Chapter 3: Let The Revenge Games Begin

I sit absent mindlessly, carelessly twirling a lock of hair around my finger. My chin is firmly wedged onto my palm, my wrist having gone dead about half an hour ago – fifteen minutes into Mr Withershaw’s detailed analysis on the use of oxymorons. The English teacher’s white moustache hangs proudly under his crooked nose whilst his round stomach tries its best to pop the tiny white buttons off his green shirt one by one. The little hair he has is standing up right as if he has been severely electrocuted and the frame of his glasses have evidently been taped back together with Sellotape. I slump further down in my seat and start tapping my pen in time to the ticking of the seconds hand on the clock. An annoying sound for anyone, however, upon looking around my class its clear to see I am not the only one tapping my pen out of boredom.

The door to the classroom swings open with a cringe worthy squeak. Glad to receive a break from the monotonous lecture I stare down at my book where a collection of flower doodles is beginning to mount in the corner of the page.

"I got transferred to this class."

The male voice catches my attention instantly and my eyes snap up to see Satan's child standing casually in the doorway. The sleeves of his black V neck jumper are rolled to his elbows and he quickly becomes magnet for every single pair of eyes in the room. I look beside me to see an empty chair. My heart drops as far as the basement of the school.

"And why is that Mr Rossa?" Mr Withershaw asks in a hoarse voice.

"Well wouldn't you like to know," Alex retaliates, crossing his arms with a smirk. "Now can I come in? Or would you prefer me to continue standing here,” he pauses, “Sir.”

A look of shock flashes across Mr Withershaw’s face before he manages to recollect himself.

"Thank you for being so entertaining Mr Rossa. Do we have a spare seat?" He begins to scan the room.

I bend my head down and cross my fingers under the table that he doesn't choose the currently vacant seat by myself.

"There is a seat by Miss Steele."

I make no attempt to hide my dismay as I slump, defeated in my chair.

"So, onto Juxtapositions," Mr Withershaw carries on his lesson regardless of the lack of attention students are paying him. Before, everyone had their eyes on the clock at the front of the room, now, everyone is fixated on the latest class member.

Alex slides carelessly into the seat next to me and crosses his arms looking directly ahead. Having previously enjoyed the extra room being the only one sat at a table provides, I slowly begin to move my stationary from Alex’s half.

"Are you going to get your book out or do you not fancy joining the lesson today?" I hiss quietly, so not to be heard.

"Why should I make notes on this lesson when all of the information is on the internet?" Alex replies with a bemused smile, “Besides, it really looks like it’s been a riveting lesson with the amounts of notes that you have made,” he nods towards my floral creation. The familiar feeling of heat begins to rise in my cheeks.

“I suppose that’s fair,” I manage begrudgingly.

“You see Princess, even you agree with me,” He beams smugly, taking one of my pens and spinning it between his fingers.

“Seriously, what is it with you and taking other people’s things,” I whisper yanking my pen back out of his hand.

"Be careful Princess, people might start to think you care about me getting that close," he leans towards me the caramel flecks in his dark eyes glinting with laughter.

"Well a Cinderella would care for her prince,” I begin, deciding to play Alex at his own game, “And I suppose you did declare that I am in fact your Cinderella.”

Alex sits back, slightly startled by my comment.

"I was drunk."

"And I had to forcibly remove you from my house!”

“Which wasn’t very nice of you,” He retaliated, his confidence rising once more, “You know some girls would have been much kinder to me, maybe helped me, got me water.” Alex widens his eyes, “But no, not Rowan, she just throws poor Alex out.”

I roll my eyes at the ludicracy of his words, “You are being a jerk.”

“Girls love a jerk,” He responds quickly.

I go to argue back when a cough from the front of the classroom interrupts. My eyes follow the source to find Mr Withershaw staring straight back at us.

"Is something the matter?" He asks. His nose twitching with irritation.

"No sir.”

"Alex?"

The boy’s shoulders shrug as he shakes his head and folds his arms.

The bell goes before Mr Withershaw can further question us and everyone begins shove things in their respective bags. Throwing my book and pencil case into the disorderly chaos that is the inside of my bag I swing my satchel over my shoulder keen to make a swift escape.

"If I didn't know any better I would say you were trying to get away from me princess," Alex whispers in my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

"Wow you are reading me like a book today Mr Rossa," I say sarcastically, making my way through the maze of tables to the exit

"So we are on surname terms?"

"And we will never become closer than that," I quip, not bothering to turn around and face Rossa before I leave the room.

I make my way down the corridor towards Hannah's and mine lockers. When I reach my destination, Hannah isn’t here yet. Carelessly, I throw my bag into my locker.

"Did I or did I not hear that Alex Russo just moved into your English Lit class?" I shut the door of my locker to reveal Hannah's face.

"Yes."

"And did I or did I not hear that you two are sitting next to each other?"

"Yes."

"And did I or did I not hear that you were a terrible flirt but that he wasn’t interested?"

"Yes," I say automatically before processing what she had said "Wait. What?"

"The girls of this school suck," Hannah sighs and gives me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Your life may as well be over from this day forth, you are singularly the most hated school"

"Thank you Hannah,” I reply sarcastically, “I can always rely on you to make me feel better and really show things in a positive light.”

"You are welcome," she chirps as we begin to make our way to the canteen.

*

“Sometimes it genuinely scares me what you constitute as a healthy meal,” Hannah laughs shaking her head with disbelief at me.

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Having a plate of chips for lunch," Hannah points her fork accusingly at me before thrusting the spikes of her cutlery towards my meal.

"I would like to correct that statement, it is in fact a plate of salt and vinegar chips."

"That is even worse," Hannah looks at me with a mix despair and amusement.

"Thanks for the chip," I feel hot breath on my ear and I squirm to get as far away as possible from the owner of the voice. Alex is standing behind me. He goes on to reach over my shoulder for another one of my chips. His cheek is practically touching mine and just the closeness is making my skin crawl as if I were covered in lice.

"Hey!" I exclaim as he retracts his hand with a chip in his grasp.

"What's up Princess?"

"That is my chip," I reply glaring at him, “I thought we had spoken about you taking things that aren’t yours.”

"But, now it is mine," he shrugs and takes a bite.

Liam and Spencer stand behind Alex with amused expressions fixated onto their faces.

“Alex I don’t know about you but I am exhausted today so I don’t know how you have the energy to persevere with whatever game you are playing.”

“The thing is, Miss Steele,” he finishes the rest of the chip, “When a game is this fun it manages to distract you from the exhaustion.”

Rage swelling in my stomach I feel myself losing my cool.

"Well seem as you love chips so much, and what's mine is yours, have all of them." I shove the plate into his hard-muscled chest and hear with satisfaction the squishing of chips into his uniform. Quickly, I turn round and walk away with speed. Not only have I suddenly got the attention of the whole school, again, but I am eager to get away from Alex, not knowing what his retaliation will be.

Only now I am out of the room do I regret my actions. Not for shoving the chips into Alex's chest, but for losing my chips, especially to a poor cause such as Rossa. In a desperate attempt to escape a possible Alex behind me, I turn the corner and push open the door saying, "girls’ toilets."

I tap my feet nervously against the floor as I am on my own stood on the opposite side of the room to the huddle of girls. With no Hannah, and not actually using the toilet I am a fish out of water. I spend the time studying the unsightly shade of lilac they had decided to fit the bathroom out with. The harsh yellow lighting doesn’t help the situation. Graffiti is scrawled all up the walls in different variants of sharpies. To pass the time I begin to read some of it.

I sigh with relief as the bell finally rings signalling the end of lunch and freeing me from the love hearts with couple’s name in who almost certainly no longer speak to each other. Swinging the door open I step out.

"Row, where have you been?" Hannah shoots me a quizzical look from across the corridor as she spots me. Her eyes flicker behind me and read the sign outside the door. "You didn't."

"I did."

"Going in there is like putting your cut leg in a tank full of hungry sharks," Hannah exclaims, her blue eyes wide. "Are you mental or trying to get your leg purposely eaten by sharks?"

Feeling better as soon as I’m back in contact with Hannah I let out a giggle.

"I am worried about your sudden obsession with sharks," I retaliate.

"And the whole school is worried about yours with Alex," Hannah says smartly with a wry smile.

"Ouch.”

"I’m just saying,” she sings nudging her shoulder into mine in a gesture of sympathy.

"Remind me to never open my door to anyone ever again," I mutter before the bell rings.

*

I stand, freezing on the school field, watching the football being passed between the players. The tiny hot pants, barely cover my butt, let alone my legs that are gradually turning blue. The whistle blares in my ears every two seconds for various fouls, goals, and every time Miss Audrey wanted you to move. I stand with my arms crossed in front of me in a sore attempt to stay warm, walking a couple steps every time she specifically tells me to move.

I watch as the ball flies through the air like a soaring bird and lands in front of Hannah. She looks shocked at this happening as we are both equally as bad as each other at sport. For one of us to receive the ball is nothing short of a miracle. Hannah turns to face me and my stomach begins to churn. She takes a run up and kicks the ball with some force in my direction. I try my best to steady myself, ready for the ball to come to me.

A burst of pain flares in my nose as the ball finds its target. I am knocked backwards by the force of the impact and find myself on my back. Red warm liquid runs freely down my face.

"Shit," I mumble as I scoop my hands round my nose.

"Oh my god Rowan," Hannah cries, racing over to my aid. I sit up, cradling my injured nose.

"Rowan are you okay?" Miss Audrey asks as a circle of people begin to form around me.

"I’ve been better," I reply sarcastically, "Maybe like one of the times I haven't been peeing blood out of my nose."

She gives a chuckle at my comment, "Hannah can you take Rowan to the nurse and get her cleaned up?"

Nodding her head wildly Hannah begins to stride with purpose on the field, somewhat forgetting her patient.

"Wait up Han," I shout, any movement in the facial area creating a sharp pain ricocheting through my face.

"I really am sorry Row," she says coming back looking at me mess of a face.

I grunt some sort of response in order to limit facial movement to let her know that she’s forgiven. She loops her arm round mine and practically begins skipping.

"On the bright side your hair is tied up in a pony so none of the blood has got on it," she chirps.

"Yay," I make a feeble attempt to punch into the air unenthusiastically. Sarcasm drips off my every word.

*

"How is your nose?" Hannah asks for the umpteenth time. I sit cross legged on my bed with my phone by my knee on speaker. Hannah and I have been chatting for over an hour, and most of that time has been her asking about my sporting injury. After stuffing my nose full of tissues we had finally been able to get the flow of blood to stop, and, after excessive use of baby wipes we had been able to wash off most of the blood.

"If you ask that one more time honest to god I will end this call”

"Too bad Rosa couldn't see," Hannah sighs, referring to the fact Rosa had closed the cafe this afternoon due to some emergency she had.

"I would have scared away the customers with this beauty anyway," I say whilst fumbling with my phone to set my music on to shuffle.

"You'd scare them anyway with your normal face," Hannah teases.

"Ha. Ha," I reply dryly, "You are just the funniest person I know."

All of a sudden “Highway to Hell” by AC/DC starts to blare through my speakers.

"Is that?" Hannah asks from the phone.

"Highway to Hell," I yell jumping off my bed. I find myself bouncing around madly whilst I belt out the lyrics. Letting myself completely loose I find an air guitar coming out of me alongside the lawn mower dance move. The song ends and I bow down to my wonderful non-existent audience, out of breath and sweating.

"Wow," Hannah says, clapping.

"I know," I wheeze.

My phone rings and lights up with a new message. I pick it up and scan read the text. My eyebrows furrow with confusion.

I think Instagram really enjoyed that – A : Unknown number.

Looking out of my window I see Alex’s smirk gleaming back at me, his phone being waved in my direction. How did he get my number? Going back to my phone I quickly open up Instagram and will it to go faster.

"Rowan?"

Coming out of my thoughts and back to reality I realise I have been blanking Hannah this whole time.

"Yup?" I reply, my attention on the screen and not particularly talking to her. My news feed pops up and I see the tiny notification button. With bated breath I click on it.

Alex Poole tagged you in a video.

Opening up the tagged post I watch in horror as the video depicts myself dancing and singing to Highway to Hell. Dragging my eyes from the video itself I read the caption.

“Entertainment straight from my room, what a beautiful dancer.

Let the revenge games begin.