Thorns

9 - Whitney

Whitney

Shit. Fidgety shit. Big shit!

I mean c'mon! Why? Whyyyyyyyyyyyy?

Seriously, couldn't I pass out, say, in my own room? No. No way, José - no pun intended. You have to pass out in front of Rai freaking Vega!

Now everyone would know poor Miss Gordon had Type I diabetes. Poor thing... Maybe that's why she was adopted, 'cause no one would want a bag of trouble like her.

"It's not the end of the world, Whit." Daddy said as he made me eat my midnight snack "What if people know? Who cares?"

"I care, Daddy," I said, chewing on some more chocolate chip cookies and soy milk "Look, maybe it's stupid, but I don't want people to look at me and see a big D on my forehead!"

"They don't see that, Whit." Greg smiled, we were both sharing the cookies - doctor's orders, isn't it cool? "They see a beautiful, smart, nice girl..."

"With diabetes." I finished, and he gave me a sour look "Face it: that's what they'll see. I'm not going to school tomorrow. I want to be homeschooled from now on."

"Always the dramatic one." He sighed "I think I'm your biological father and we just don't know it."

It was my turn to give him a sour look. He lifted his hands from the island in the kitchen.

"Fine. I'll shut up. You're right: your life is over. Better just shoot yourself in the head."

"Gee. What a nice advise." I snorted, and he smiled "Daddy... I'm scared."

He sighed and walked around the island. His long arms gave me a tight hug, and I felt safe. I love my dad. I love them all, but I don't want to be the poor little-adopted diabetic.

***

Ok. Just breathe. Nothing to be scared of. The no is a sure answer. Or the 'Fuck off'. So just go. Yeah... go, now.

"Need to talk to you."

He looked at me, frowning. Folding his built arms over his leather jacket, he waited.

"So. I guess you know why I'm here" I said, trying to look cool about the whole situation.

"Yeah. I guess so" Rai said, nodding carefully "I knew this moment would come."

Right. And he already blabbered about my secret to everyone, for sure.

"I'm not gonna even ask you, we both know what I want."

"Really? Wow... didn't expect that" He admitted, a stunned look on his face.

"Yeah, I bet. Look, let's just cut the crap here. I hate when people drag the subject."

"So, do I." He guaranteed, unfolding his arms and coming closer "So. You're just gonna... take it. Not gonna ask. Didn't think you had the balls."

"Huh?"

"Make out."

"Excuse me?!"

People started to stare. Me, Whitney Gordon, was talking to gang chief almighty Rai Vega. Something was up. Even I smelled the shit a mile away.

"Make... out?" I dropped my voice to a whisper, and he leaned forward.

"Wasn't that what you wanted? Not even asking me... Just do it...?" He was saying, shooting one of his eyebrows up to his forehead "No?"

"You're completely irrational." I said, frowning so much my head hurt" That's totally not what I came here for. What the hell have you been smoking?! No. Forget it." I said when he opened his mouth to answer "Don't want to know. I came here because of what happened yesterday."

"Ah." He said, looking honestly astonished "Ok. What about yesterday?"

"About my... condition," I say, looking around us to make sure no one could hear our conversation.

"You faintin'? What do I care 'bout that?" He asked, frowning.

"Not that" I grumbled, rolling my eyes "About the other condition. Does 'Type I' ring any bells?" I grunted when he made a dumb look.

"Oh! The diab-"

"Shut up!" I hissed, immediately pressing my hands to him, one over his mouth, and the other holding his head "Shush! Yes, that condition. You told anyone yet?"

He said no through my hand.

"I don't believe you," I said, my eyes squinting.

"Is tue."

I must've looked completely dumbfounded, 'cause when I let him go, he laughed bitterly.

"Yeah. Look, Copper Girl, I may be a nasty bastard, but I'm no Gossip Girl. Wrong show, chica."

He slammed his locker door and walked down the hall like a tornado.

Wait. Wait a second. He didn't blab about my Diabetes? Why didn't he tell everyone? That guy hates my guts since we were in middle school. Same here, I hated that Mexicano punk with an attitude.

Still, I practically ran down the hall after him. We were in the same English class, but his seat was way in the back – hardly a good place to have a conversation. I could ditch class and take him hostage, but Mrs. Walker was already going in and looked at me with an upset look. I know, I'm late...

While the class was going on, I decided I might as well just take the plunge. Secretly grabbing my phone, I went on to social media and messaged him.

"Y ddnt u spill d beans?"

I waited, looking into the back through my front camera. Rai took his phone off his pocket and frowned. He read my message, looked straight at me with a sour look, and his thumbs started typing fast.

"Chica, like I said, I'm no stupid chick to spread rumors. Just drop it already. U can do whtvr u wnt like I give a fuck."

"Still. U dnt like m very much, so it would b d natural thing to do, spread my bad side to evr1. I'm surprised u ddnt."

"U want to hide ur shit, fine by m. Dn't rlly care. Not my biz, mamacita. But I tell u smthn: having a disease isnt a bad side of some1. I'm willing to bet ur 'bad side' is d real Whitney Gordon ur hiding. But, like I said, not my biz."

Okaaaaaaaay. Not the answer I expected. What the hell?! Couldn't he just say Screw you, bitch! Get a life!', and be done with this?

"I'm just w8ing for the moment u'll ask smthng to keep ur mouth shut."

I looked at him in my front camera again. Had to see his face. He read my answer with a focused look on his tanned face. Then, made the slowest - crap... - sexiest smile I ever saw. And it chilled me when he looked at me straight in the eye.

"Mi amor, if u want m to ask u for smthn to keep m quiet, there's only 1 thing I want. And u know what it is."

"Yeah. Not happening, buddy. U r not my type. Forget it"

"True. Not rich, not white, I'd b damn if I was blonde, and I'm never gonna b kissin ur ass arnd all day. So that's d deal: 1 kiss. No need to make out - only if u want to."

"Or what? U gonna tell? U said u wldnt, so u cant go back on ur word now."

"Wht stops m?"

"Ur honor!"

"Wht d fuck du know about honor, Copper Grl? D'u honorably screw arnd d jocks?"

"F U!"

"No, thnks. Dnt really lke sloppy 2nds."

That animal! I was gonna kill him. I was going to murder a Mexican gangster!