Chapter Seven
"Get me the phone." I spat the words through clenched teeth, growling deep in my chest. "I'm not staying here with... him." My blue eyes hard hardened to granite, a sure sign that I was beyond mad. The small dialated pupils had been surrounded by a ring of silver-blue ice that was frozen into shards of a glacier. Hisses of hidden waves of concealed rage trickled from my set jaw. My hands lay at my sides, clenched so tightly the knuckes had gone white. I could feel my heart racing and blood pounding through every vein in my body. I nearly had un uncontrollable urge to bare my teech and chew on warm, soft flesh. My entire body was clenched and rigid as I stood in the center of Flea's room, glaring at her and ordering the phone from Starr. It was Saturday morning, exactly 13 hours from our time of arraival at Flea's dad's house. Everything about me indicated that I was ready and willing to kill someone, and that was only hint to how I felt.
"What for?" Flea's voice held an uncertain tone. She took another half-step away from me and gave me a look of socked fear. Her face was a touch paler than usual, and her pupils had grown wide. She sort of hunched back against the wall, looking as if she might want to be on the other side of it. Although she was taller than me, the sight of my eyes alone was enough to intimidate her. I felt another rush of anger. She knew full well why I wanted the damn phone. I guess Kiel thought it was cute when she acted like a moron.
"You know why." The words held an unusual weight, causing the room to drop into a dead silence. Only the slight sound of the computer's humm filled the beat of silence before I spoke again. "I'm calling my ride."
Just a few moments before, Kiel had called. Apparently he wasn't grounded anymore and had decided to come to Flea's dad's house. Flea was overjoyed, and immediately rushed to ask if he was allowed. Suprisingly, Colin and his dimwit friend where allowed to intrude on an otherwise peacful weekend. And I though I was (finally) going to have a weekend with Flea... away from Kiel. I guess the boyfriend factor is much higher than the best friend factor.
Funny. I always thought it was the other way around.
Her lower lip quivered slightly as she worked out what it was that she'd do. Her eyes searched the room around her, almost as if she was hoping the fairy-and-flower wallpaper would give her some sort of guidance. Finally, a spark lit in her eyes, and I could almost see the lightbulb flicker into action above her head. I guessed she had come to a conclusion. "What problem do you have with him, anyway?"
"I have no problem with him. It's you who's the problem. Whenever he's around you turn into a giggling little blonde. What the fuck happened to the old Falicia? The one that would never even think about letting some guy control her life. The one that wouldn't forget about her best friend's existence so she would go make out with her boyfriend? All you do anymore is obsess over him! Like he's some sort of God. Like he's the only person that matters anymore. You don't even care what happens to your best friends. You wouldn't care if we both committed suicide right before your eyes! All you do care about is making out with your beloved Kiel."
"I... uh... I do not!" Brilliant comback on her part.
"You're just like on of those senseless drones that we used to make fun of. The little bubbling blondes who only talk on their little cell phones and act like sluts around any guy who will give them a second look. Gawd! I mean, you don't even spend time with us anymore. All you do is make out with Kiel. I'll be suprised if you don't end up with a child at the end of all this... this... bullshit." I was screaming at her now, my uncontrollable rage taking over my body. But I didn' care. In a twisted way it felt sort of good to finally tell her what I thought. "Taylor doesn't even go over to your house anymore because of you two! You're disgusting! And you always pretend to be oh-so concerned about everyone else. You think that if you ditch the only two people who care about you, and then spit out an apology at us, it will make everything better. Well, honey, it doesn't. And if you want to prounce around like a little fru-fru, then go right ahead. But leave us the fuck out of it. We're fucking sick and tired of having to deal with you."
That's when things got scary. Even now I don't remember much about what happened, except what Starr has told me. The way she saw it, Flea and I lunged for eachother at once, growling and spewing obcinities. My right fist connected with her jaw, and her left foot hit me in the stomache. The blow knocked me to the floor. I lay on the floor, and Flea began to repeatedly hit me. She continued to pummel my face into the ground, until Starr managed to pull her off. When she checked me out, I was already unconcious.