The Wilde Ones

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I Have A Boyfriend

I admit that I seem out of control, but that is just my act for now. Anything to let me go back to California.

I know what Caroline does to things she doesn't want anymore: she leaves them. No doubt that if I'm bad enough, she'll leave me again.

I make it to the reception desk where the student manning it silently hands over my timetable and locker combination, avoiding eye contact with me.

Oh, right, the blood. I forgot.

After leaving reception, I contemplate cleaning it.

I mean, it is gross to have someone else's blood on you, but then again, it is having the desired effect on the people of this school.

It makes them cower in fear, something I think would be a little more difficult without the blood. Even just the jacket can't hide the fact I am a small blonde who doesn't look one bit intimidating.

I decide, as disgusting as it is, to leave the blood on there, and just wear a grimace. I want people to think I'm grimacing about life, however in fact it's just my jacket. And the fact it reminds me of Axel.

Finding my class, I make sure to arrive well after the bell, even though I received my timetable earlier on. Bursting through the door, all eyes fall on me, but I glare at the teacher, who gives me a wary nod before gesturing to the empty seat at the back.

I ignore every glance I get and slouch down into my seat, taking out a notepad and pen to scribble notes, or to just doodle. I hadn't planned to slack on my education though, so I just have to seem not interested in the class whilst discreetly taking notes.

Once leaving class, I stroll casually into the cafeteria and take a seat on an empty table with an apple. I need to be a loner. I figure it looks better for my new image. Axel always kept his group small and then mostly hung out with me solely. We were all each other needed, so he said. Thus, it would just be us on a table alone if we ate in the cafeteria.

Wow. Now out of all of it, I can really see what happened and how I got pulled in. I can't believe I gave him another chance.

I don't feel very hungry, and haven't been eating well since Kai and Matt left. I eat apples a lot of the time, but it's usually because I stuff my face at one particular meal time a day.

Suddenly, I'm ambushed by several trays as they slam to the table and a group of guys huddled around. I notice Scott trailing behind them, as if he wants to be part of their little gang.

All of them look tough, or that's what they want you to think. Their clothes are similar to Scott's but they each hold a more dominating presence, especially a particular guy. He reminds me of Axel, and when I first met him. This guy has the same hazel eyes and messy black hair, looks to be the leader of the others.

Don't look intimidated, Alex. They're playing too. They're just little kids who would cry to their mommies if someone stood against them.

"You're sitting at our table," one of the guys growls, staring at me like I've grown two heads for even sitting here.

I think they are seniors, the stereotypical bad boys you keep away from here. Which explains why this table was empty and no other table was. Everyone keeps away from this lot, I guess, but this is exactly what I need. To fall in with the worst crowd.

"Okay..." I reply nonchalantly, raising my eyebrows at them.

The leader eyes me. I watch his lips turn up slightly as he checks me out.

"So fuck off, sophomore," Scott counters and they all slightly turn their heads to him before averting back to me.

The leader then takes a seat at the table, the seat opposite me, and I guess that allows the others to sit on the table too as they all seat themselves down. Scott is left without a seat and I can't help smirk as he stands.

"Sophomore?" the leader questions, looking at me, then glancing at Scott.

"She's my stepsister, Alex," Scott declares and the leader looks back at me.

"Who are you?" I ask, acting as if I don't give a fuck.

"Trevor," he states bluntly. He turns back to Scott. "You didn't mention you had a hot stepsister."

Trevor looks kind of pissed at Scott, which makes me curious. I guess they think he's a try-hard like me, cliche bad boy. But, like he is pretending, I am too, although I know that I am, and I'm not sure Scott does.

"Just met her a week or so ago." Trevor turns back to me. I wonder why everyone else remains so silent. It's like the only person who can speak is Trevor until he asks someone a question.

"It's usually quite disrespectful to sit at our table. Usually I wouldn't allow it. But here you are, and here I am doing nothing about it. Tell me why," he orders.

I'm a little confused. He wants me to tell him why he is doing something. Surely he knows that, and if he doesn't, how the hell would I know? But I act like nothing he says phases me.

"Maybe you're all talk." My reply makes him smirk a little which surprises me.

"Says the girl trying to be a rebel."

"Who says I'm trying?" I counter.

"You were head cheerleader in your old school," Scott adds and Trevor scoffs loudly, raising his eyebrows at me.

"Fuck, a cheerleader? Really? Now who's all talk," Trevor says, chuckling. I roll my eyes and lean back in my seat.

"Before that, I was an addict and a party girl. The cheerleading was me trying something new out, and it wasn't working so I went back to not giving a fuck," I reply, taking a bite of my apple.

"Leave," he says and I look up, thinking of a retort when I realize he hadn't said it to me, but his friends. They all leave happily, and although Scott appears very reluctant to leave, he too joins them.

"All you have to do it utter one word, huh?" I ask with a scoff and a playful smirk.

"Yeah, because I intimidate everyone here. I'm a fighter, I crush my opponents within a few seconds. Everyone here knows that, knows I have a temper, and they choose to do whatever the fuck I tell them to do," he explains, his hazel orbs boring into mine. "You're not scared, though."

"No, I'm not. I've met plenty of people like you. So many that I'm done with meeting more."

"Your stepbrother Scott is not like me."

"Didn't say he was. Scott's a wimp trying to act all brooding and tough." To this, he smirks, nodding a little in agreement.

"There's blood on your jacket," he states, a smirk still on his face as he assess me.

"I know. Who's going to be intimidated by a small blonde girl if I don't have someone else's blood on me?"

"Whose?" he inquires.

"Some guy's. It doesn't matter."

"Come out with me tonight, to a fight," he suggests, more like a, order than a request.

"I will, to watch the violence. But I have a boyfriend."

"Boyfriend? Dump him. He's not worth your time," he retorts.

"My boyfriend's a fighter too. In California."

"California? Long distance? You now live with Scott and his family. Why?"

"They forced me to," I answer.

"Forced you? Why?"

"He is my brother's best friend and I was living with both my brother and his best friend." This makes him slyly grin.

"Maybe you really are a bad girl."

Maybe I am.

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