Stereotypes

eleven.

I know, I know, don't even tell me, I'm a bad human being for making you guys wait so long. But I swear I will now be updating every weekend. But on the other hand... OH MY GOD 540 VOTES WHAT IS THIS LIFEEE
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Elle's POV
As the school bell rings, I shake my cherry red hair (thanks to cheap hair dye) out of it's ponytail, gathering up my books.

Sean said he'd find me after school, but I haven't heard anything from him since our encounter before English Lit., so I don't exactly know how it's going to go down.

I make my way to my locker, going against the grain. After about a month of school had passed, I'd stopped trying to slither past everyone going to the bus. Instead I just walked ahead, not really caring weather or not they bumped into me. After about a week of this, people just avoided me in the after school hall as to not get a bruise on their shoulder and possibly one on their face. I may be a girl, but I can damn well throw a punch if you bump into me.

Glancing at my locker for a nanosecond before opening it, I realized that the words were washed off, probably courtesy of the janitor, Herb, who cleans while everyone is in class. I'll have to thank him later.

Ten minutes later I'm bouncing along the sidewalk with the Arctic Monkeys blasting in my ears.

(Do I wanna know?)
If this feeling flows both ways,
(Sad to see you go)
Was sorta hoping that you'd stay
(Baby we both know)
That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tommorow day

Now I'm crawling back to you
Ever thought of calling
When you've had a few?

I usually listen to music on the walks to and from school. It helps clear my mind a bit.

Once again I heard honking.
This time though, one earbuds was out, so I actually heard it.

Whipping my head around, I glared at the car with tinted windows, knowing it was Sean and the car had once harassed me in the morning.

The passenger door opened, and my feet moved on their own accord.

As my black lace up combat boots trudged across the street, I momentarily considered what would happen if Sean wasn't the one in the car.

I glanced through the open car door making sure it was him. It was.

My boots squeaked as I stepped inside the car, the rips in my cheap jeans letting my skin touch the leather seat.
As soon as I was in the vehicle  he started fiddling, turning the heat up and the radio down. I fluffed out my hair around me, trying to enjoy the heater in the car. Then I remembered why I was here.

I looked at Sean. He looked hot. And I mean so damn sexy in his rather jacket I would jump his bones right here and now if I had the guts to. I shook my head to clear my thoughts.
"You have nine minutes. Go."

Sean hesitated before saying the words that he had probably never uttered to another human being before.

"I'm schizophrenic."

Well hot damn. I completely blanched.

"So?" I asked him.
He looked at me funnily, like you might look at someone when you ask them who George Washington is, like you'd forgotten something completely obvious. (Shut up. It only happened once.)

"What do you mean 'So?' ", he asked me. "I. Am. Schizophrenic. I could be dangerous. Why aren't you... Well.. I don't know."

I smirked at him. "If you don't know what I'm supposed to be doing, then how do you know I'm not already doing it?" I asked.

Now he's confused.
"What?" He said.
"What?" I mocked.

"Listen," I said. "Yeah, you're a complete asshole Sean. But I'm not, nor am I ever going to treat you differently because you have schizophrenia. The treatment options these days are numerous."

"Now, that being said," I started taking in a deep breath of air before saying what I was about to say what I was going to.

"What the motherfüçkīñg hell did you think you were telling Emma what you did you asswipe!?!?!? Oh my god I shouldn't even be in this car!" I started looking around for the handle, but I couldn't find it. "Where the fricking blue Australian lamp is the handle!?!?!" He started to say something but I cut him off. "No, you know what? It doesn't matter. Even if what I told you wasn't true, and it totally was, you had no right to tell her anyway and..." I stopped as I realized something. "The, the principal," I stuttered. "He's gonna call social services and there will be all this legal stuff and oh my fucking god, this is just gonna make everything worse for me..." I trailed off as I fully realized what had happened. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. Shit on a stick.

I turned to Sean, and surprisingly, his fists were clenched and his whole demeanor was like he wanted to punch something.

Then it hit me. I was yelling at him, swearing at him, calling him names. Of course he wanted to punch me.
On instinct, my eyes widened as I shrunk into the car door. Why couldn't I had found the damn handle?!?

Sean's POV
As soon as I heard Elle say it was only going to make things worse for her, the realization hit my body like a truck. She wasn't lying when she talked about her father. When he came up in conversation, pure fear came into her eyes. The idea that anyone could hurt my Elle... My sweet, fragile little Elle ...
Stop it, the rational part of me said. She's not yours. She's not anyone's. But then the darker part of me, the schizophrenic part.... I shuddered internally. I didn't want to think about that. When I was with Elle, the voices went away.

I clenched my fists. The fact that someone was even hurting another human being sucks, but for some reason the idea of someone hurting Elle ... It broke me, it made me want to beat up anyone whoever touched her ever again.

Elle... She had stopped talking. I finally looked at her, and she was curled against the car door, a look in her eyes I couldn't exactly identify. "Please don't hit me," she whispered.

Remember when I said the idea of someone hurting her broke me? That was a tiny crack in the glass compared to what this felt like. This was someone shooting a bullet so the entire glass cracked and fell.

I put my hands on both her cheeks and looked into her eyes. "Aribelle Carter, the only reason I told Emma is because she invited me over, and either I got drunk or she spiked my drink. Once I wasn't sober anymore, she started talking about you. And since I was completely shitfaced, I told her what you told me on Tuesday. Okay? If I was sober I would never tell anyone even if I didn't think it was true. The day when you told me I said that because I didn't want it to be true." And that's when I realized how close we were and how beautiful her eyes were.