

"You are pretty."
"Sorry for being a jerk."

Now who could this be...