Promises

Chapter 2

I walked out of the torture chamber slightly less pissed off than when I had entered the damn room. I turned the corner at the end of the hallway and into the "arts and crafts" room. It was basically the cafeteria with white, plastic table cloths covering the wooden tables so we wouldn't get glue, paint and/or glitter on them. I swear, all of this fucking white was getting on my damn nerves.

I sat down at my usual table, picking at the plastic while I waited for everyone else to slowly file into the room and take a seat. I had just managed to make a decent sized hole in the plastic when I saw a flash of movement in front of me. I looked up, only to see the new kid sitting in front of me.

Don't get me wrong, I took endless pleasure at staring at his face, but I didn't let anybody sit at my table. Ever. No acceptions.

So when he sat down across from me, I couldn't help but feel a slight bit annoyed at his ignorance of the rules in this place.

People started to take notice to, since other people sitting with me was a rare occurrence. They began to stare and whisper to each other, causing more stares and more whispers. I hated being the center of attention unless I personally caused it.

I glared at the kid and all but growled, "What the hell do you want?"

He was clearly not expecting this reaction, because he recoiled in his seat slightly and muttered, "Can I sit here?"

"Well obviously you can, seeing as you're doing it right now. The question is may you sit there, to which the answer is no, you may not." I said with a roll of my eyes.

"Why not?" He asked, confused.

"Because this is my damn table and mine alone." I emphasized "alone" so the he would get the message.

"Well who gave it to you?" He asked, obviously not getting the message.

"I gave it to myself as an early fucking birthday present. Now will you please fuck off?" I asked tiredly. Normally my glare was enough to cause people to run to a different table with their tail between their legs, but this one was a persistent little bitch.

"No, I'm entitled as much as you are to sit here, so I will." He replied with a huff.

"Okay A: No you are not entitled to sit here because it's my fucking table and B: I'm an annoying and stubborn piece of crap and I will make it my mission to get your ass out of here and make someone else deal with your shit, so if I were you, I would leave while I still had the chance." I don't even know why I wanted him to leave. I mean he was pretty hot and he didn't seem too bad. It's probably because, like I have already stated, I'm a stubborn piece of crap that will throw a hissy fit if they don't get their way.

"Is that a challenge?" He asked with his eyebrows raised.

"You bet your ass it is." I answered with a glare. But before he could respond, Patrick was standing next to me with a stack of papers in his right hand and a box of markers in his left.

"How's everything going over here, boys?" Patrick asked with a smile.

"Fucking fantastic." I replied sarcastically.

"Great!" New Kid smiled genuinely at Patrick. His fucking sunshine attitude was starting to get on my nerves, even more than the stupid color white that this hospital seemed to be obsessed with.

"That's good," Patrick replied cheerily, obviously ignoring the effort that I had put into my sarcastic comment, "So here are your papers and markers to draw with. Remember, if your art is good enough, it will be placed on the wall in the visiting room!" This might sound endearing and nice, but you could make one single line going through the damn page and they would put it on the wall.