A Rough Girl and a Proxy

Chapter 3- What a Bitch

Winter's P.O.V.

I smelled like complete and utter shit, and I didn't look to pretty, either. School had been pretty shitty today. They made me run laps in gym, and god knows how hilarious it is to see a walking fish bone running in a pointless dirt circle.

The only good part of the day is when I coughed up some nasty smoker spit on some annoying old bitch who happened to be my math teacher. I told her it was a mistake. It was not. I totally coughed up on that old hag on purpose.

My eyes were rimmed with dark circles as I trudged on the sidewalk. My short hair was as short as always. The clothes I wore were torn and beaten from years of use. My jeans weren't ripped because it was "fashionable," they were ripped because mom and I spent most of the money on my pot and her whiskey and I couldn't get new ones.

Everyone at school either called me a boy or said I was a dirty, nasty looking lesbo. I'm not either of those things. Yeah I go both ways but I like some dick too. Just 'cause my hairs short doesn't mean I only want the bitches. I wish people would understand this.

I needed a smoke. Pulling a pack out of my pocket, I took a cigarette and lit it. Blowing out some smoke, I looked back at the liqueur store. That Toby kid was being hit on by some whore I recognized from school. She was a beautiful blonde, her hair in a braid. Her two green eyes staring at him flirtatiously. Her clear push up bra being shoved in his face. He looked uncomfortable. Maybe he was gay. Sighing pitifully, I walked 'cross the street and threw the door open.

"Bitch he don't want 'yer fake titties. Stop shovin' 'em down his throat." I snapped. They both stared at him. "Oh look. The lesbian." she laughed. "Whore I go both ways. Shut the fuck up." Both my middle fingers were directed towards her. "Honey, what's up with that hair of yours? You look like a rat." She pointed towards my dirty hair. "I've been called worse by better. Sweetie, get the fuck outta here 'fore I decide to kick your pretty little fake ass." I grabbed her by her arm and shoved her out the front door, watching her fall on the cold concrete.

Toby at the counter smiled. "Th-th-thanks." I smiled, nodding. "No problem. I get it. If I was a gay I'd hate bein' hit on by girls too." The cigarette I'd been smoking this entire time was at it's end. I pulled it out of my mouth and lit another one.

Awkwardly, he loomed at me. "Sorry, ma'm but I'm not gay. I'm straight." His voice was soft, quiet, and jittery. He had a stutter to him that was clear in his voice. His eye twitched a little and rested back. He was a freak of nature.

"Oh. Yer not? Cool." I honestly didn't care. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't think you look like a rat." Clearly he was trying to make me feel better. "It doesn't bother me. You mistook me for a boy at first. I don't care what you or anyone else thinks 'bout me." I spit on the floor, stuck my hands in my pockets, and walked out.

I'll admit, I don't know the guy very well, but he's kinda cute. Nothing is really be getting excited over. His eyes always looked tired, but at the same time, kind. He looked at me with kindness. That's rare. I get lots of different looks. Hateful, annoyed, disgusted, but never kind.

Whatever. It didn't matter anyway. I barely knew him. I wasn't running away from home or goin' all Romeo and Juliet over some asshole I'd only met a few weeks ago. Blowing out some smoke, I trudged inside my house and collapsed on our couch. As I stared at the ceiling, I thought about stuff. Like where the fuck was my weed?