Classroom: Act 2

Chapter

1

“Today is Sunday, December 30th, 2018. I am here with Narron Fuller, one of the survivors of the Hottentots-Holland High Massacre. It’s been two months since the killings occurred, claiming the lives of ten students, the janitor and the teacher, leaving behind sixteen of their classmates to pick up the pieces. Now I’ve interviewed a few of the other survivors, but most of them didn’t want to talk about what happened; I’m glad you came.”

“Of course,” she answered Neill, crossing her legs to sit more comfortably. “I have to tell the story of how it really happened before reporters and stupid journalists with nothing to do start making shit up.”

Neill inched the microphone closer to Narron and gave her a smile, implying her to speak a little louder. She breathed in and then out, giving him an awkward toothy smile. “Here goes,” she said, trying to keep the beating of her heart as calm as her mind was.

“Our teacher since Grade 8, Mrs. Geldenhuys, decided that we should have a slumber party at school seeing as we were nearing our last year in high school. Almost the entire school agreed, but some of the students had other plans that night. We all gathered at the back of the school near the Activity Centre where we were gonna stay. Sorry, I’m actually a bit forward now.

“It was during that day that two of our classmates, Shaariq Majid and Uzair Cupido, had gotten into a fight. No one knew exactly what caused the fight, which was also one of the main reasons a few of us decided to come to this slumber party to see if shit was gonna go down.

“Anyway, during the first few hours we settled in and played a game of truth or dare that ended with us going outside after someone, I can’t remember now, dared Veandre to ride the lawnmower. Mrs. Geldenhuys was okay with this, of course, but the moment the dare was played out and had gotten funnier, Shaariq arrived unannounced. We all thought he wouldn’t come, and he did.

“Everyone was a bit on edge, waiting for Uzair and him to go and finish what they started. But, to our surprise, the two were pretty cool. I mean, our class had a history of fights that were resolved and forgiven within a day. When we were in Grade 8, Shaariq fought with this other kid in our class, Zurial, who literally choked him. The next day, the two were laughing like buddies again. Sorry, I got a little sidetracked there.”

“No, it’s okay,” Neill told her, handing her the glass of water she seemed to have forgotten. She thanked him and took a sip. After her throat and mouth were moist again, she continued.

“After eating, or during eating I don’t know, we all watched a movie when the power suddenly turned off. It was raining that night, so we all thought that maybe the storm had caused it. Mrs. Geldenhuys told us to wait inside the Activity Centre while she went to look at it even though Reef, the janitor, was there.

“After a few minutes of telling scary stories, the power went back on. We waited for about an hour and a half and Ma’am had still not returned yet.

“Mischka and Veandre were worried like crazy, so I decided to lighten everyone up by opening the bottle of wine I brought with. Some kids decided to go and hang out in the school while Ma’am was gone and Mischka and Veandre wanted to go and see what was taking Ma’am. Later on, they got a message from Ma’am saying that she quickly went home for an emergency or something and would return within a few hours.”

“Was Uzair in the Activity Centre or did he leave with everyone else to venture the school?” Neill asked her. Narron froze and looked at him. He stared at her with curious eyes, waiting for her to answer him.

Narron thought she was going to be strong enough to answer all his questions and tell the whole story, but now telling it just made her relive it all over again. No, she thought. People needed to know what really happened to them before stories were told of what DIDN’T happen.

“Uhm … Yes, he was … He left with his friends to venture the school,” Narron said, slowly moving her fingers to her mouth when she realized she was nearing the incident of that night.

“While I was busy getting drunk and smoking some hookah with the rest of the class, the others who were outside came to get us about an hour after. They told us someone had stabbed Uzair seven times with a scissors and left him bleeding a carpet of blood down the stairs beside my old Physics teacher Mr. de Vos’ class. At first I didn’t believe them, but when I saw the look of sheer terror in the eyes of the witnesses, I knew shit was real.

“Teswill was freaking out when we wanted to alert the police. He was scared he’d go back to jail or something. Out of fear, one of our classmates, Daylon, suggested we pin on Reef: say we left when Ma’am took too long to come back and Reef took his chance when Uzair was the last one waiting for his lift to arrive. That plan didn’t work out when Teswill suggested we get rid of the body.

“Many of them agreed to help him seeing as he spoke fear into their hearts, telling them they’d end up going to jail for murder or whatnot. Those who opposed just waited for them to clean up everything and get it over with.”

“So they got rid of the body, then?” Neill asked her. Narron sighed, disappointed, and nodded. “They buried Uzair’s body, along with all the blood-soaked shit they used to clean the mess up with, at the back of the hockey field.” she told him. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

Neill gave her a smile and gently nodded. He was playing with a pen in between his fingers that he had no intention of using at all which irritated Narron a bit.

“To be honest, I’m not really interested in what happened before the murders,” he confessed to her, still flicking the pen back and forth. “I actually want to know more about … you know … Dollface.”

The name, just like the story, made Narron’s throat dry again. “Andrea Stevens, you mean?” she asked, calling the killer by their real name. “Yah, turns out Uzair and Shaariq were fighting over the quiet girl in our class. Shit, we barely even noticed she was there ’cause she always kept to herself.

“Shaariq and she plotted to kill Uzair seeing as he was a problem in their little relationship. This ended up with them wanting to blame it on Mrs. Geldenhuys, but when the whole class interfered by getting rid of Uzair’s body, their plan was jeopardized.

“They exchanged this costume, a cloak with boots and a creepy cracked doll mask used in the theatre productions, and they planned on killing us all and STILL blaming it on Ma’am. Then Andrea surprised us by killing Shaariq and letting him take the fall for her. She had an alibi, so if she killed us all she’d be in the clear.

“All that happened AFTER the two of them chased us around the school like a cat chasing a mouse, killing us off one by one, unlocking all the classrooms and locking the gates. They made up their own sick and twisted game of hide-and-seek.”

“And you survived,” Neill said, once again smiling at her. “The killer, Andrea, survived and is now awaiting trial. Rumour has it that they’re gonna send her to the electric chair. This is actually the first time South Africa’s had a teenage serial killer.”

“I hope they put her on the electric chair.” Narron said, her fear and nervousness devoured by anger. “She killed my friends; kids I’ve grown to tolerate and love for the past four years. What’s worse is that she wanted us to go down with her.”

“But look at you now; outside of jail.” Neill said as he gently clapped his hands together.

“Yah,” she said, bringing up a genuine smile. “You know, I was actually terrified when Andrea said we were gonna down with her for getting rid of the evidence, but thank God Amy Hartzenberg had made a recording of her confessing to what she did. They said she psychologically manipulated us into doing her dirt work for her. Bitch, I hope she really does die.”

There was a short moment of silence before Neill asked his next question, slightly revolving around what happened.

“I understand that most of the survivors aren’t coming to school next year,” he said, readying himself for another story. “Why is that? Is it because of the psychological trauma they faced or because they fear it might happen again?”

“I think both,” Narron said, hugging herself when she suddenly got cold even though it was a warm day. “Literally only five of us are coming back for the first term. Mischka Hindley, Luken Groenewald, Matthew Adams, Veandre Raubenheimer and I are returning. The others, even the ones who weren’t there, decided they’re coming in the second term.”

“So does that mean you five are gonna be mixed with another class or something?”

“We’re gonna be mixed with the English class,” Narron told him. “It’ll only be for the first term. Besides, most parents don’t want their kids returning to H.H.H. because it’s ‘unsafe’. To be honest, I still get a few nightmares about what happened that night. My doctor says that it’s normal, but what the fuck does he know? Mischka and Shakiya Eksteen decided to create this group-chat for our class where we counselled ourselves.

“It worked for a few days before a lot of them left the group because it brought back bad memories.”

“Looks like that night left a scar, eh?”

“Yah,” Narron said, looking down at the wooden table that separated her from Neill who sat across from her. “What scares me more than going back to school is how everyone else is gonna react to us. Many of the English kids already don’t like us because we’re the A-class; we have a reputation.

“Some aren’t as bitchy, but most are. The principal himself hand-picked ten kids from the English class to join us as the new A-class for the first term. Luckily it’s our senior year so no one really gives a shit. By 2020 we’ll be graduates looking for jobs at supermarkets ’cause not all of us going to college.”

“What about you?” Neill asked, suddenly changing the topic from her class to just her. “Are you gonna go to college?”

Narron froze at his question, never actually wondering about it herself. She always talked about what she wanted to be, but now she had suddenly forgotten. “You know,” she said, slowly shaking her head. “I really don’t know.”

Neill breathed out slowly through his nostrils and leaned in to turn off the microphone. “Thank you for your time,” he told her. “When you come back next time, our listeners want to ask you some questions.”

Narron smiled and nodded. Neill gave her a wink and turned the microphone off.

Aaliyah Railoun came to pick her up after the interview. She was busy fixing her curly black hair in the mirror, pouting ever so slightly to make her round nose match the cute expression on her face. Narron came out and climbed into the Mini-Cooper.

“What are you doing?” she asked Aaliyah, resting back against the seat and waited to be taken anywhere but home where she’d be watched like a hawk and asked a billion times, ‘Are you okay?’. “I’m prepping myself,” said Aaliyah closing the mirror and sitting back just like Narron. “I have a date tonight,”

“Oooh, who is he?” Narron asked, moving her eyebrows up and down. “He’s just some guy I met last week,” Aaliyah said, trying not to act as if it wasn’t a big deal. “I’m actually thinking of taking him to Cayden’s party tomorrow.”

“You mean the New Year’s one?” Narron asked as the two of them began to click in their seatbelts. “Oh please, Penny could not throw a party to save his life.”

“Don’t be such a sourpuss,” Aaliyah said as she drove out of the parking. “Penny wants tomorrow to be about what happened this year. Don’t forget that he was a part of our class, too.” “Yah, until Chad and he failed Grade 9.” Narron reminded Aaliyah as they drove down the road to the nearest coffee shop.

“Cayden just wants to prove that he cares by throwing a party? Yah, what a memorial service!”

“At least he’s trying to acknowledge their deaths,” Aaliyah said. “Most of the class don’t even want to talk about what happened, which pisses me off because the killer — Andrea — started calling me! I actually witnessed her killing Reef right outside the main office at the front of the school.”

“Okay, can we actually stop talking about this?” Narron asked, a little bit serious. “I just came from talking about it. Don\t make me listen to what you experienced.”

“Sorry Narron, but we all gotta face the reality that half our class was killed along with our favourite teacher.” Aaliyah said. “Oh yah,” Narron said, staring out through the windscreen. “Then why aren’t you coming back at the beginning of first term, huh?”

Aaliyah said nothing. She just bit her lower-lip and turned a corner on a busy street so as to distract Narron from asking more unanswerable questions. But Narron had a point, though. Here she was telling her friend to accept the fact that ten kids they knew for four years were killed, when in reality she still couldn’t get over the shock.

People were playing music on the streets. Trumpets and trombones, drums and tambourines, singers and dancers were all parading, ready for the New Year.

“I wonder if Cayden’s party’s gonna be like this, too.” Narron said, realizing both Aaliyah and she wanted to change the subject to something a little les dreary. “His last party wasn’t that grand, though,” Aaliyah confessed. “I mean, his DJ-ing was outstanding, so was the food and drinks, but he invited a bunch of jerks.

“There was this one guy that left school in Grade 9 and tried to grope a few girls. Penny did nothing about it because they were his people.”

“Yah, he better not invite more jerks like that.” Narron said, gazing out the window at the people in exotic outfits as they all seemed to be practicing for the next day and giving the audience a free sample of what they were to expect.

Aaliyah parked the Mini-Cooper in front of Mug & Bean and the two climbed out into the warm and sunny day. There wasn’t a breeze to be felt. Streaks of clouds were distant in the pale-blue sky and added beauty to the blazing sun. Narron pulled back her long russet-coloured hair and shoved her hands into the pockets of the white jeans she wore with a black T-shirt to match.

Aaliyah was dressed in some sweatpants and a cropped-shirt that showed the light purple belly-ring glistening in the rays of sunlight. “Let’s go,” she said when she saw Narron standing still and waiting for her to make a move.

The two walked inside Mug & Bean and were greeted with the mouth-watering smell of coffee and coffee beans, Nespresso and cappuchino, all while listening to the chattering of people and the crunching sound of croissants and bread being torn and eaten. The more they walked in, the more the coffee smell sweetened by the aroma of the cakes and tarts in display by the counter in front with their prices written in chalk on the small black boards. The whole place was a bit dark with its brown and black walls, picture-frames of coffee beans and steaming cups hammered to them. A few people sat around the few tables, talking nonstop and enjoying themselves.

Narron and Aaliyah walked up to the counter to just place an order; they weren’t going to stay. “What’ll it be?” the waiter by the counter asked, her nametag SUZIE.

“My friend here’ll have a Marocchino and I’ll have a Bicerin, please.” Aaliyah said, taking a look down at the cakes. “We’d also like some scones and donuts, thanks.” “Comin’ right up,” Suzie said and disappeared to the back.

Narron leaned against the glass counter and noticed a few of the customers sitting down looking at them and then whispering to each other, still looking at the two of them. She breathed in slowly and already knew what they were talking about.

Aaliyah noticed what Narron was seeing and rolled her eyes in irritation. “Ignore them,” she told her friend. “They have nothing better to do with their lives so now they’re talking about ours.”

“It’s not that they’re talking about us,” Narron said, turning from her side and leaning with her back against the glass. “The fact that they’re spawning their own variations of what happened that night just pisses me off. It’s like we’re some kind of topic they can just talk about, laugh about, gossip about, as if they were there to experience it themselves,”

“It’ll blow over soon,” Aaliyah said. She had her elbows rested on the counter and waited for them to finish with their orders. “In South Africa there’ll always be something worse happening. I bet you by tomorrow they’ll have forgotten because there’s a raid going on, or something like. Either way, what I’m saying is that these people are dogs: they go for the bigger piece. Pretty soon we’ll be something of the past.”

“But I don’t want us to be something of the past,” Narron said, groaning the moment she said it. “I want the kids who died to be remembered for what they did and what really happened, not because they died by the blade of a high-schooled Bonnie and Clyde.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about this anymore,” Aaliyah said, turning to Narron with a smile. Narron returned the smile and faced the customers again. They’d all turned away from the girls and continued talking about their days and whatever.

Suzie returned with their two coffees and two brown bags with their cakes in it. “Thank you,” Aaliyah said, taking out her wallet and handing the waiter her credit card. After they finished, the two of them climbed into the Mini-Cooper and drove off, trying to find ways to waste time and not go home where they’d be supervised for the rest of the day.

As hours passed like seconds, it had turned to night.

Mischka Hindley was in their white bathtub, surrounded by white and grey tiles. The water filled up half the bathtub looked murky. Small waves moved her reflection but didn’t take it away. She sat with her arms wrapped around her legs, her chin resting on her knees and her thighs pressed against her chest.

Her long and silky black hair was wet and fell down her scalp, her shoulders and back. Her brown eyes stared deep into the murky water and all it reflected.

She didn’t know how long she’d been in the tub, but she knew it must have been long because the warm water had gone cold and her fingers were wrinkled. Her parents were still at work, but at least she had her cousin Chad and his girlfriend Shireen for company.

The more she looked down at the murky water, the more she began to reminisce about what happened.

Every time she closed her eyes, she could see the blood, hear the screams, and she could clearly still remember the distorted voice Andrea and Shaariq used to hide theirs, giving Dollface his very own voice.

She still had nightmares about that night. Dollface was still haunting her. Andrea and Shaariq had invented their own killer. Even though they were both gone, Dollface was still a reminder. People felt it was exciting that South Africa had a masked serial killer, almost like Scream and Halloween, so people began selling Dollface masks.

Kids started wearing them and scared each other. It was like what happened was just something they could make money out of. Whatever, she thought. Yelling at them wouldn’t bring clarity at all.

A week after the murders, the whole of Strand held a candle lighting ceremony for the people who died that night. They all went to the school’s auditorium where photos of everyone who died were displayed on the stage.

Uzair Cupido, Farren Titus, Lucia Du Toit, Aqhamile Mcknchu, Tracey-Lee Titus, Teswill Anderson, Duaine Allies, William Alexander, Gabriel Sas, Daylon Jacobs, Mrs. Geldenhuys and Reef. There was a huge fight if they should have put Shaariq’s picture up, but the parents won and he wasn’t showed.

Shaariq’s parents came, but not Andrea’s parents. They were right to do so, because when Shaariq’s parents went onstage to give off a speech, apologizing for what their son had don, parents began going crazy, yelling at the two parents and asking them if they knew how to raise a child.

After a few seconds of arguing and crying, they were all quiet again. Their very own Mr. Fair gave off a prayer as they lit their candles, sobbing loudly and hugging each other. Mischka could not take it for one more second and left the auditorium to stand outside. The school was dark, but she didn’t care anymore. She stood in the Grade 8 Quad just to get a breather.

When she thought she was alone, she jumped when someone beside her cleared their throat. Scared and fumbling with her phone, Mischka turned on her flashlight and shone it into Zahir’s face. “God, it’s just you,” she said, breathing out with relief.

Zahir was one of the kids hand-picked to be in the new A-class. He gave Mischka a slight smile on his thin lips, making her blush ever so slightly. He had a light-brown complexion with flat black hair put in waves over his head.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked him, still keeping the flashlight on them both. “My mom thought it’d be good for us to support the kids that died by coming to this candle lighting thing tonight.” he told her, leaning against the brick wall.

“Your mom, or you?” Mischka asked. He gave her a look and then sighed heavily. Then he suddenly sobbed and hid his eyes with his hand. “It just ain’t fair,” he said. “Why did they have to die? Why did she have to die?”

Mischka slowly took the flashlight away from Zahir and turned it off. She knew he didn’t want her to see him crying. Not actually knowing what to do, Mischka did the next best thing and walked over to Zahir and wrapped her arms around him.

“I’m actually supposed to be hugging you,” he said, resting his face on her shoulder. “We all miss them,” Mischka said, fighting off the tears that suddenly wanted to fall down her cheeks. “But I never really considered how their deaths would affect everyone else at school.”

“I really miss her,” Zahir said. Mischka could feel his tears absorbed into her shirt and warming her skin. “I miss her, too.” she said, letting go of the tears. “At least she isn’t here to pick up the pieces like we are. I don’t think she’d be able to deal with it.” “I really wish she was, though,” he said, slowly taking his head out from her shoulder and walking out of her arms to wipe away the tears. “Maybe I could have helped her cope, and even told her how I felt.”

“I bet Lucia would have felt the same,” Mischka said, hoping it’d help sooth him. He sniffed and gave her another smile which was hard to see in the dark. She smiled too, and was glad she could bring some comfort to him. Her smile slowly faded when she wondered who’d do the same to her.

Closing her eyes, Mischka stretched out her whole body and sank under the murky water, her hair floating all around her. Maybe she was like Lucia. Maybe she wasn’t capable of picking up the pieces, too. Maybe she’d get cut or splinters would enter her skin. Either way, she just couldn’t do it on her own.

What if she were dead? Dead people didn’t have to pick up pieces or go through the aftermath of situations. Maybe it’d be better if she were dead, too.

It didn’t take long for her to realize how stupid that sounded. She pushed her head out of the water when her lungs began to burn and screamed for oxygen. She gasped in a breath of air and sat upright, wiping off the murky water from her face.

Mischka sat there for the longest time, silently sobbing and crying as the tears rolled down her moist face. She was glad the water was an excuse for when someone asked if it were tears streaming down her cheeks.

After a few minutes of crying, she climbed out of the tub and dried herself with the towel. She got dressed in her pyjamas and left the bathroom, closing the door behind her and headed downstairs where Chad and Shireen were seated on the couch, Shireen resting on his shoulder.

It was weird how Chad was her nephew considering they were the same age, but his mother was Mischka’s sister. To make things a little less awkward, she always said he was her cousin. Chad had a head of wavy black locks, a handsome face and a skinny body. He was a comedian in class, but a bit quiet at home seeing as there wasn’t much of an audience. Shireen had short black hair and was shorter than both Chad and Mischka. She was built well and had a fit body with a warm smile. “Hey, Mischka, you okay?” Shireen asked when she saw her.

Mischka was confused but then realized Shireen probably saw the redness of her eyes that she had been crying. “Yah, I’m okay,” Mischka said, joining them in the living room but she sat on the couch opposite theirs.

They were watching a movie she wasn’t familiar with, but when she saw a few recognizable characters she knew it was a comedy. The three of them watched the movie in silent before they were interrupted by the shatter of a window upstairs.

Mischka cried out and looked up at the ceiling, her heart racing rapidly. “What was that?” Shireen asked, also looking up at the ceiling. “Stay here,” Chad told them, standing up off the couch and put on his slippers.

“Should I call the police?” Mischka said, slowly beginning to hyperventilate. “No, I don’t think that’s necessary.” Chad said as he came to the stairs and made his way up the steps. “Please be careful, Chad!” Mischka yelled after him.

He ignored her and walked into the upstairs corridor. Shireen turned down the volume to hear what was happening upstairs, but instead of hearing what was happening upstairs, she heard Mischka’s rapid breathing.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Shireen said, hurrying over to sooth Mischka from her small panic attack. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” She looked at Shireen and saw the sincerity in the girl’s eyes and started to calm down.

“Sons of bitches!” they heard Chad yell from upstairs. As he came rushing down the stairs, he carried a brick in his hand and swore repeatedly. Shireen walked over to him and took the brick from him. Chad hurried to the front door and came outside to the cool night air. The streets were empty and he couldn’t see anyone outside of their houses. “Where the fuck are you, huh?” he yelled, anger raging through his blood. “Come out you fucking cowards!”

Inside, Shireen studied the brick and saw someone had painted a message on the front of it. Mischka stood up and peered over Shireen’s shoulder to look at the message just as Chad walked back in. “Those fuckers threw that brick through Mischka’s window.” he said as he joined them in the living room. “I swear when I find out who it is, they’re fucking dead.”

“Chad, shut up!” Shireen said when she saw he was fuelling with rage and would do something terrible if he didn’t calm down right that second.

Mischka, on the other hand, felt a deep stab of pain and hatred when she saw the message on the brick, suddenly proving her theory that death was better than picking up the pieces.

“Don’t worry about that shit, Mischka,” Chad told her, taking the brick out of Shireen’s hands and planned to get rid of it and clean up the shards of windows before her parents came home. “They’re just fuckups,”

“Yah, I know,” she said, swallowing heavily as tears formed in her eyes. “They’re just fuckups who think I should have died instead of the other person,”

Chapter

2

Malory Perry had her eyes closed and cried out in delight as Avontey Michels feasted on her. They were in her bedroom with Malory’s parents downstairs. Her parents thought that maybe she was studying. Seeing as her parents were downstairs, Malory respected them and mumbled her cries by closing her mouth.

Even so she couldn’t help but at least whine. Avontey grabbed at Malory’s legs, pursing her lips and moving her tongue all around the clitoris. Gasping loudly, Malory grabbed at Avontey’s curls and used them to control her, but Avontey was already in control.

“Oh my God, yes!” Malory cried out, quickly covering her mouth before she said something far worse. Avontey enjoyed her cries of enjoyment and gently moved her right hand down to add a little fingering motion, too.

Licking her lips, Malory tried to keep herself calm, but when Avontey added her fingers she bent her back in and silently cried out, smiling broadly and giving Avontey the satisfaction that she was doing a good job.

They finished a minute after and lay on Malory’s bed, both breathing fast and heavily. “That was amazing,” Malory said. She turned to Avontey and kissed her slowly on her mouth. “You were amazing,” “Of course I was,” Avontey said, causing them both to laugh.

Malory gently placed her hand on Avontey’s cheek and stared deep into her honey-coloured eyes. Avontey stretched her hand over and moved them through Malory’s blond locks.

“Ready for round two?” she asked Malory, but Malory laughed, giving off a toothy grin. “Not today,” she said, still laughing. “Besides, you already ravaged me.” “But I haven’t even got to the best part,” Avontey said, pretending to be sad.

“We can use the cuffs when my parents aren’t here,” Malory said. “Until then, enjoy that taste in your mouth.” Avontey smiled and leaned in to kiss Malory. They kissed for a long time before Avontey slowly moved her hand down Malory, but Malory saw what she was doing and stopped her.

“Come on, I’m still horny!” Avontey said, begging. “Not today, Avontey,” Malory said. “We can continue this New Year’s Eve.” “What am I supposed to do for the next day?” Avontey asked her. “Masturbate,” Malory answered, tapping her on her nose.

Avontey rolled her eyes and rolled over, climbing off the bed and grabbed her panties off the floor. Malory saw she had hurt Avontey a little bit so she crawled over to her and began kissing her against her neck and shoulder.

“It’s getting late,” she whispered to Avontey. They looked over at the alarm clock on the bed shelf that flashed 19:57. “Yah, I guess you’re right,” Avontey said, grabbing the rest of her clothes and getting dressed.

She put on her jeans and a buttoned shirt with flower patterns on. As she put on her shoes, Malory began biting her nails and started to worry if Avontey was angry at her or not.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked, thinking it was better to ask than wonder. Avontey stopped tying her shoelaces for a second, thinking on the question, and then returned to tightening them. “No, I’m not mad,” she said, finishing with the knot. “Besides, it’d really be a shame if Garrett arrived here unannounced and saw us naked together,”

“Okay, you’re definitely mad at me,” Malory said, stating the obvious. “No shit I’m mad at you!” Avontey said, her voice rising in anger. Malory breathed out and wrapped her naked legs with the duvet they had tossed to the floor during their … session.

“You’re graduating high school next year and you’re still scared to come out to your parents and that dumbass boyfriend of yours who, I know for a fact, you’re just dating to hide the fact that you dig girls,” Avontey said, pointing at Malory.

“Sorry not everyone’s parents are as supportive as yours.” Malory said, trying to be the better person and not yell. “My parents may be supportive but they’re still a bit weirded out,” Avontey confessed. “But I don’t give a damn because I like who I am, and I am sorry, Malory, but I can’t be with someone who don’t like who they are.”

“So you’re breaking up with me?” Malory asked, giving her an accusing look. “Bitch, we were never together in the first place.” Avontey said, slowly shaking her head in disbelief.

Malory didn’t know what to say, mainly because she was hurt. But Avontey was right. “Thanks for the goodbye sex,” Avontey said, heading to the bedroom door. “But don’t you ever text me again.” She turned the doorknob slowly, hoping Malory would say something to make her stop and turn around.

She said nothing.

Disappointed, Avontey opened the bedroom door and walked out, storming angrily down the stairs. She passed through the living room where Malory’s father was watching the news and her mother was busy preparing dinner.

“Where’re you going, hon? I was hoping you’d stay for dinner?” her mother asked when she saw Avontey rushing to the front door. “Home,” Avontey said, grabbing the doorknob and turned it. But then, out of spite, she stopped and turned to Malory’s parents who were still looking at her.

“I fucked you daughter,” she said, granting them a mischievous smile. “And her pussy tastes like gum.” She left them with that, waving goodbye as she walked out the front door and slammed it shut behind her, smiling broader when she heard both Malory’s parents crying out from inside the house and running up the stairs.

Pleased with herself, Avontey skipped down the street, the sun gone and darkness covering the dark-blue sky. Fuck Malory, she thought. She still had a few other contacts. So what if they had been going on for a while and Avontey hoped Malory would become her official girlfriend? Yah, fuck that!

There were so many ripe girls for the taking. She didn’t know who the Hell Cayden was, but she was glad he invited her to his New Year’s party. There were bound to be some fresh fish for her to snatch up in her net.

Mind you, she wasn’t a slut. She was a player. Sluts were for women, she thought. Players were for guys. That’s right, people. She was bringing a new definition to Casanova. If there’s one thing Malory taught her it was that most lesbians were scared of coming out now.

It’ll be difficult getting a girlfriend when all the girls were scared to come out, but at least she’ll manage to get into their pants.