Spyincs

Prologue - The Breakup

A/N: This is an actual book that I want to get published someday. It'd be fabulous if I could get feedback, because I really need to get off of my ass and start writing if I ever want to get this up and running, and I'd like some people to help me with it. It would also be FABULOUS if people could, oh, I dunno... comment? XD

~Silvie/Krissie

~O~O~O~

Monday, August 22nd, 2011: 7:30 AM

“You’re a bitch.”

“Yeah, so? You’re an asshole who doesn’t know a rose from weed,” I snapped back, ignoring the curious looks on the passing students in the hall. We hadn’t exactly chosen a quiet spot for this particular spat, and, given that school hadn’t started yet, there were more and more people walking past us to get to homeroom on time. I wasn’t too concerned about homeroom: the teacher loved me, and really didn’t care whether or not I was late coming to class.

“So, you admit you’re a bitch.” David’s brown eyes narrowed at me, his normally kind face taught with rage. He towered over me, but I was quite used to it by now.

I shrugged, a slight smirk on my face. “Yeah. I know I can be a handful—”

“Understatement of the year.”

“—But at least I have the guts to admit it, whereas you don’t even have the balls, let alone the guts, to admit that you’re a big d-bag who can’t stand the fact that his girlfriend showed him up at football earlier this morning.” I folded my arms across my chest, daring him to deny the truth.

David glared at me, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “You fucking cheated!” he snarled.

“You sound like a truck driver’s two-year-old,” I scoffed, giggling at my analogy.

“This isn’t funny, Silvie!” he growled.

This football game that David was so pissed about was something us and our friends planned. We tended to do things in the early hours of the morning, mainly because our parents were too annoyed with our other antics to care about what we did at three or four in the morning. We had started planning this game about a month back, when we knew that my parents were going to be out of town for the week. The reason it was going to be at my house was, well, I had the biggest backyard: about an acre and a half. It was the perfect place to play an early—and vicious—game of tag-team football. My team won the game, and I had scored the winning point. David was convinced I had cheated, which I had, but he had no reason to get into such a snit over it. It was just a game, for crying out loud!

“Au contraire, mon petit ami,” I replied in a faux-French accent. “C’est très amusant. You just need to lighten up a bit.”

David let out a heavy breath, making him sound quite like a raging bull. “Don’t tell me to lighten up, Silvana. I’m this close to breaking up with you.”

I laughed, but it wasn’t filled with amusement. “Oh, well, I’m closer. We’re done, David. D-O-N-E. Done.”

He gaped at me. “What? Y-you can’t break up with me! Not when I just said I’m going to break up with you!”

“So, it’s mutual.” I smiled sweetly at him. “I no longer want to be your girlfriend, and you no longer want to be my boyfriend. Perfect! I don’t have to deal with immature freshman boys anymore! Yippee!” I clapped my hands together like a three-year-old.

“You’re the immature freshman,” he retorted, sounding like a fifth grader. “You can’t handle commitment!”

“Says the one whose longest relationship, before this one, lasted about three days,” I spat back, growing ever more angry with the way David was acting.