Thalia

Chapter 21: Un-agreed Deal

Chapter 21: Un-agreed Deal

"You're freakin' crazy, Rose. You know that if I hadn't walked my butt past you, you would've been found out and I would've had to crack some skulls, including yours." Cora, I'm going to need you to step outside and count to ten to release this anger inside of you. Most people may think that yelling and physicality is the worst way to show anger. But no; the scariest anger anyone can ever encounter is that of Cora when she's calm-mad. She talks normally, but her face shows she's fuming inside reading to attack any living soul that comes within a foot of her and/or her muffins. 

Cora loves her muffins. Don't cross her.

"Look, Cora; it was an honest mistake. It's not like I thought twice about what I was doing, I did it on impulse. And if you're trying to keep it a secret, talking about it in the hallway isn't the brightest idea." True stuff. We're standing in the deserted hallway next to the boy's locker room which I should get away from as soon as possible since I'm smelling a mixture of Ryan and dirt. It's not a cute combination.

"Fine, Rose. Ignore the fact that you're being irresponsible and hang out with Ryan. It's your secret not mine. But if you want help you'll meet me at my house Monday night to continue my studies. Okay?" Okay, Cora, whatever you say. Anything to get me off of your Hit List. 

"Okay." Cora adjusts her sling backpack on her shoulder and turns around, walking down the hall towards the parking lot doors. Thanks to you and your mother of all lectures, I'm late to see Ryan. You know good and well that I was supposed to meet him after school to watch his soccer practice.

You bipolar, CD scratching, monster. I still haven't forgiven you for destroying my CD, either. I used to love the Backstreet Boys and now every faithful memorization of their songs are gone. 

I start to jog to the opposite exit doors that go to the field when a pair of arms encircle my waist and slam me against the vandalized, green, lockers. You Punk-Nugget, Johnny! "Johnny! Get off--mmph!" He instantly covers his hand over my mouth, giving me the taste of fresh cow manure. Crusty boy. 

Johnny slides his hands down more in both areas that include his left hand location moving from waist to butt cheek, and his right hand from full-mouth covering to clamping them shut with his two fingers. If there's nothing dirtier than the man player, Johnny's hands all over me, I don't know what is.

"Shh, babe. It's all okay, Johnny Boy is here to meet all. Of. Your. Needs." Oh good grades, no this isn't happening. I'm being sexually harassed by a boy who loves to sexually harass. What're the odds out of his--what? Three hundred attempts so far? He is the definition of a grand failure.

I stomp down on his foot that releases his hold on any other part of me and his wimp, girlish scream of pain. He wouldn't be all tough and mighty if his loser friends heard that one. He'd end up like a Twinkie with those guys: Expired.

Maybe I could retaliate on him, but if Johnny says he knows who's after me, what if he's one of them? Or the ring-leader? He can probably take me out in a heartbeat and I'll never see prom. I've always dreamed of having a theme of purple and black for it. But with Johnny's boulder butt, he'll take that away. I will not let him take away my purple. There's only one thing left to do. 

Run like it's December 21, 2012.

The fierce breeze draping through my chestnut hair just makes me feel like I'm actually accomplishing something. Unlike my very deadly and accident prone flying lessons from Cora. I didn't mean to kill the turtle; it just happened.

"If you were smart, Rose, you'd quit running and get back here!" Well, I guess today I'm going to be considered stupid.

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