The book with way too many clichés ✔

a girls gotta protect herself from threats like 'Shayde'

As i tried to leave the room, Nial stopped me grabbing me by the arm.

"Arent you going to help this chick?" He asked inquisitively as he pointed at the god-friend beam of light entry girl who was still on the ground struggling to get up because she was SO FRIGGIN stupid.

Nials angry stare deepened and when i realised he wasnt going to stop i sighed and rolled my eyes.

"Fine" i said, pushing past him and going over to stand in front of the girl. She saw my shoes and then lifted her head up to look at me and my eyes widened as I instantly recognised who it was !

It was the punk rock girl from the classroom of 12 year olds and mr wrinklyass. I shrinked back in fear and gasped loudly. Making a big show of it.

God was friends with a punk rock chick?!?! The word was turned upside down and to say that i was traumatized was an understatement.

I looked around the room quickly, waiting for people to dog pile her and possibly drag her to the back of the house and dispose of her but nothing happened.

I gasped again, extra loudly. This time pointing at her.

"You are that PUNK ROCK chick i saw today in class!" I said then looked around me at the room full off people who had literally just had a faceoff with the same kind as this girl, those cold monkeys or whatever.

Everyone seemed rather bored to the fact that there was still a punk rock monstrosity in here and that we grately outnumbered her. No, they just continued doing whatever you do at parties which was eating at least 8 marawanas and alcahol and talking to girls/boys.

I returned my attention back to the girl who got up off of the floor as I was just about done trying to get her crash tackled and scruffed the dust off of her clothes.

I rolled my eyes and tapped my fingers on something, to bring out my extra bitchyness.

"Whats ur name?" I asked her

"Shayde Cece"

I shuddered. Just what i had expected. The most clichést name you could think of when it came to punk rock chicks.

"Ugh. How do you even say that?"

Was it 'shaedy' or was a 'shay-dee' or was it some weird indi name thing and it was actually pronounced sarah? Many unanswered questions clouded my mind.

"You could just call me Shay" she said rather sweetly. Which surprised me because she was punk rock and punk rockers are evil and believe in satan.

"Dont tell me what to do" i said to her and she looked taken a back. She looked down at the floor and started sniffling.

Omg was she crying?

This girl never ceased to amaze me. She was nothing like a normal cliché punk rocker.

I squinted my eyes at her suspiciously. She was obviously trying to lure me into a false sense of security before she beat me sensless and tattooed my unconscious body.

I lead her out of the room. Making the, 'im watching you' hand movement at her as i walked past her and to my room. She was obviously going to have to sleep on the floor.

But that was okay because she was probably used to sleeping on floors, due to being homeless or something in the past.

"Here" i said nicely placing a mat and pillow on the floor.

I stood back up as she got herself onto the floor. I whipped around and started making my way over to my bed, when i remembered her plan of homicide directed at me.

I got into bed with lighting speed and sat there and squinted my eyes at her until i was sure she fell asleep.

I then leaned over to the drawer next to my bed and took a pistol out and put it under my pillow.

Better safe than sorry.