Sitting through Media class is like watching Wolf Creek all over again. Seeing Mr. Gold’s face is like staring into the eyes of the devil himself. I can barely stand the sight of him anymore. Halfway through the class, the thought of storming off to the principal’s office and telling him everything that has been going on, rams my head like a chainsaw. Instead, I hold my pen tighter as I work my way through some theory.
Sarah giggles at the back of the class like a maniac as she curls her black and flirts with David.
Whore.
I’m not surprised she’s not satisfied after screwing Mr. Gold on his desk. It’s disgusting and I don’t know what’s worse: sleeping with Mr. Gold, or still pretending to be a goody-two-shoes Christ loving girl. Victoria should honestly grab her by the ears and teach her some decency. Maybe I should send a letter to the pope and have her excommunicated from the Catholic Church. Is she catholic? I have to ask Victoria about that. When the lesson ends, I hurry out of class to math. Mr. Kennedy once again barks out orders about completing our work and how important year twelve is. He says something along the lines of, “Fail year twelve and you fail life.”
Bullshit.
It’s just like when my sperm donor told me looking like mum had guaranteed me a free ticket to the gates of ugly. I shake my head. I can’t think about him. I shouldn’t be thinking about him.
By the time recess comes along, my stomach churns to the point of nausea and I don’t know why. I just want to head home and sleep. I hurriedly dump my things inside my locker and slam it shut breathing hard. I shouldn’t be here. I should be home.
I run my hand through my hair. I haven’t been this worried; not since that night. I shake my head. No. No. I can’t think about it. I make my way to the canteen and grab a plate of stir-fry and rice, whilst keeping an eye out for Victoria. I arrived at school around nine thirty so I missed her. I haven’t seen her since yesterday and she promised me she’d be at school.
“Black women never break their promises.” That’s what she said. After twenty minutes of searching for Victoria, I realize she’s ditched me once again.
Bitch.
I pick an empty table and sit down. I hardly taste my food as I scroll through Facebook. It turns out the size of Georgia’s tits is the number one trending discussion on Facebook. At times I wish people would talk of politics and economic pro-
“Hey Amanda!” I instantly tense up and bite back a scowl when I hear the voice behind me. “How are you today?” Blood rushes to my head as Alyssa takes a seat beside me on the bench and takes a chip out of the yellow chip packet.
“Fine.” I reply gruffly before returning back to my phone. I think of texting Victoria, but decide against it. She’ll probably be in contemplation, talking to God or something. She talks to him all the time. It’s strange, but who am I to judge? I am her friend after all, and I am religion-less.
“So, do you have any plans after school?” I turn to Alyssa and raise an eyebrow. Since when did she start talking to me? She’s been cowering away from me for the past three weeks and glaring daggers at me from the corner. I hate to admit it, but I’m impressed –in a strange way.
“Yes.”
“What do you have to do?” She asks as she places another chip in her mouth.
“Murder someone.”
Her eyes widen into the size of soccer balls. “Really?” I don’t reply. Something else has caught my attention. She has a small scar on her chin and a cut on her eyebrow. Why hadn’t I noticed that before? The way she eats also grabs my eye. As she chews, she rolls her tongue around on the inside of her mouth and grunts softly. Her fingers dig deep inside the chips packet as she hunts for more food, and there’s a way her eyes shine as she takes out an entire bunch of chips.
I’ve seen that behavior before. It’s hard to forget who ate like that.
“Yes. I’m murdering someone.” I reply quickly, before Alyssa realizes I’ve been gawking at her.
She leans in closer and smiles deviously, “Tell me all about it.” Since when did she become so bold?
I lean in closer, our faces almost touching. I hold back a cringe as the smell of chicken salt overwhelms my nose. “If I tell you, I’d have to kill you.”
Alyssa replies, “Why would you have to kill me?”
“It’s simple. Dead girls can’t talk.” I take my things and walk away.
YOU ARE READING
Confessions of a Bitch
Macera"Bad girls have more fun." At least, that's what Amanda thought. Being the most feared and hated student in Belfast High, definitely had its perks and invincibility was one of them. However, when paired with the not-so-charming David Walker, the...
