The Fake Girlfriend

Chapter 9

n i n e

            "By now, you'd think people would have learnt to stop passing you the ball." Mila grumbled under her breath. I shot her a dirty look, deciding I would spend the rest of Phys. Ed avoiding the chaos revolving around a stupid, orange basket-ball. 

            "I honestly thought I had it!" I defended, and her eyebrows rose in disbelief. 

            Katy Shaw jogged past us, her long blond hair tailing behind her, with the grace of a swimsuit model. She then stopped and looked over at us, her face writhing with disapproval. "Aren't you going to play?" She cocked a bony hip to the side and her fairly large forehead creased.

            Shaking my head, "No. If you haven't noticed I suck at basketball – along with the majority of pointless sports." I answered.

            Blank confusion crossed her face.

            "Oh!" Mila shouted, "There goes the ball!"

            Katy snapped out of her daze, and in a flash, she was sprinting back into the game. Her sprint was fierce and animalistic; I was partially surprised people hadn't jumped out of her way when she charged her way into the battle of who had authority over the ball.

            "Along with all the fucks I give."

            I looked at Mila, shocked, and erupted into laughter. 

            "What?" she chuckled, "I honestly don't have anymore fucks to give. I like to consider it a side effect," – I threw her a quizzical look – "after my reckless mistake of banging Marshall."

             "I'm sure pregnancy doesn't  reduce the amount of cares you have." 

             She narrowed her eyes at me. "Well it does for me."

              "Oh really?" I laughed.

               "But on a serious note: I'm sorry."

             I furrowed my brow, confused. "For what?"

            Reluctantly, she sighed. "For being a hormonal bitch yesterday. I don't blame you for bringing Kyle. In all honesty, I was feeling bitchy that day because my mum was considering hiring a tutor to home-school me until I gave birth."

             Sharply inhaling, "She's what?!" 

            "Oh don't worry!" She smiled a cynical, crooked smile. "I threatened her that if she did, I would move in with Marshall."

             I shook my head disapprovingly. "Such a polite daughter." I commented, sarcasm dripping off my tone.

         Mila grinned wryly, slinging her arm around my neck. "Oh, I'm so not done with the story. Something even worse happened yesterday."

             "What–"

             "Shh." She restricted me from talking with her finger, before continuing, "I'll tell you later," she quickly glanced at Coach, then sent me a swift smile, "promise."

             "Sure." 

            The ear-splitting screech of a whistle, rang through my ears like torrential screams making me wince in surprise. "What the–"

        "Enough chitter-chatter, Hastings and Preston!" Coach Stubbleton urged, impatiently. Somehow she had managed to appear right by my side, going unseen and unheard.