Queen Bitch

C H A P T E R 2

I look over at Blake and smile when I see how adorably cute he is. His jaw was dropped down to his ankles and his eyes were basically popping out of their sockets as he gazed clueless at the huge field. 

"Well, if the field is so big, then if the coach asked you to try out for the team you must be pretty damn good," I smirked. 

"Wow!" Blake tended to go a little stupid when he was in awe. 

As my eyes wondered over the pitch, I found the coach and, yum eye candy. Who knew high school kids had such muscle? 

My eyes flicked over to a squad of girls. The majority of them were blond, but  there was a scatter of brunettes and dark horses scatted here and there. My hair was light brown, but I reckon I could probably fit in with the rest of the blondies. 

"Maybe, you can join the football team and I can join the cheer squad?" I ask Blake. 

My question shakes him out of his trance and into laughter, the kind that has you clutching your stomach to keep you from doubling over. After finishing his mockery, he looks at me with a raised eyebrow. 

"Surely you can't be serious? Cheerleaders are bitches, everyone knows that!" 

"Football players are jerks." I retort. "Why do you have to stick with stereotypes?" 

"You can't jump for your life!" Blake frowns, and walks away from me, fuming. 

"Incorrect!" I inwardly fumed I can do the splits, do handstands, somersaults... 

I guess it is ok for Blake to say that because he didn't know. Blake and I weren't the happy go lucky kind of BFFs, meaning we didn't know everything about each other, so him not knowing my gymnastics skills wasn't that hurtful, but him saying I couldn't jump for my life was... rude to say the least. 

I hate when people walk away from me, but this is Blake, my only friend, Blake. 

I slowly approach him. 

"I-I'm sorry." I muster. I hate apologising when I don't think I'm wrong. Absolutely hate it. 

He takes a deep breath. "Yeah no its fine." But I could tell he wanted me to extend my apology. 

Trying not to roll my eyes at his annoying behaviour, I look at him dead set in the eyes and say, "I was pretty stupid for saying I wanted to be a cheerleader, when I 'can't jump for my life'." One of Blake's worst qualities was how he was very oblivious to sarcasm, so when he heard my second attempt at an apology, he cocooned me into a hug and told me that we were best friends forever, nothing to worry about. 

I guess it was kinda cute that Blake was innocent, him being oblivious to sarcasm and all. 

Suddenly, Blake let's go of me really quickly, and steps back. 

"What? Is something on my face?" I ask stupidly. 

He shakes his head slightly. I can see that his eyes are trained tight on something in the distance.

I slowly turn to look at a tall, slim, brunette girl sashaying towards the squad of cheerleaders. 

"Are you ok?" I ask him. He looks... in awe. Like, in even more awe than he was by how big the field was. And that made my stomach turn, my core tighten, my fists clench. Was I jealous? Was it because I didn't want to lose him to the infatuations of love or because I wanted him to be lost in the infatuations of me? 

"She-she-she's beautiful!" He stutters breathlessly. "Like no girl I've ever seen before." 

"Um." I reply awkwardly. "Ok."

He looks at me. 

"You've got to talk to her for me. Like put in a good word, or something?" 

Who does he think he is, telling me that I can't be a cheerleader but that I can associate with one? Anyway, I have no intention of listening to him anyway- if he wants a good word to be put in then he can go do it himself. But I didn't want him to get mad at me, so I said:

"Sure."

()()()()()

As soon as Blake had started his training, or whatever, I walked down to the brunette, and awkwardly tried to start up a conversation with her. 

"So,um... You look... great today?" It came out as a question, to which she replied with the raising of her eyebrows. 

"I... like what... you've done with y-your hair? Very in s-style?" More questions. 

The that followed silence resounded for about 5 minutes, but felt like hours, before she broke the silence. "Who was that cute guy that was hanging out with you, like, before?" She said it in an excusing way, but as if she genuinely didn't understand why he would hang out with me. 

"What do you mean?" I asked. I tried looking surprised. 

"The guy. You were hanging out with. Like. Before." She drawled out patronisingly. 

"Which guy?" I knew that I would have to give up the act soon. 

"You were with only one guy. What's his name?"

"B-blake. Blake Ferdicro." I mumbled. 

"What?" 

"His name, its' Blake." 

"So, why was he hanging out with you, again?" 

"Um."

"He's your brother, right?" Even though we look nothing alike. "He probably already knows who I am." Not really. "Well, I'll write my name down anyway, with my number of course!" Slow down, what are you doing? 

She pulled out red lipstick, applied it onto her lips and then kissed the paper. 

"Here you go!" 

She leers down at me, before placing the piece of paper in my hand, and then patting my head patronisingly. 

After she handed me the piece of paper, I should have walked away. I should have given the piece of paper to Blake, no matter what my conscience was telling me, and lived life normally. Well as normally as I could anyway. 

But I didn't. I can't bare it when someone treats me like I'm five years old. Bitch, please. 

I look down at the piece of paper. 

Rene 💋

Call me, Blake, at 04 587 376 908. I'll make it worth it. 

"Reneeee, is it?" I purposefully pronounce the ee wrong. "I think there has been some misunderstanding. Blake  is NOT my brother, we're not related?" 

Rene looked at me, offended I had pronounced her name wrong. 

"It's Rene. And what's it to me if he is not your brother. Why would I care?" 

My nose flared. I know I shouldn't say this, but... 

"He's my boyfriend, bitch!" 

I crumple the piece of paper in my hand, and as I turn to leave, I toss it above my shoulder, hitting Rene in the face. 

Shit, what did I just do!