Torn » h.s./marcel

Chapter 4: We're All Theirs

Chapter 4: We're All Theirs

Allie's POV

I slipped my torn gym shirt over my head. I had cut it so that there were huge loopy armholes for my arms to stick through and my black sports bra was exposed. I couldn't do anything with my black gym shorts because the coach had warned me if I cut them any shorter I would be classified as a slut. And I was no slut.

Ah, gym. One of my favorite classes. Now, most of you must be thinking: "Allie, the popular girl, likes gym?! No way!" Well, believe it, people. This was the one class when the entire student body could abuse Marcel and not get in trouble. It was beautiful, really.

I brushed my hair and applied deodorant in the girls' bathroom. There was a rumor flying around that the popular girls enjoyed changing in front of other girls. That was a complete and total lie. I was not in the mood to be in a room full of crazed teenage girls with Miley Cyrus blasting out of someone's broken phone and asses being wiggled. No. Just no.

I left the bathroom with a flip of my hair over my shoulders. Half the football team was waiting for me at my command. "Guess what day it is?" Adam said eagerly.

"Hump Day!" the other four boys shouted and high-fived each other, laughing.

I scowled at their immaturity. "No," I snapped. "It's field day, remember? We as a class get to choose the activity. And you know what the activity is going to be, don't you?"

They all stared at me expectantly, already knowing the answer, just wanting me to say it. I smirked.

"Dodgeball!" I declared, and the boys whooped and high-fived each other again.

I searched around the gymnasium until my eyes landed on Marcel. He was trying to hide in the bleachers and failing miserably. You could see him clearly. Unfortunately, I had to speak with him.

"Do you want us to get him now?" Adam asked me, following my gaze. I genuinely smiled. I loved how Adam never got jealous of me staring at Marcel. He knew my true feelings for that dweeb. Another bonus was that he always asked my permission to do things. I was just that powerful.

"No," I said. "Wait a moment. I have to talk to him."

Adam gave me a look like I was bogus. "Why do you have to talk to him?" he demanded.

"None of your beeswax," I retorted, and he backed off. I straightened and smoothed my shirt. I stalked over to the bleachers.

Marcel jumped when he saw me and frantically began patting at his hair and adjusting his glasses. What was he primping up for? Not like I wasn't a good enough reason.

"Marcel," I said coolly. "We need to talk."

He visibly swallowed and nodded shakily. "U-um, what about?" he asked.

"The project," I grumbled. His eyebrows raised and he looked at me expectantly. "I've been thinking and...." I sighed. "I think we should do this project together," I mumbled.

Marcel blinked and stared at me. "What?" he said. "You want to work... with ME?"

"Ssh!" I shushed him sharply. "Don't say it out loud! Obviously without my help you're going to mess this whole thing up."

Marcel looked confused but he nodded his head slightly. Pathetic weakling. "So, what do you want us to do?" he asked, then winced like he expected me to yell at him.

I tried not to cringe at the thought of Marcel and I working together. This was going to go terribly. Unless....

I almost smirked evilly, but I managed to hide it just in time. I didn't really HAVE to do all the work. All I had to do was tell Marcel if the song sucked or not, then I had it made. During the rest of the time I could do whatever I liked to Marcel, and of course he wouldn't do a thing about it. Once again, pure beauty.