Tomboy or Not, Here I Come !

Chapter 2

Hello! So this is the second chappie... and I didn't have my friend proof-read it... so sorry if there are any silly mistakes! Please comment :D that would make me really happy. Erm.. well... enjoy?

And umm I mention Vampire Academy here, but no rights belong to me. I just mention it because it's awesome, I love it, and I think my character can tolerate it ! :D So again, every right belongs to Richelle Mead -- at least, of that book. And the Blue Bloods author. And the Vamps author. I don't know them, and I haven't read the books - yet. I'm not dissing them. I don't even know the plot! So don't judge. 

~Izzie 

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Closing the door behind me, I looked over at Barbara. She was already sitting on my messy bed – why bother making your bed during summer? – looking over some of the pictures of my night table.

“So! What’s up? How was the fancy-schmancy family visit?” I asked. Her family from her mother’s side was pretty rich, and pretty arrogant, too.

“Ugh! Horrible. All my cousins are older, and my aunt was like Hitler himself. She couldn’t point out enough how fat I looked or how my hair looked like a hobo’s.” she said, and I could see in her eyes that it did hurt her, an awful lot.

“I’m sorry, honey. Well, next time bring me over. I’m sure I can land a few punches and kicks here and there to let them know not to mess with you.” I winked, and she laughed.

“Enough about my bitchy complaints. We haven’t talked much during these past 3 weeks, what’s up with you?” she asked, but I knew she was only trying to be polite. She knew that every summer, I spent it playing video games and dancing. Or just being a lazy-ass.

“Same old, same old.” I shrugged.

“How about reading? Did you do that already? You know that Ms. Sissy will give you hell if you don’t have your book reports ready.”

Ms. Sissy is our teacher – and no, that’s not a nickname we made for her. Her actual name was Morganne Sissy. Not a joke. She’s our 60-or-something year old English teacher, and she honors her last name very well. She’s bitchy and complains over minor mistakes. A stuck-up perfectionist. And she has the nerve to leave us homework every freakin’ summer.

I mentally shuddered over the reading I still had to do. Another thing I hated about her, but most girls actually liked about her, was the fact that she loves romance novels. So I – along with all the other boys in my grade – hated the fact that we had to read mushy-gushy love stuff. And with the whole new wave of vampire love, she’d been “updating” herself a bit and letting us read vampire bestsellers. Me, along with the boys, didn't see the point of reading about sparkly vampires -- nor did we see the romance about a girl being stalked. 

“Hell, no. Have you? Please tell me there’s something less unicorns-and-rainbows and more guns-and-zombies. Hell, I’ll settle for guns or just any kind of action –” Barbara laughed a bit, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, “and I don’t mean sex, so get your head out of the gutter.”

She put her hand over her chest, pretending to be hurt, “Why, I don’t have my head in the gutter!”