A Beautiful Affair
Chapter 3
Chapter 3:
The sound of my alarm rang through my ears causing me to groan in annoyance. My head pounded from all the tears I shed yesterday. If I don’t go to school, everyone will ask me where I was and then people would start new fucking rumors.
If I only I had a normal family: a mom, dad, brother and sister, all healthy and alive. I wish I could turn back time and fix all the mistakes I made in freshman year. But that’s all ‘wishes’ right, and those never work. I remember walking home last nigh screaming, the whole way at the sky, cursing at god asking him ‘why’. I knew people heard me; they just didn’t come out from the comfort of there homes.
The sound of Paramore was slowly making me angrier and angrier, so I reached my hand over smacking the button, hoping the sound would distinguish. But my luck, it didn’t. I sat up throwing the covers from my body and smacked the black button again. Again. Again. Harder. Again. I yanked it out of my wall distinguishing the sound. Good.
I got up and looked at my phone, 5 minutes to school. Peachy. I threw a pair of skinny jeans and a jumper throwing my hair in a messy bun. I made my way to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. I took a good look at what looked back at me.
There were bags under my eyes and my blue-green color was drained, replaced by an ugly gray. My lips chapped and the color of my face was removed making me look like I’d seen a ghost.
Suddenly, my appearance in the mirror was changed and I was standing in front of it the first day of freshman year. My hair pinned straight, my make up looked like a crayon raped my face. My pushed up bra was sowing slightly with my low cut shirt and my booty shorts as short as ever.
I shook the appearance and thoughts out of my head while walking down the steps. I was a monster then, I was a terrible person. I passed Paris and my dad in the living room, sitting on the couch with the TV blank.
They said, “hello,” as I walked right by not even acknowledging their presence. I grabbed my converse and bad and walked out the door, putting my headphones in and blasting ‘parachute.’
I’m done being pushed around. I’m tired of feeling like nothing. I’m tired of feeling tired. I’m ready to stand up for myself. I’m angry at the world. At god. At everything and everyone. I walked up the sidewalk to the school gates. I looked at there front doors and pushed them open with force causing everyone to look at me. I might not be wearing the clothes or have the appearance to match ‘bitchy populars,’ but I’ve got the attitude. I’m back bitches, Juliet Summers from freshman year is back.
The doors shut seemingly slow behind me as I made my way up to Emma, standing by her locker.
She raised an eyebrow as I smirked, “Hello…” I trailed off waving my hand at her.
“And what do you want?” she replied popping her gum, giving me the evils.
“Well, erm, you see, I was just pondering these past years in my head and I realized how much… well, you miss me.”
She chocked on her gum, “what? Me… miss you?”
“That’s right, I got you to the top of the food chain in freshman year and then I made a bit of a ‘mistake’ we could call it. But, uh, you’ve gotta admit, without me in the group, you’ve got no witty comebacks and someone who can actually wear makeup properly. You’ve just got 4 bimbos and a couple of STDS roaming in the gang. Admit it. I’m the best thing that every happened to your group.”
Her possy just stood there dreaming into space. Point proven. She looked like she was pondering it for a moment, “Fine,” she sighed, “you’re back in, but tomorrow wear better clothes and no more sucking up to teachers and getting good grades, got it?”
“Got it.”
“Good.” She snapped her fingers and with that all of us were walking down the hall together to 1st period. This is better than feeling alone. Isn’t it?
**
I felt a pang of guilt wash through me as we walked away from the school nerds. I’ve been doing this all day, knocking people’s books from their hands, pushing people down, calling people names, I’ve gotten in trouble in all my classes today. I literally have 7 detentions and we still have one period left, math. I feel like I should thank Mr. Styles for yesterday, but I know if I did, Emma would be on my case.
Her exact words 5 minutes ago were, “Now listen, I want you to make Mr. Styles really mad this class, got it?”
Now I’m starting to re-think it. He was really nice yesterday, I should probably… no, I have to be mean. I took a seat in the front with Emma and watched Mr. Styles give me questioning eyes; I smirked and popped a loud bubble with my gum. Time to get Mr. Styles angry. Eh.
I felt terrible on the inside, but on the outside I put on a smirk. Mr. Styles was fuming; all period I’ve interrupted him, talked around and even went to the going of singing totally out of tine to Christmas tunes.
“Shut it! Now!” Mr. Styles was standing at his desk with the math book in his hands, his nostrils flared.
I raised my hands defensively and rested my palm on my chin. He was about to start speaking when “POP,” my gum made the loudest pop ever. I flinched and the rest of the class did too, when he slammed the book on the desk, causing papers to fly on the floor.
“Hallway, now!” his jaw was clenched as I stood up and walked painfully slow to the door, that was until I literally yanked into the hallway. He slammed the door shut and looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Who do you think you are?” he said trying to control his breathing as he ran a hand angrily through his curls.
“Well, I think I’m Juliet Summers. Youhno, your student?”
He looked at me suddenly; his eyes softened a little, “This isn’t you.”
I raised an eyebrow and crossed my hands on my chest, “you don’t know me.”
He shook his head as he whispered, “but I do.”
I scoffed, “oh so you know me? I might be mistaken, but I’ve had your class since yesterday and we only had a conversation yesterday and barley that.”
His eyes met mine, “I know about your mother.” My eyes nearly popped out of my head. “Your mother died of breast cancer and your little brother dies yesterday of leukemia. Don’t think just because I don’t know you personally, I haven’t got into your files.” He took a deep breath and continued, “I know that in freshman year you were one popular girl, but then at the dance you were raped. He said you forced him and from then on, everyone hated you.”
I was breathing heavily. No one as supposed to know about my mum or brother, my teacher especially. “Stop, please.” I whisper as the memories flash before my eyes. He continued talking as I put my hands in front of my eyes. “Stop” I mumble. “Please stop,” the tears were streaming down my face as I imagined the night of our dance.
His face in mine, his breath tickling my face, the pain, and the crying. “Please, please, please, please.” My back was sliding down the wall and my body was shaking. Suddenly two strong arms picked me up bridal style.
The air outside made me cry harder. A car door slammed and I was drawn into someone’s chest, crying my eyes out, the memories unbearable. Mr. Styles kissed my forehead and whispered comforting things in my eyes as I continued to call in his chest.
It didn’t cross my mind at the moment of how wrong this was. Me… in the arms of my engaged teacher’s car.
The sound of my alarm rang through my ears causing me to groan in annoyance. My head pounded from all the tears I shed yesterday. If I don’t go to school, everyone will ask me where I was and then people would start new fucking rumors.
If I only I had a normal family: a mom, dad, brother and sister, all healthy and alive. I wish I could turn back time and fix all the mistakes I made in freshman year. But that’s all ‘wishes’ right, and those never work. I remember walking home last nigh screaming, the whole way at the sky, cursing at god asking him ‘why’. I knew people heard me; they just didn’t come out from the comfort of there homes.
The sound of Paramore was slowly making me angrier and angrier, so I reached my hand over smacking the button, hoping the sound would distinguish. But my luck, it didn’t. I sat up throwing the covers from my body and smacked the black button again. Again. Again. Harder. Again. I yanked it out of my wall distinguishing the sound. Good.
I got up and looked at my phone, 5 minutes to school. Peachy. I threw a pair of skinny jeans and a jumper throwing my hair in a messy bun. I made my way to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. I took a good look at what looked back at me.
There were bags under my eyes and my blue-green color was drained, replaced by an ugly gray. My lips chapped and the color of my face was removed making me look like I’d seen a ghost.
Suddenly, my appearance in the mirror was changed and I was standing in front of it the first day of freshman year. My hair pinned straight, my make up looked like a crayon raped my face. My pushed up bra was sowing slightly with my low cut shirt and my booty shorts as short as ever.
I shook the appearance and thoughts out of my head while walking down the steps. I was a monster then, I was a terrible person. I passed Paris and my dad in the living room, sitting on the couch with the TV blank.
They said, “hello,” as I walked right by not even acknowledging their presence. I grabbed my converse and bad and walked out the door, putting my headphones in and blasting ‘parachute.’
I’m done being pushed around. I’m tired of feeling like nothing. I’m tired of feeling tired. I’m ready to stand up for myself. I’m angry at the world. At god. At everything and everyone. I walked up the sidewalk to the school gates. I looked at there front doors and pushed them open with force causing everyone to look at me. I might not be wearing the clothes or have the appearance to match ‘bitchy populars,’ but I’ve got the attitude. I’m back bitches, Juliet Summers from freshman year is back.
The doors shut seemingly slow behind me as I made my way up to Emma, standing by her locker.
She raised an eyebrow as I smirked, “Hello…” I trailed off waving my hand at her.
“And what do you want?” she replied popping her gum, giving me the evils.
“Well, erm, you see, I was just pondering these past years in my head and I realized how much… well, you miss me.”
She chocked on her gum, “what? Me… miss you?”
“That’s right, I got you to the top of the food chain in freshman year and then I made a bit of a ‘mistake’ we could call it. But, uh, you’ve gotta admit, without me in the group, you’ve got no witty comebacks and someone who can actually wear makeup properly. You’ve just got 4 bimbos and a couple of STDS roaming in the gang. Admit it. I’m the best thing that every happened to your group.”
Her possy just stood there dreaming into space. Point proven. She looked like she was pondering it for a moment, “Fine,” she sighed, “you’re back in, but tomorrow wear better clothes and no more sucking up to teachers and getting good grades, got it?”
“Got it.”
“Good.” She snapped her fingers and with that all of us were walking down the hall together to 1st period. This is better than feeling alone. Isn’t it?
**
I felt a pang of guilt wash through me as we walked away from the school nerds. I’ve been doing this all day, knocking people’s books from their hands, pushing people down, calling people names, I’ve gotten in trouble in all my classes today. I literally have 7 detentions and we still have one period left, math. I feel like I should thank Mr. Styles for yesterday, but I know if I did, Emma would be on my case.
Her exact words 5 minutes ago were, “Now listen, I want you to make Mr. Styles really mad this class, got it?”
Now I’m starting to re-think it. He was really nice yesterday, I should probably… no, I have to be mean. I took a seat in the front with Emma and watched Mr. Styles give me questioning eyes; I smirked and popped a loud bubble with my gum. Time to get Mr. Styles angry. Eh.
I felt terrible on the inside, but on the outside I put on a smirk. Mr. Styles was fuming; all period I’ve interrupted him, talked around and even went to the going of singing totally out of tine to Christmas tunes.
“Shut it! Now!” Mr. Styles was standing at his desk with the math book in his hands, his nostrils flared.
I raised my hands defensively and rested my palm on my chin. He was about to start speaking when “POP,” my gum made the loudest pop ever. I flinched and the rest of the class did too, when he slammed the book on the desk, causing papers to fly on the floor.
“Hallway, now!” his jaw was clenched as I stood up and walked painfully slow to the door, that was until I literally yanked into the hallway. He slammed the door shut and looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Who do you think you are?” he said trying to control his breathing as he ran a hand angrily through his curls.
“Well, I think I’m Juliet Summers. Youhno, your student?”
He looked at me suddenly; his eyes softened a little, “This isn’t you.”
I raised an eyebrow and crossed my hands on my chest, “you don’t know me.”
He shook his head as he whispered, “but I do.”
I scoffed, “oh so you know me? I might be mistaken, but I’ve had your class since yesterday and we only had a conversation yesterday and barley that.”
His eyes met mine, “I know about your mother.” My eyes nearly popped out of my head. “Your mother died of breast cancer and your little brother dies yesterday of leukemia. Don’t think just because I don’t know you personally, I haven’t got into your files.” He took a deep breath and continued, “I know that in freshman year you were one popular girl, but then at the dance you were raped. He said you forced him and from then on, everyone hated you.”
I was breathing heavily. No one as supposed to know about my mum or brother, my teacher especially. “Stop, please.” I whisper as the memories flash before my eyes. He continued talking as I put my hands in front of my eyes. “Stop” I mumble. “Please stop,” the tears were streaming down my face as I imagined the night of our dance.
His face in mine, his breath tickling my face, the pain, and the crying. “Please, please, please, please.” My back was sliding down the wall and my body was shaking. Suddenly two strong arms picked me up bridal style.
The air outside made me cry harder. A car door slammed and I was drawn into someone’s chest, crying my eyes out, the memories unbearable. Mr. Styles kissed my forehead and whispered comforting things in my eyes as I continued to call in his chest.
It didn’t cross my mind at the moment of how wrong this was. Me… in the arms of my engaged teacher’s car.
8/31/13