"Who are you?"
The question isn't probably directed to me. But the thing is, I'm probably the only person in this room who is wearing the most ridiculous outfit. So yeah.
I can't hide from him for the whole summer right? Right.
After my mental debate, I stopped on my tracks, slowly turned around, and saw the human being that I have been carefully avoiding for an entire day.
Breaking the all too thick tension in the cafeteria, he spoke, "What are you doing here?"
More like screamed for all the people to hear.
Wait, his accent is so thick. Is he Australian? I almost blurted out the question. Good thing I still had my dignity and my brain intact.
Regaining my composure, I say to him: "I could say the same."
"Are you following me? Cause that's just creepy and low." He seems disgusted. The people around us stopped eating and focused on us.
"Woah. Woah. Slow down with the accusations sleazebag. Do you really think I would stoop that low and follow you here? Ew. No. Nada." I scoffed and earned a couple of ooh's and ahh's from our growing audience.
"I'm calling the guards on you and have you arrested for trespassing and God knows what more." He reaches for his pocket and hold out his phone and I know I'm in deep shit. Not caring about anything anymore, I did whatever's on my head.
With my adrenaline on the go, I tried to snatch his phone away. Keyword: Tried. My height being 5 foot and 8 inches, he shrunk me down with his towering height.
I can still hear my mom's voice from here. Put on your lipstick and attack. Really? Like really? How can I ever make use of that learning in a situation like this?
I am currently slapping his chest, kicking his manhood, perhaps scratching his exposed skin, and jumping up and down like a lost puppy. All my efforts were futile. He smirked down at me with his annoying lips and tucked his phone back.
"I'm gonna fucking kill you."
is 5'8 and pales in comparison to his towering height, usually wears oversized sweaters/shirts when I'm alone, doesn't have intimidating voice, nor scary features.
Yeah, fucking fear me.
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"But Oh - fficer, I wasn't following him." I said in a saccharinely disgusting voice - for the 100th time.
"Darling, you look so suspicious." How am I suspicious? I'd just presume he hasn't had a good look at me.
"Officer Leer-"
"Darlin', it's Officer Choco for you." I rolled my eyes to the galaxy and back. His name is Choco. He refused me to call him other names except Choco. And he called me Darling every freaking time. Freakishly annoying. Could there be anything more disgusting? Yup, his uncleaned desk with heaps of sugar and bits of donut.
"Whatever. But Officer, you do not insult my fashion sense. My boots are made by Christian Dior himself, my rad glasses are from Gucci and this leather jacket is Armani." I pointed out obviously hoping he would somehow sympathize and possibly lessen his suspicions.
"Well, nobody cares about your awesome fashion sense, darlin'."
"My, my thank you officer. But my mom does and it's what matters."
This is just sickening.
Officer Choco, once again entered the room with a stack of papers, his head hanging low.
"I am terribly sorry Miss Brooke for the awful disturbance. We have detained you with insufficient proofs. You are clearly a part of this Camp, and I sincerely apologize. Oh, and Welcome to Robb's Tennis Camp!"
Well that was an extremely late welcome and a terrible one at that.
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YOU ARE READING
The Damned Tennis Racket
Teen Fiction"This summer, I will be sending you to your Uncle Rob's Tennis Camp in California." My mom said, her voice is stern, firm and unsympathetic. I made her repeat that sentence for like 6 times, until it sank in to the depths of my brain. And that's whe...
