Time To Dance [DISCONTINUED]

Fight and First Bite

I was excited to see Brendon the next morning. I wore a black exercise tank top, black yoga pants, and black flats with my black jacket. As I was going to walk into English, Raina blocked the door. Her pink sweater, dark aqua jeans, and pink heels actually fit her, and her red hair was tied into some weird braid/ponytail. Thea grabbed my collar and turned me to her so that she could uppercut me. When Cleo wasn't punching me in the face, Whitney kneed my head and Grace kicked me in the crotch. Raina punched me in the ovaries, and Whitney had disappeared to grab a baseball bat from PE and beat my face and stomach in with it. "HEY!!" Brendon shouted, running down the hall to save me. "What in the fuck do you think you're doing?" Cleo finally quit punching me in the face and she ran down the hall with the rest of the girls so that they wouldn't get beat by Brendon again. "Serves them right. You okay, Lins?" He asked me. "My face and stomach got beat in with a baseball bat. That answer your question?" I retorted, noticing the bat in the middle of the hall. "I love your sense of humor." Brendon retorted. "No, seriously. My face got beat in with a bat, I got punched in the ovaries, I got punched in the face repeatedly, and my head got kneed." I informed him. "So... You wanna come with me?" Brendon offered. "Sure. It's not like you won't pick me up and take me where you want me anyway." I tried to get up, but my legs gave out on me and I fell on my ass. "True." Brendon agreed with me, picked me up bridal style, and carried me into his classroom. "I'm on lunch break anyway..." My face spelled horror as soon as he uttered 'lunch.' No... Don't make me eat. Please. "Nobody's in there. Don't worry." Brendon tried to reassure me. "It's not that." "Then what is it?" "I don't have to eat, do I?" I asked him. "Maybe." Brendon answered. Doesn't help. "I'm taking that as a no." I answered. "We'll see." Brendon commented, setting my anxiety off. Not helping me, man. Brendon put me down on a beanbag chair and went to go dig in his desk. I looked around and saw a drawing of him on the wall. Hey... I gave that to him at a A Fever You Can't Sweat Out concert. I can't believe I was sneaking around even at 7 years old. And I spent forever on that, too. "What are you looking for?" For some reason, my brain thought he was grabbing a condom. "First Aid Kit." Brendon answered. And why did I think he was getting a fucking condom??!! Just, WHY??!! "So, who drew that?" I pointed to the drawing I found earlier. Brendon looked at it and then at me. "Was it you?" I nodded, surprised he remembered. "Aren't you hot in that jacket?" I shook my head. And why did I just lie to my idol?? He quirked his eyebrow at me and questioned, "What did those girls mean by 'show him your razor scars?' Crap. Come up with something, Lins. "Oh, it was some stupid rumor." I lied again. That's unfortunately true. "You sure?" Brendon asked. I hoped he couldn't tell that I was lying to his face. "Yeah." Crap. That totally sounded like you were lying, Lins. He walked over to me with the first aid kit, and I couldn't help but freak out. "What are you doing?" I questioned him. "Helping." He kneeled down to my level. I was still freaking out. "Calm down. Take a breather." Brendon opened the box, took out an antiseptic, and applied it to my face. "How are you going to explain it to your mom?" He inquired, putting a bandaid on my face. "Say another book fell on my face...?" I was unsure of my answer. "You think she'll believe it?" Brendon questioned. "She believed it yesterday. And I've been using the library lie for years, and she still believes it." My stomach growled. Shut up, stomach. I don't need to hear from you. "You hungry?" He was being nice. "No." I lied. My stomach growled louder. Why do you do this NOW, stomach??!! If you did this never, that'd be great. "Your stomach says you're lying." Brendon pointed out. "My stomach hasn't seen food in years." I actually did want to eat something. But I couldn't. "What the fuck? You need food." Brendon was about to shove his lunch down my throat. "But if I eat..." Ugh. Horrible flashback. "Then?" "I'll get fatter and my food'll get taken away!!" I blurted. I'm so going to smack myself in the face for saying that. "WHAT?!" Brendon shouted in disbelief. "You're going to say I'm skinnier than a pencil, aren't you?" I guessed. "No. Why would your food get taken away?" Brendon questioned me. "Cause I'm too fat, according to my parents. To this day, I still am. They haven't let me eat anything in years." I confessed. "Well, that's a problem." "No shit, Sherlock." "But you don't have to listen to those bullies. You're not fat." Brendon tried to reassure me. "I was 6 when I last ate anything. I grew up this way." I pointed out. Brendon looked up at me. "How are you even alive?" I shrugged. "Unfortunately, I'm stuck with these bullies until I either die or leave town, whichever comes first." And it looks like I'll be dying first. "You could just leave." "Tried that. I got caught and beat, because I'm apparently an attention whore." I answered. "Beat?" Brendon looked like he was about to kill somebody. "Whenever I break a rule. Like listening to anything but gospel music." I explained. "Gospel music?" "They're religious nuts. I only get out of church with the library lie." "But they beat you." "They're psychopaths." I explained. My stomach growled again. Fuck you, stomach. "You need food." Brendon commented. "Like I said, not hungry." My stomach growled again. "Yes, you are." My stomach growled even louder. "See?" Brendon remarked. "I'm not eating." I argued. "Don't make me force you." Brendon's lunch, which was about to be stuffed down my throat, was spaghetti. Goddamn it. Spaghetti was my favorite. "Not eating." "Yes you are." Brendon picked up the spaghetti. "No, I'm not! Brendon, no! I'm not going to eat!" I objected, slowly backing away from him. "Come on." Brendon begged. I refused to open my mouth. "Please." He begged. I shook my head. He swiftly moved and caught me without spilling the spaghetti. "Don't make me force you." Brendon repeated. "BRENDON!" I screamed. "Yes?" He questioned me. Oh, how dare you. "Please don't... I'm begging you..." I begged him. "Just one bite." "No. Don't make me eat it!!" I protested. "Why not?" Brendon wasn't giving up. "I already told you why. Besides, I don't wanna eat." I answered. "Yes, you do." "No I-" Brendon shoved the spaghetti into my mouth. "Chew." I reluctantly obeyed, Brendon's hand over my mouth so I couldn't spit it out. "Swallow." Brendon commanded. I reluctantly did so. "I had one bite. You happy now?" I was a bit ticked. "Yes. Thank you." "Don't make me do that ever again." I ordered. "We'll see..." Ugh. I hate it when people do that. "Now I have to go burn off any possible weight that I gained..." Brendon grabbed me and held me as close to him as he could. "Don't say that." He argued. "But it's true." I retorted. "No, it's not. Look at you. And come on, it's not good for you damnit." Brendon argued. I fell limp for a minute. "God fucking damnit Lindsey." Brendon said as I passed out.