𝐆𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 || #𝟏

Chapter 8

How did Luke even know that Alexis was going to hijack our presentation, also, why did he even make a new one? I have so many questions, but no time to answer them because the bell had gone and people around me were standing up and getting ready to go home.

But I'm determined to catch Lilliana, Alexis and Lila and get to the bottom of this.

-- ------ --

"I can't believe you just did that," I scoff as I approach Lilliana by our lockers. "I can't believe you, Alexis and Lilac stole my project."

Lilliana sighed and slammed her locker door, letting the bang register with my ears. "I didn't steal anything."

She fixes on her beret and turns to me, looking at me with her weather-beaten eyes; brushing out her umber curls out of her creamy skin.

"You did," I say back. "You stole our project, my only question is, why would you do that?"

"Listen Jasmine, I have no idea what you're talking about as usual. So you can take your accusations and shove it up your ass."

She starts walking away, swinging her backpack angrily over her shoulders. I swear she mutters something about me being a crazy lunatic before she disappears from my view into the streets.

Where have I heard that before? Five years ago when I was minding my own business and Lilliana had let me borrow one of her pens out of her rainbow smiggle pencil case that everyone was dying to have. I had opened the pink compartment and had gone through her sticky notes until I found a note that went like:

Sunday's are the best, and I would chuck out the rest

Jasmine is the worst along with Emily and Tina

Cause their a big fat disgrace

They don't care about their friends or their family

Sunday's are the best, and I would chuck out the rest

(Meaning all of the above)

Aside from the horrible poetic skills Lilliana showed (remind me to never get Lilliana to write a poem again), it really let me see Lilliana's true colours. Tina, Emily and I had all confronted her about the poem at lunch the next day and Lilliana made up some lame excuse about how she didn't mean what she had said and that she was just upset.

Emily ranted about how she should've just written down her feelings into her diary, instead of doing it in her pencil case - giving us the chance to find her doggerel floozy amateur verse.

I want to kick the lockers in frustration, but I don't. The blue rusty lockers pleadingly look at me while saying - "please don't hurt us. We cannot defend ourselves from you and your rage. We are old."

I need something to kick. But I can't think of anything to do to channel my wrath. Then I remember what Lilliana would do; write your feelings down and make a horrible poem out of it.

It's the best option I have right now. So I grab out my notebook and start scribbling down angry verses about Lilliana.

Angry memories of her ruining my shirt three years ago seep into my mind. I can still remember that summer day as clear as glass.

We were playing school vs anti school patrol and Lilliana had been dragging me across the concrete since I had refused to give up and surrender.

The real shocker was when I stood up and Lilac pointed out the huge tear on my yellow shirt. It was lucky I had my school rugby jumper with me, because if I didn't, I don't know what would've happened. I would've gotten called to the office probably by my teacher and my mum would've been sent here to drop off my backup.

I went to take a shower that night and made the mistake of leaving the ruined shirt on the bathroom counter. So when the steam finally cleared and the doodles I had sketched onto the mirror had evaporated - my mum finally found out about what happened to my shirt and had gotten mad at Lilliana.

But she had mostly gotten mad at me. She told me I should've been more responsible or some shit. I remember anger boiling in my veins that night, closing my eyes while clenching my fists while I tried to sleep in my bed.

I understood that it was not entirely Lilliana's fault, and maybe mine for being incredibly stubborn. But that wouldn't stop the anger from coming into my body and registering with my mind.

I finally finished writing four lines of my poem. Or my rhyme, just something to make myself feel better and channel my anger out.

When did you finally decided that I

Was no longer good enough for you?

You took my love for you

And made me look like a fool.

I tuck away my notebook when I see a couple of seniors down the halls. Then I realise, I am all alone here, everyone has left. I peered around the halls, looking to see if any of my friends were still here, and I was right. There is no one left.

There is this one girl. Jolene, the girl that is constantly made fun of by Iris at the lunch table.

She sits alone, staring at a photo in her hands. And at the corner of her eye, I can see a single tear slip out and drop onto the delicate paper.

"Hey..." I softly say, making my way towards her. Jolene drops the flaky piece of brown in her hands onto the greasy floor in fright as she sees me coming into view.

"Hi," she distractedly says as she snatches the photo from the ground and stashes it in the pocket of her navy jacket.

"What's that photo about?" I carefully ask. I know I'm pushing my boundaries, Jolene doesn't even know who I am. And if she does, she probably knows me as the girl who hangs out with the school's biggest bullies.

To my surprise, Jolene takes out the photo and smiles as she sees it. It's a photo of her family, her dad is wearing a suit - looking as happy as ever while her mum cheerfully looks down at a baby resting in her arms.

"This photo was taken before my dad..." She pauses. "Before he started fighting with my mum."

She sadly looks at me with her hazel eyes, brushing out the tears in her eyes that were starting to form.

"I don't even know why I'm telling you this, you'll probably just make fun of me like Iris does everyday."

"I won't," I reassure. "The truth is, my parents fight a lot too."

"They do?" She sniffles, pulling out a tissue from her backpack.

"They do," I confirm. "It's horrible just listening to their screams."

"It is," she agrees. "Well anyways, thanks for this. Jasmine. Also, I have one more question..."

"Yeah?" I say, getting up and brushing off the dust on my jeans.

"Are we friends?"

"If you want to be," I goofily smile. Jolene lightly smiles back.

We're both stuck staring and smiling at each other until a familiar nasty laugh echoes down the  musty hall.

And my mood is ruined, because I'm charging right at the girl who nearly cost me a failed grade. The girl who I thought was my friend. Or was.

Alexis.