INIQUITOUS

CHAPTER XXIX

INIQUITOUS
CHAPTER XXIX

I joined Winnie and her group, it consisted of Velvet; hair dyed electric blue, eyelids covered in shimmering baby pink eyeshadow, Rodger; who smelt of coffee, and wore a crumpled black t-shirt, and finally, Yuma with her face devoid of any colour, restless in a frayed-looking, navy-blue cardigan and too-large-for-her boot-cut jeans. There was something different about her. I gazed at her and her eyes met mine; a frantic, trapped animal stared at me for a solid ten seconds and then turned away. "What happened to your hair?" I blurted. She normally wore a long, waist-length plait, only now it was chopped, falling midway to her back and in a messy twist.

She muttered something angrily under her breath about her twin and pressed the tip of her pen to her page, jabbing it and forcing a hole in between her written sentences. "...your fault...my fault!? I didn't...dad said I couldn't...she stole my...attack the teacher...hit me for it...I hate her!"

Why did I bother asking?

"I wish I was in the Office so I could roll my eyes at the camera," Rodger said, shooting a side-eyed glance at Satan's little helper. "No offence to you, Yuma. Please don't curse my family. We're good people. We donate to goodwill."

"Mr. Rider's staring at you, Cleo," Winnie leaned across the table and whispered with a knowing upwards tilt of her mouth.

The four of us turned around to face him. He sat on the edge of his desk, ankles and arms crossed, intent gaze fixed on me. He raised an eyebrow at us, unabashed. "I take it you've finished since you have time to gossip?"

"No, sir," we chorused, shifting the right way round.

"That was awkward," Velvet brushed her fingers through her bangs, pulling a face. "Can someone kill me? Before you take that too seriously, just know I'm joking, Yuma. I don't want to be sacrificed to the demons of hell."

"I'll start arranging your funeral," Rodger grinned, flipping through a textbook. "How are you going to do it, Yuma? Quick slit of the throat? A hanging? Ooh. Maybe go for a poisoning. That'll be pretty cool, right?"

"Leave her alone," Winnie defended, "she's not that sort of person. You're more the type to trap a person and get your sister to do it for you, right? So, is it like, Supernatural? You kill a fox, nail it to a circle drawn in chalk and summon a demon of hell? Or am I wrong, is it totally the opposite?"

"That reminds me," Velvet interrupted, "I used to flick the bean to fanfictions about Sam and Dean in bed. Thirteen year old me was disgusting. The things I used to do to my childhood teddy – ick! I gross myself out thinking back to it." She shuddered.

"TMI, Velvet, keep it to yourself," I frowned, "and who the hell says 'flick the bean'? How old are you, thirty? You sound like one of those middle aged moms who write eroticá while the kids are at school, like your name should be Janet Snow or something alike." 

"It was before I accepted I liked the clit and I always will," she said and added, "and by the way, my online pseudonym was Jessica Rabbit, I was stuck in a loveless marriage to a man with a dong the size of a baby carrot. My stories were about handsome, six foot plumbers and pool boys. Boy, I really was desperate back in the day. Now I control myself a little better. My ultimate fantasy now would be a strict headmistresses who takes me over her knee and spanks me with a ruler. A red-head, square framed glasses, plump bottom lip, buttons open on her shirt, big breasted. And long legs in lacy stockings. I would die peacefully for one night with– what? Why are you guys looking at me like that?"

"Anyway," Winnie angled away from her, stretching out the word, and asked from me, "so how are you feeling? If I knew you were sick, I would've come over and nursed you back to health."