Dangerous Game

2 - God, help me fight the urge to strangle this girl with a damn coat hanger.

Aurora
"Did you see that cute guy last period? I'm thinking about giving him my number." A red headed girl whispers to her blonde headed friend.

I scrunch up my nose at Poppy, and she
nods in agreement.

Like, seriously, why does this chick in front of us think anyone gives a crap about some guy in her class? If we're being honest, he probably wasn't that cute.

"Oh, do you know his name?" Her blonde
friend asks excitedly.

The red headed smiles at her, "I think his name was Adrian. Adrian Miller, maybe."

I almost snort, which earns me a glare from the freshman in front of me. Remember the two girls from earlier? I'm pretty sure they're freshman. Anyone else would know that if a girl gave him their number, then he'd crumble it up, and throw it in the trashcan as if it was a three pointer. Right in front of them. I know this for a fact because Emerson once gave him her number back in freshman year.

He had replied with a simple 'nah', and threw it in the trashcan on his way out. He's a fucking dick, I tell you. But, unfortunately, girls believe he's this perfect creature that doesn't have the ability to break their heart. Well, they happen
to be very wrong. Adrian will break their heart, and he wouldn't think twice about it, either.
It's sick if you ask me

"What is your problem?!" The blonde snaps. Oh, we have some rude freshman on our hands. I open my mouth to respond with a remark of my own, but Poppy beats me to it.

"Look, bitch, you're the one that has a problem if you believe you can talk to anyone like that.
I don't give a crap who you think you are. You don't speak to anyone like that unless you want to be on the floor."

Let's just say that the blonde girl looks pretty petrified. I can't say that I blame her, though.
I'd be scared of Poppy, too, if she wasn't my best friend. I remember one time when a girl was being a total bitch to her younger sister, Jules, and she told the girl off. I wouldn't be surprised if she peed her pants after Poppy was done. Obviously, she didn't threaten her because she was still a thirteen year old girl, but she definitely reminded her where she stood.

"You realize that you're being the one being
a bitch, don't you? Katie wasn't even doing anything. She simply asked your friend what her problem was. If you have a problem with that, then you need to grow the hell up. Like, for real, girl, I thought you had a vagina. Turns out that you just like to taste them." The red headed threw Poppy a smirk, and gestured
to the rainbow shirt that she was wearing.

I gasped. She. Did. Not. Fucking. Say. That. What the hell is this ginger bitch's problem? She obviously has a problem that she needs
to adress. You know, I honestly wouldn't blame Adrian if he rejects this girl.

God, help me fight the urge to strangle this
girl with a damn coat hanger.

"Are you asking me to slap you?" Poppy asked through gritted teeth, "because I'll do it without hesitation. I honestly thought that this country was past their issues with differences, but I was wrong. We still have people that believe discrimination is legal. I'm a girl that dates girls. So what? I am not afraid to admit it."

"Girls, it seems that we have a problem here. You four can argue about down at the office."
Mrs. Jameson replied, shooting a glare in our direction. Well, it's about time that the teacher became involved. I was waiting for her to remember that she had a job, and wasn't
hired to text her husband.

"Wait, what did I do?" Katie asked, fear evident in her eyes. I'm guessing that her parents were the type to give lectures when they received calls from the office.

All my parents do is bicker about the matter for a while before they agree to just hand over a few hundreds when my brother is caught smoking on school grounds. Okay, let me rephrase that. My mom says that they're
going to hand over a few hundreds, and
dad just goes along with it.

It's not like it'll hurt us any, anyway. If anything, it'll give mom an opportunity to flaunt the fact that she married a neurosurgeon to her friends from college, such as Emerson's mom, Lisa James.

Being a divorced woman in her late thirties is hard for my mom to comprehend. Both of my mom's parents married for the sake of money. And, coincidentally, my mom did the same. It's obvious that she didn't marry my dad out of love. Since she was a kid, she was told that marrying for love deemed you as weak.

Even though my parents were married before dad had gained his wealth, my mom knew that he would make a large income later in life, and that was enough for her. Getting pregnant with my brother and I was purely accidental. She had never planned on having kids with my father, but she did.

Mr. Philips, the principal, propped his elbows up on his desk, and stared at us. Mr. Philips had thin gray hair that kinda reminded me of those politicians that like to believe they're still young. He had large, bushy eyebrows that he likes to arch a lot, for some weird reason. In the five minutes that we had been in his office, he had arched them about fifteen times.

For the first time since we had sat down, he decided to speak. "So, let me get this straight. You were discriminating against Miss Laghari because of her tshirt?" He asked the red headed girl, who I had learned was
named Mollie Nicholson.

"No, sir. I wasn't discriminating against her. I was simply asking her about her preferences," she tried to defend herself, but by the looks of it, not even Mr. Philips was believing the bullshit that was spewing out of her
mouth.

He arched his eyebrows once again. "Mollie,
I have watched the tapes. You were, in fact, discriminating against her. If you want to make this easier for yourself, you can stop lying to me. I have witnesses that are saying that you were being very rude to her, including your teacher."

"I haven't done anything wrong. You have
to believe me. I wouldn't intentionally hurt anyone." She attempted to plead her case.

At this point, the fakest tears I have ever seen were streaming down her face. She was trying really hard to make people feel sorry for her, but it wasn't working. She should just give
up. She's beginning to look pathetic.

Beginning? I'm pretty sure she started to look pathetic when she purchased those hair extensions.

You know that awkward moment when you laugh at your own joke?

The same thing happened to me, but I laughed at a joke I didn't even say. All of them gave me a look of confusion. Embarrassed, I sunk lower into the cushion of my chair.