IN LOVE WITH THE MIDDLE SCHOOL BAD BOY: Emma Grace Trilogy(Book One)

CHAPTER 7

MIKEYS P.O.V:
Phillepe and I run with the girl back to her house. I can never remember her name, though I've heard it said plenty of times. . .when those kids taunted her. I feel almost guilty. I've never helped her when she was being taunted, I just sit there, looking out the window. Then, just today, she was being beat up, and I just stood there like an idiot!

We reach the house. The porch is still covered in the girls blood. I wince at the site of it.

"Emma!," Phillepe yells, "you didn't tell me you bled!" He's looking at the blood on the floor. She shrugs.

"It wasn't important," she says nonchalantly.

"There's a stain on dark carpet Emma," he growls. She shrugs again and turns to the door. Phillepe watches behind us, looking for any of Alex's pals. Or Alex himself.

We walk inside and pull off our coats. Phillepe looks over at Emma and practically faints. I look over at her and almost drop dead. Emma's whole left side is covered in dry blood, not an inch of skin visible under the red.

"Aw crud," Emma mutters. "Not again."

"Again!," I shout, "you mean this has happened before!" Phillepe and Emma share a glance.

"Hey bro," Phillepe asks me, "you okay?"

"Why are you asking me," I question calmly. I point at Emma. "Look at her. They've done this before! Dale, Josh-,"

"Jeremy, Axel, Pat," Emma says, cutting me off, "and pretty much three quarters of Plainfield East highschool."

"When was this?," Phillepe asks. She takes a seat, and so do we. Emma takes a deep breath.
EMMA'S P.O.V:
"Well," I begin, "it was two years ago, in fourth grade. Jeremy and I had just gotten into a fight, and he wasn't about to let me off easy. One night, I was walking around, and he had half the senior year beat me half dead." I say it casually, like it doesn't matter. Mikey just gapes at me. Phillepe looks about ready to scream.

"Why didn't you tell me," Phillepe snarls in my direction.

I shrug and say, "because it wasn't important." Phillepe leaps up and grabs my blood soaked shoulder.

"Yes it is," he barks, "now answer me again. Why didn't you tell me?" I stare at him in fear.
Phillipe's P.O.V:
I look at Emma's fear filled eyes, and relax my grip, but don't let go. My eyes are narrowed and I'm breathing heavily with anger. Why didn't she tell me? To be honest, I'm more hurt than angry. All of a sudden, Emma's eyes become wisty, like she's remembering something. Then she looks at me with quiet hurt and says, "because you were just like them."