by Anne Thomas
"Not exactly," I replied shortly. "I just met a guard dog of yours."
He looked perplexed. "What?"
"Mari. Apparently, I'm interfering, fat and not pretty enough to be your girlfriend. Also, according to her and her friends, you're hers, and only she deserves you," I informed him. He pulled a face.
"Maybe I shouldn't have turned her down like I did," he pondered, screwing up his mouth. I raised an eyebrow. "I laughed at her," he clarified. "I shouldn't have done, I know, but she asked Liam and me was stood behind me and pulling faces and me just...laughed."
I slapped him on the arm. "That's not very nice," I said, disapprovingly.
"Nope," he agreed, "But she's a bitch anyway, so it all adds up. Don't listen to her."
"I wasn't planning on it," I replied. "I don't think I'm fat and I don't give a crap if I'm not pretty or if Gordon Morgan thinks I'm interfering or whatever. I'd just appreciate it if you called your Rottweilers off, thanks."
He smiled, amused. "It's done," he promised me. And then, in one of those really weird moments that kept on happening lately, his hand reached up as if – oh, I don't know, like he was going to caress my cheek or play with my hair. He kept on doing that, and then realizing at last minute and dropping his hand. This time, however, he didn't stop, instead of tucking a strand of my hair, loose from my ponytail, behind my ear and then stepping back, looking kind of nervous.
"I'd better..." I gestured towards the Mini. Pascal was leaning against it, watching us with a smile on her face, while Gareth sat inside the car, in the backseat.
"Sure. Who is that?" Billie frowned.
"That's Pascal. She's my brother's fiancée."
"Nice...hair?" Billie looked puzzled and then recovered. "She looks exotic."
"She's French if that helps any."
"French? Like, seriously?" Billie looked amused.
"She's not really French. She grew up in Canada. She's only been to France about three times in her whole life, but she considers herself French more than anything," I explained. "She's very romantic."
"Really?" Billie cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted: "Bonjour, Pascal! Vous avez l'air très joli! J'aime ta robe!"
"Merci," she shouted back, a smile on her face, and waggled her fingers at me.
"I'll see you tomorrow," I said to him, and he grinned at me.
"See you," he agreed, walking back towards his friends. "And don't worry, I'll call the Rottweilers off."
"Much appreciated." I began to walk towards Pascal's car and climbed into the front seat. She joined me, sitting behind the steering wheel and starting the engine. She looked positively delighted.
"So that was Billie, huh?" she asked, French accent back again. I nodded, wrinkling my nose. The car stank of her flowery perfume.
"He told me I looked very pretty," she informed me, "And that he liked my dress."
Wow. I hadn't been aware he was blind (not that she wasn't pretty but God, that was an ugly dress).
"Did he now?" I asked, avoiding Gareth's eye in the wing mirror.
"Yes. He speaks French," she gushed, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. She
"I know. I told you that."
"Hold onto him," Pascal told me. "Anyone who speaks French and sees that this dress is a highly stylish piece of clothing is..."
I tuned out, not wanting to hear the rest of her sentence, and fought the urge to whack my head off the dashboard.
Chapter 13: Sense of Déjà Vu
Word travels fast.
As I mentioned, Mari was incredibly popular and well liked (for reasons unknown), and therefore it got round about our little...chat, or whatever you want to call it, and Pascal's involvement. Even by the next day, people were talking about it. My friends found the tale particularly amusing.
"I really want to meet Pascal," Adam told me one day, after Drama. "She sounds amusing."
"You really don't," I replied, shaking my head. "Seriously. Do you speak French?"
He raised one eyebrow quizzically. "Uh, nope. No more than 'bonjour' and 'au revoir'."
"Then she probably won't like you," I said with a roll of my eyes. "Anyway, I've got to go and speak to Mr. Rixon about my English coursework, so save me a seat."
"Sure, sure." He waved at me, and I left the drama studio, dashing down the corridor and up the nearest stairwell. I passed Billie on my way up and didn't pause for much more than a 'hello'. I really disliked Mr. Rixon – he could be slightly creepy and was way too pretentious, so I really wanted to get this little meeting over and done with.
When I arrived, I found that Gwen, Suzanne and two other girls, Evelyn Awbrey and Linda Folland, already occupied his attention. Gwen appeared to be arguing with him about one of her grades while the rest of them looked on, bored.
"Hello, Miss Powell," Mr. Rixon greeted me; looking up from the piece of paper he was frowning at while arguing with Gwen. "Just wait a moment while I finish with Miss Reynolds."
I nodded and smiled in response, leaning against the computer desks situated at the back of the room.
"I'm sorry, Gwen, but that's my decision. According to the mark scheme you only got 20 marks, so it's a C. I'm sorry, I can't change that. You'll have to rewrite it if you want to get a higher grade," Mr. Rixon said to her, handing the sheet of paper back to her. "It was a good story, but you just need to make some improvements." He nodded at me. "Maybe Nerys could help you?"
I hesitated between feeling embarrassed, smug or modest; I wasn't sure which emotion to land on. Instead, I just smiled at him and looked down at my feet.
Gwen, Suzanne, Evelyn and Linda trooped past me on their way out. Gwen shot me a dark look, Suzanne kind of smiled, and Evelyn and Linda both ignored me completely.
I was done in about two minutes; all I had to do was hand in an essay I'd made some corrections to and get my name marked on the tracker to say I'd handed it in. That done, I bade my English teacher goodbye and left the classroom...
Where, naturally, Gwen, Suzanne, Evelyn and Linda lay in wait.
"Hey," I said, starting to walk around them when Gwen grabbed hold of my arm. I felt a sense of déjà vu and was reminded of the Mari incident the day before.
"I heard what happened between you and my cousin yesterday," Gwen said through gritted teeth.
"Yes," I said, "I expected you would have. Everyone else does."
"I also heard what you said about me."
I paused, thinking back. "Oh, yes," I remembered, hitching my bag up my shoulder, "What was it again? Annoying, bitchy, show off...Did I forget anything?"
"I don't appreciate being called a bitch," she said curtly.
"And I don't appreciate your mad cousin warning me off my boyfriend," I snapped in response. "Anyway, what do you care if I don't like you? You don't like me so in my eyes that make us pretty even."
"You're such a bitch," she hissed, putting her hands on her wide hips and glaring up at me. "And you think you're so great."
I nearly yawned. "Your cousin said all this yesterday. There's no need in repeating what's already been said, especially as what she had to say never really interested me in the first place."
Her eyes flashed. "I could make life hard for you," she growled. Suzanne, Evelyn, and Linda all exchanged looks, rather nervous ones in my opinion. Suzanne turned on her heel and began to walk down the corridor, bypassing a group of girls who were just walking up the corridor on her way.
"Make life hard for me? How?" I put my own hands on my hips and narrowed my eyes. "What could you possibly do? You hold no influence over the people I consider to be the most important in my life, and you certainly don't have enough balls to do anything physical, so – "
And then she slapped me. I'm sure she expected some retaliation, but I was just kind of a bit stunned. I'd never been hit before, and I began to sympathize with Billie.
I cradled my cheek in my hand and glared at her. "You have a better slap than I'd expected," I complimented.
Her hand swun
g as if she was going to hit me again, but another hand stopped the blow. It was a girl's hand, identified by the fake talons upon each nail. The hand actually belonged to Nichola Cryer, Adam's female equivalent and – if rumors are to be believed – ex-girlfriend.
She was taller than Gwen, with choppy dark hair with blonde highlights and catlike yellow eyes. There was plenty of fake tan and foundation adorning her body and her skirt looked more like a belt than anything else; and for someone who'd pretty much scared me since Year 7, I'd never been happier to see her. Especially as she had her gang of equally intimidating friends crowding the corridor next to us.
"What d'you think you're doing?" she demanded, throwing Gwen's hand to one side. "I get you don't like the girl, but there's no need to hit her. That's just...harsh."
Another girl stepped forward. Kerry Mully, her name was, and she was in my Spanish class. She was the sort of girl who acted like a lad and had a violent temper but paired it with a habit of sticking up for people. Her hair was so blonde it was practically yellow.
"You couldn't make life hell for her," Kerry said, folding her arms and walking past Linda and Evelyn to stand in front of Gwen. "You wouldn't know where to start. And she has Adam on her side now. If anything, it'd be her that could make your life hell."
I edged away from them. "I, uh," I stumbled over my words, "I have to go."
"We'll come with you," Nichola said, stepping around Gwen. For some reason, she decided to throw her arm around my shoulder and gave me a little squeeze as we walked down the corridor away from them.
"You okay?" she asked. "I hate that bitch," she added reflectively before I could reply. "If you ever need someone to sort her out I'll do it for you. I've been told my nails can do a lot of damage."
I eyed the very long and deadly nails that were resting against the lapel of my blazer, and I nodded. "I, uh, I can see why. They've very..."
"Oh, they're fake." She examined the nails on her other hand and flicked her hair over her shoulder. It caught me in the face and made my nose itch, and I suppressed a sneeze.
"I kind of figured," I mumbled. "Um, thanks for stopping her from hitting me."
"No problem," she said breezily. "Although from what I've heard you coulda knocked her out. You gave that Winters kid a black eye. That takes some doing."
"Are you really going out with him?" Kerry asked, appearing on my other side. "No offense, but you don't seem like his type."
"None was taken," I responded. "And, uh, yeah, I guess...I guess I am going out with him?" I winced as the sentence came out like a question rather than a statement.
Nichola laughed. "That's so cute! Seriously, I think you look cute together. I mean, he's so dark, and you're kind of fair."
"Uh. Thanks?" I didn't really know what to say to that.
"That Gwen bitch, she's just jealous," Nichola continued as we swept into the canteen. "And remember, she gives you any more trouble, just let me know and I'll knock her out for you." She released me and wrapped her arm around Kerry's shoulder. "Me and Mully here. Just give us a shout and WHAM!" she released Kerry and delivered a punch to Kerry's shoulder. Kerry let out a shriek and stumbled sideways into some Year 8 girl, who dropped her entire plate of chips and gravy over Kerry's feet.
If looks could kill, that Year 8 girl would have been dead. Kerry's face went bright red, and she literally exploded, yelling and screaming and swearing until the poor girl was practically crying.
"See? Mully'd have that bitch ripped apart in ten seconds," Nichola said in a satisfied voice, eyeing the unfolding scene in an amused way.
"I believe you." And I did. "But, I'd better get going." I gestured towards my friends who were all watching with weird looks on their faces.
"Sure, Nesta. I'd better break this up." By this time, Kerry looked like she was ready to start rolling with the punches, and I gratefully made my escape.
Nesta? That was a new one. I'd never been called that before.
I sighed dramatically as I swung my bag onto the tabletop and dropped into my usual seat. They were all staring at me, particularly Billie and Adam.
"What's wrong with your face?" said Billie, just as Adam said, "Why were you with Nichola?"
"Well..." I set about unpacking my lunch from my bag. "I went to see Mr. Rixon, and Gwen was waiting outside and we kind of had an argument and Nichola stepped in and told Gwen to back off..." Kind of.
"And your face?" Billie prompted.
"Um. Well, Gwen kind of...kind of hit me, I guess, but it was just a slap and it doesn't even hurt." Billie swore and Adam looked more than a little bit pissed off.
"That bitch!" Siân and John said simultaneously, while Beth's mouth hung open. Sharon and Elisha both looked at me, concerned while Ann...Well, Ann just turned the page in some Welsh language edition of some chemistry book, not even paying attention.
"Did Nichola hit her?" Louis asked, stabbing his baked potato violently.
"No, but she offered to 'knock her out' if Gwen gave me any more trouble," I shrugged, unwrapping my chocolate bar. "Her and Kerry. Apparently, she's very good at scratching people with her nails. They're fake, if anyone's interested. They look like claws."
Adam now looked amused. "They are rather claw-like," he agreed.
"They have diamonds on them. They're kind of awful," I returned, as if we were sharing a secret, and he and Louis snorted.
"I'd take her up on the offer," Siân declared. "Seriously, I'd love to see Gwen get twat –"
"Are you going to report her?" Billie interrupted.
"Report her?" Even though I knew what he meant, I still felt confused.
"To a teacher," he said slowly, as if explaining to someone incredibly stupid. I shot him a glare.
"No one would believe me," I said confidently. "She's like, adored by all the teachers. Seriously. They'd think I was making it up."
"But Nichola saw what happened," Billie pressed, and I snorted.
"Billie, they would never believe Nichola over Gwen. Trust me."
"I agree with Billie," Ann spoke up, eyes not leaving her page. "She assaulted you. That's not just against the school rules, that's against the law."
"Look, it doesn't matter," I insisted. "It doesn't hurt. Don't pull that face, Billie, you didn't tell the teachers when I hit you and I gave you a black eye."
Billie didn't look amused. "I kind of deserved that punch, though," he shrugged. "I highly doubt you deserved her slapping you –"
"What did you say, just before she slapped you?" Ann's deep voice halted Billie's words once more. This time, her eyes weren't focused on the book but upon a spot somewhere on the other side of the hall, in the opposite direction of where I was sat.
"Um, I think I told her she didn't have enough balls to do anything physical," I said, crumpling up the chocolate bar wrapper in my fist. "Like hit me," I added, as if they didn't understand what that meant.
"Some would say that you provoked her," Ann said, resting her chin in her hand. "I'm not saying that you did, but you could bet that Gwen would say you provoked her first and you were goading her into doing it."
"Exactly." I nodded. "That, and the fact that most teachers think that the sun shines out of her bottom is why I'm not going to report her."
Billie shook his head, black curls bouncing. "I say you're making a mistake," he said.
"I say you should be quiet," I retorted. His jaw visibly tightened and his eyes flashed, and he abruptly stood. He gathered the rubbish left behind from his lunch into his hands and shrugged his rucksack onto his shoulder.
"I'm going to play basketball," he said shortly, dumping his rubbish in the bin and rubbing his hands together. His gaze fell on me for the briefest of seconds and he said, "I'd still consider reporting her. I'd back you up."
And with that, he strode out of the canteen. Everyone looked at me. I shrugged, and popped a cheese and onion crisp in my mouth. "I think he's got PMT."
Chapter 14: What A Creep
As October was drawing
to a close, my friends and myself began to eagerly plan our Halloween. We all adored this holiday, for no particular reason other than it was fun to dress up and fun to scare ourselves stupid later on in the night by watching horror films. Since Year 7 we'd held a party of some kind at a particular person's house.
That year, it was my house, and because it was a Friday (and a Friday on a half-term) everyone was sleeping over as well.
My mother was delighted. Ellen Powell is a woman very fond of parties and organising things. She also adored Halloween and had a ridiculous amount of Halloween decorations to prove it.
In the week before we broke up for half term, my friends and I basically spent all our time arranging things. And it was fun. We really got into it. We planned to all meet at my house at six, and then we'd watch a film before going trick or treating (so what if we were in Year 10? I have a younger brother, I have an excuse...I suppose). Then we'd go back to my house, eat, watch some more films, gorge on chocolate, watch some more films and so on and so forth.
I invited Sian, Beth, Ann, Elisha and Sharon, and John. We'd been concerned that he wouldn't be allowed to sleep over (him being a boy, and considering my brothers and all), but my mother adores John and said it was fine by her. Matty and Pete, needless to say, said it was not fine and that they'd beat him to within an inch of his life if he tried any 'funny business'. I ignored them.
But then we didn't know whether or not to invite Adam and Louis. They were, after all, quite good friends of ours now and they'd gone to the cinema with us quite a few times outside of school and things like that. So, I asked them.
"I'd love to," was Adam's response. "Is it fancy dress? I want to be a vampire. No, no, not just a vampire, a vampirate!"
It was quite amusing to see him acting momentarily childish. My amusement only increased when he asked if there would be apple bobbing, and I made a mental note to inform my mother of Adam's request.
Louis was slightly more hesitant. "Your brothers scare me," he explained. "I don't want them to break my leg or something."
"They won't," I assured him, crossing my fingers behind my back (one can never be too sure).
