You Scrub

Chapter Nine

"So" I say, sipping some of my strawberry milkshake. "Why do they call you 'Flame'?"

Flame looks up to me, as if not expecting the question. He recovers from the sudden surprise, putting a hand to his neck.

"Well, I'm not sure it's the best story-"

I pull a baby face, and say "please?"

He chuckles, sucking on his straw, which leads to an orange flavored smoothie (EW). I know, but everyone has different taste.

"Alright, who can refuse a request made from that face?"

Smiling, I take a short sip from my smoothie.

"No one" I say, giving a confident look.

Flame leans back in the booth we sit in, as if getting comfortable for a long story.

"One day I was eating alone at lunch, and these kids came up to me, and started picking on me. They called me stupid, fat, and a gay who is 'gonna burn in hell'."

He chuckles, as if the memory was something to be laughed at, when it seemed like something he should be upset at.

"I ignored them, well for a while, until they got physical. They got some kicks and punches in, while a crowd formed around us. Then this one kid pulled on my necklace" he pulls it out from his shirt, "and broke it."

I admire the pretty red and orange hues that emit brightly, as the light hits them in a certain direction.

"My mom gave this to me before she...left for a few months, so it really upset me. I got so mad that I grabbed my plastic tray, and broke it on his head. The rest of the kids ran away, told the principal that I beat their friend up, and I got sent to Annex for the rest of the year. The worst part? I had to apologize to the kid, while he went punishment-less, and I was forced into a school of bad kids."

I nod, and say "well, that's all over now. Plus, you have a cool nickname, no one seems to remember my name around here."

Flame grabs my hand, a joking look on his face.

"What, now I'm no one?"

Laughing, I say "of course not!"

He pulls his hand away, and I almost whimper from the loss of skin contact, feeling cold once again. But his touch didn't... spark, like Marshall Lee's did.

I shake my head, wiping Marshall's angering grin from my head. Maybe my hate is enough to cause an electrical spark.

Yeah, that makes sense.

"What's your Mother like" I question, the thought floating in my mind.

"She's beautiful" he states, looking at his hands. "There's something about her that instantly brings your spirits up. It might be her terrible sense of humor, but I love every second of it. Dad used to say I look just like her, until he began to ignore me."

Giving a pained look, Flame closes his eyes.

"I can't even look in a mirror without seeing her face."

We sit in silence for a few seconds, until I place my hand atop his, just as he did a few seconds ago. I want to ask why he hates seeing her face, but I refrain from prying.

"That's great" I say, hoping the words coming from my mouth would be right. "That means she's here, with you in your heart and soul. She's protecting you, every day you live, and maybe beyond that. She loves you, you have to love her before she's gone" I say, giving a squeeze to his hand.

Smiling, Flame opens his mouth, ready to say something kind, I'm sure of it. But as always, we are interrupted.

"How romantic" Marshall chuckles, sliding into Flame's side of the booth, and pushing him over. Our hands loose hold, and separate again.

Marshall, in his tight red and black striped shirt, with a black jacket over it, has a smug grin on his face. I ignore his red jeans, which are swallowed by black combat boots, that make loud noises as they take every step.

"If only you treated me with such love" he says, staring me dead on. "Then maybe I'd give you good night" he chuckles, laughing at his own joke, which wasn't funny.

Flame excuses himself to the bathroom, and I watch him go, glancing back to Marshall Lee.

I roll my eyes, but remember words similar to Marshall's.

"Hey" I say, glaring at Marshall. "Can you please speak to your friends, I don't appreciate what they have to say to me."

Marshall raises an eyebrow, confused with my words.

"One of your friends threatened me with a..." I trail my words off, a blush raising in my cheeks.

"A what" Marshall asks, leaning closer to me.

"It's not important" I say, shooing him away.

"It kind of is" he states, leaning closer, until his ear is near my face.

Sighing with embarrassment, I cup my mouth, leaning to his ear.

"A blow job."

Marshall pulls away, a blank stare on his face, as he remains silent for a few seconds. I only watch him, wondering how he will react to this devastating news.

"HAHAHAHA!"

He breaks into a laugh, mixed with a loud cackle, his eyes tearing up. Putting his hands to his stomach, he laughs for at least 20 seconds, and I begin to hope he chokes on his saliva.

"That's just what I needed to hear" he says, wiping away imaginary tears. "Oh, my day is way better with that news. In fact" he pauses, giving me a look.

"Why are we so close" he questions, giving me a hard stare. "You're supposed to be my prey, not my friend."

Grabbing my milkshake, he throws it onto my face, the cold substance making me gasp.

It begins to drip onto my shirt, and I grab a napkin, hoping the substance won't stain too badly.

A cold finger wipes away some of the shake from my cheek, and I glance up to Marshall, who licks it off his finger.

"Hmm" he smirks. "I like cherry better, red is my thing."

Then he walks off, his combat boots slamming into the tiled floor.