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PREVIEW FOR CHAPTER FOURTEEN;; I'M WORKING ON IT BUT THIS PART WAS FUN AND I HAD TO SHARE! ENJOY ALL MY LITTLE LOVELIES.
A loud yet suddle hush rang through the crowd.
I held up my bright orange paddle, labelled number '2'. I prayed no one would match bid and looked around nervously. God forbid...
Oh, lord.
There, a messy head of chestnutty brown hair shot straight up as a toned arm followed. A bright green paddle labelled '8' flew into the air a few rows away from me.
A voice rang from stage. "105 dollars for this...clay...paper-weight!", the bald man up on stage scratched his shiny head and rubbed at his glasses. He blinked a few more times when he continued. "Do I hear 115?"
"ME.", I screamed desperately from the side of the room, as I flung my paddle in the air. Everyone turned around and glared at my apparent 'rudeness.' This was a silent auction afterall.
A few people hushed me and made motions with their fingers as others simply just glared.
I avoided eye-contact and kept my arm in the air.
The man didn't look surprised and I swear I saw a mini eye-roll.
I'm guessing I hear a 125 as well...Again, for this...um paper-weight-"
The man was interupted as a loud bang rang through the large auditorium. Someone had slammed their hand on their metal seat and kept their paddle raised high in the air.
Well, there it was again. That dumb mop of beautiful brown hair. If only I could get a look at the fool who thought he could beat me in this.
I wanted that paperweight. It meant so much more to me then just a piece of clay. And there was absolutely no way I would let it go.
Yet, there it was...Number 8 again. A few rows down.
A few more rounds of this went about as I furiously kept raising my paddle until the price for the oddly shaped mess of clay 'paper-weight' rose to 155. I made louder noises each time, and the mysterious bidder kept matching my noises with his own obnoxious ones.
By now, most in the audience were asleep or very, very annoyed. The host stood on stage, hand resting on his chin, calling out number after number, obviously hoping someone would give up already.
No way I was backing down.
"Orange paddle, I'm guessing you want 165?", mr.baldie yawned on stage, not making any attempt to hide his distaste.
I nodded vigorously and clapped.
There was silence. Had I finally won?
I smiled brightly and stood up to collect my prize, only to be silenced of the banging of that obnoxious boy a few rows down, again. His audaciously colored green paddle flailed around in the air as he cleared his throat loudly.
And that's when it happened. Something inside me snapped and I went all phsyco bitch on him. Not a him, but a who.
"That's It, YOU GODDAMN SON OF A BITCH. THIS IS MINE. HOP OFF AND GO HOME. IT'S MINE. YOU HEAR? I'VE GOT OVER 500 DOLLARS FOR THIS AUCTION AND THERE'S NO WAY IN HELL I'M BACKING DOWN. SO GET OUT-"
And as soon as the other 'voice' spoke, my blood boiled. I should have known.
He rose out of his seat and faced me. A piercing pair of green eyes stared at me from a few rows down. I narrowed my eyes, but he spoke first.
YOU ARE READING
A Broken Smile
Novela JuvenilTessa's life is a mess. She's at an all-guys boarding school and is pretending to be a guy. Enter Chase and his friends. Her cover's almost been blown, she finds her long-lost childhoold best friend, she's rooming with the world's biggest player, an...
