Rumors. Well At least your spreading something besides your legs.
I still couldn't believe my mom had forced us to move, like WTF?
Since My sister ,Aris, was transferring there to finish off her Journalist\writing course we all had to go with her.
Petal didn't mind it because she could be with boyfriend more, and while Mars wished her younger sister well...she could not stand the idea of moving.
To Elite High no less. Petal had gotten into some fancy genius school, and Mars had to start her senior year at a school that every high-school student knew for it's bitchy girls and hot ( major ass-holes, trust me peeps) guys.
That brought her to her current dilemma, walking into the pretty looking school or turning around and going home.
It wasn't that she was scared, just that people ruined her new year's revolution. No cussing and no breaking nose's or new nose-jobs.
She sighed and shoved her Aviator's sunglasses on.
Here goes nothing.
I was the type who liked to just lay out like a stoner and do nothing.
The PE teacher didn't like that.
"NEW GIRL GET UP AND MOVE!"
I got up and laid down in another area.
I sat up, my eye-brows raised. "SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET BACK TO FUCKING COACHING!"
He blinked. Then I blinked.
We both looked at the extremely pissed guy holding a foot-ball, the coach blinked and I cocked my head, interested at this boy's...blatant display of fuck-the-worldliness.
Then he turned those gorgeous gold eyes on me and smirked, "Stop panting and get the hell outta here."
"Oh," I said fluttering my eyelashes, "I wasn't panting darling, just merely ogling your obvious insecure self and how sad and pathetic your testosterone-ran personality is."
I dusted off my basket-ball shorts and pretended to look pitying, "Maybe you should stop letting barbies give you crappy BJ's, lord knows your mean ass needs something besides looks to get into a good college, 'cause lets face it. Your personality sucks ass."
He looked shocked and then angry, "What the fuck did you just say to me you flat-chested-"
"Chill out," I said with a mock-understanding look, "We understand that you have a tiny penis problem, and I'm sure your boyfriend hardly minds it."
"What gives you the right to talk to Dash that way you slut!" A girl with bright red hair screeched at me. I pretended to think, " A personality I didn't get from mean girls or the back of a barbie box."
She had a 'Mhmm... what?' look on her face and my annoyance grew like a horny guy at a porn-star convention.
"Your a generic, label-whore," I explained, "You conform instead of being yourself. Unless I'm wrong and your truly a fake bitch down to your Gucci-toting core."
The coach was laughing (weird right) and he patted me on the back, " I like you new girl," He chuckled a little before patting my back again, "but I'll have to write you and Dash up."
I shrugged, "Detentions not new bro."