A Beautiful, Terrible Love by Lucky 97 (books for 9th graders txt) 📖
- Author: Lucky 97
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Today, all the tables were horrible-looking, covered in pepperoni and melted cheese. I could tell what the menu was today with the food choices being displayed on the people that were supposed to be eating them. Apparently today was food fight day. Yesterday was the end of the water bottle volleyball event, and tomorrow... I quickly examined the calendar on the wall... was the pineapple basketball tournament. A long time ago the PTO calendar was made into a crazy food calendar, scribbled on by some troublemaker. Since then, people have actually started to DO the events. The teachers, after a while of trying to stop them, began eating in their rooms, leaving the lunchroom in chaos. I have to admit, though, the crazy activities were fun to watch.
Of course, It was mostly confined to the back of the lunchroom. As the tables got closer to the ledge, they grew increasingly more calm, the wannabes gravitating towards these closer tables. And then, when you finally reach the ledge, there is peace. No pineapple basketball would dare roll as far as the ledge.
I clawed at Sadie's arm as we walked closer and closer to it. I couldn't lie to myself. I was scared with a capital S. This was new for me. Sadie, on the other hand, was totally confident. She walked with a lilt to her step, a smile gracing her face, as she dragged me along with her.
"Walk normally!" she leaned over and hissed into my ear, "and smile!" I struggled to do as she commanded. I could feel everyone's eyes on me.
Akemi and Ayako were both already seated, conversing in low tones. As we approached, they both shot me a glare. However, they quickly amended their stares when they realized Sadie was with me. "Hey, Sadie," Akemi smiled, pointedly ignoring me.
Anger filled me. What had I done to them to make them act this way for so long?
"So, um, Eve," Ayako said, "are you going out with Peter?"
"No," I replied, "but we are friends now."
"Oh," short and bitter, her word signified clearly that she didn't care. A silence hung in the air between all of us.
Sadie walked to the edge of the platform and grabbed a stray chair. Hefting it over her head, she carried it over to the table and sat it down. "Here, Eve. A seat for you."
"Eve's sitting here?" they both asked in unison. It was surprisingly common for them to cough out the same words at once. They truly were different from Sadie and I.
How odd. Two sets of twins at the same table.
"Yeah," Sadie said nonchalantly, not noticing their gags.
My eyes narrowed in anger at their expressions. Quickly, I decided to start conversation.
"Guess what?" I said, forcing excitement.
"What?" all three of them said at once.
"I'm going to be on the cover of Vogue next month!" I told them, elation laced into my words. Sadie stared at me, openmouthed, and both Akemi and Ayako gasped. They were trying, though, to not show their amazement.
"Really?!" Sadie exclaimed.
"Yes," I nodded, "and in this outfit."
"Wow," Sadie said, amazed, "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
"It was this morning," I shrugged.
Jared walked up to us, balancing a full tray of pizza, soda, and a ton of chips. With blonde hair and green eyes, he had an enchanting face that reminded me of a puppy, accompanied by a handsome smile. He looked at me, at Sadie, then back a me.
"She's sitting with us today," Sadie clarified for him.
"Okay. Hey Eve," Jared grinned at me, and sat down. His gaze skimmed over my form, "Looking good."
I blushed at his compliment, Akemi visibly seething. I could tell she liked Jared, with the way she looked at him constantly. Jared was a flirt, though, and Akemi shouldn't have worried. Although I wasn't sure that he liked Akemi, I could tell he was just flirting with me lightly. He was one of those infuriating people that gets you to fall for him even though he cheats on you and hits on every girl he sees.
"So what does it feel like to be famous?" Jared questioned, focusing on me. Peter appears at the table, glancing at me once and then sitting down.
I smile, "Well, I'm not really... famous."
"Yes you are! If you are on TV, you're famous," he insisting, a smile playing on the edge of his mouth.
I laughed, "Well, it's not like anyone cares if I'm famous here. It's rather normal."
"That's true," he said thoughtfully. Nobody here, after the first couple of days, treated me as if I was something special.
Akemi looked at me angrily, demanding me with her eyes to stop talking with Jared. Her long, straight hair was perfectly smooth, her face tanned and clear-complected. They both really were beautiful.
"Eve," Ayako purred suddenly, her voice as smooth as honey, "where did you get those shoes? They're pretty! But, isn't one of your straps undone?"
I looked down at my mismatched shoes, and realized, to my dismay, that she was right. I bent to hook it back in place, my fingers fumbling with the strap.
Suddenly, I felt a strange object meld to my hair, a gooey liquid sinking into my scalp. In alarm, I sat back up, reaching up with one hand and feeling the sticky object with my fingertips. It was a piece of pepperoni, accompanied by a mass of hot melted cheese.
I glanced at Sadie, Peter, and Jared to see their surprised gazes. I slid my eyes to Akemi and Ayako, them both staring at me. "Sorry," Akemi apologized quickly, "my fork slipped."
Ayako barely hid a small bout of giggles.
I glared at them both, my anger finally bursting. They. Put. Pepperoni. In. My. Hair. And judging by the look adorning Sadie's horrified face, it wasn't an accident.
They were so dead.
"Leave," I said icily, my voice firm and demanding.
Akemi laughed, "Who are you to tell us to leave? You're the one that doesn't belong!"
"Akemi!" Sadie exclaimed.
"If you don't leave," I laced intimidation in each word, "In my Vogue interview, I will tell them that I have been bullied for over four years by two mean, ugly girls called Akemi and Ayako, and they threatened me with a knife. And then, magically, a copy of Vogue just might appear on the principal's desk..."
There was the squeak of chairs against the rough floor, a scuffling of feet, and they were gone. Silence greeted us all, hanging between the four that were left.
"They... threatened you with a knife?" Sadie finally asked. Peter stared at me with the same concern. I nodded silently. It was last year when I said I would tell on them.
Jared was the only one without fear or concern in his features. As I met his gaze, he let loose a laugh, a loud, booming one that echoed in the lunchroom.
"You," he said in the midst of his chuckles, "are awesome."
Conversation, after that, went smoothly. We all were, secretly, glad that they were gone. Jared told hilarious stories about Akemi and Ayako, and had us laughing all lunch period. We watched the epic food fight, the lunch ladies quickly shutting the gates to the food area for fear of getting the same food they prepared all over their clothes. Unlike what Akemi said, I really felt like they enjoyed having me at their table. They included me in their conversations and listened to me when I spoke. The only other people that truly listened to me in my life were Mom and Dex. Pretty pathetic, right?
Akemi and Ayako were nowhere to be found, but it was better that way, I guess. The load I had carried silently, the torture of repetitive insults and jabs, was gone, leaving me feeling light and airy. I had finally learned to stand my ground, and if all it took was pepperoni in my hair, then I would have wanted them to do so long ago. My hair was my pride and joy, and this morning I had curled it, pulling it into a pretty half-ponytail.
But now, everything was looking up. Life was almost as great as when Dex was by my side.
"Come on," Sadie said as the bell rang, "let's clean the cheese out of your hair."
I waved to Peter and Jared, then followed her through the double doors. For once, I was hoping for the best.
Chapter 17
Dex
"Why do you have to be so glum?" Serena snarled in my ear, while still managing to smile for the tsunami of cameras surrounding us. We were sitting in a pleasurable little cafe, drastically expensive, which was famously known for being a celebrity's hangout. Serena had demanded for us to go here, so we did. I didn't care anymore about what we will do or where will we will go. I have long since felt numb to those sorts of things.
It has been my third week of dating Serena, and every second I've spent with her has made me colder.
Emotions don't strike me anymore. Sadness, pain, and happiness slowly became strangers to me in my second week. I just couldn't feel it. I have gradually changed, growing less and less humanlike with every minute that passed. Serena tried to make up for my robotic attitude with her superficial words, but I could tell she was shaken by my coldness. I wish I could make it easier for her. She was actually a decent girl, but she took away from me what meant the most.
That was unforgivable.
I had begun to stop thinking, my heartbeats slow and measured. I couldn't sing. Forcing the words out is too hard for me. How can I sing about love and relationships right now when I have only broken love in my heart?
I said nothing to Serena. I had nothing I want to say to her. Mean, harsh words do not come to me anymore.
"Please at least act happy. Remember who holds the power," she regretfully added to the end of her command. I could tell she wanted desperately to not have to say that. She wanted me to obey her demand on my own, out of willingness. She wanted to be my friend, that much I could tell.
I forced a meager smile to my face, the cameras flashing around us as I unwillingly beam. A camera directly next to us clicked, a big one, whose owner was a big, hairy man the size of a mammoth. I immediately recognized him as the reporter from People, and winced inside. Our pictures would be plastered on covers across America, then nobody would know the truth.
One cover, the owner's hair a light, milky brown, her eyes a bright blue, would be the one that hurt me the most. Because I knew that cover would pain her more than I could possibly imagine.
Even thinking of her stirred up emotion inside my heart.
"Leave," I growled to the swarms of pesky reporters. They slowly but surely inched away, their forms still trying to be by me, to hear the delicious gossip while still edging to their cars. Serena blinked, her magnificent black hair waving in the breeze, in shock. It was the first time I had spoken in two full weeks.
The employees buzzed around us, navigating through the throngs of tables to get to their destinations. It was a roomy little cafe, although decorated with an expensive, beautiful taste that attracted movie stars to it like bees to honey. We were sitting in a booth in the corner of the
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