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by Lyra
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Teen · #1541360
Something for school. Advice much appreciated.
        “See you later, Paul,” said one of the girls. There was a titter of laughter. Even as we began our departure I couldn’t help but stare at him, he looked so comical. We had tied him, with pink rope, to the soccer goals and he stood there now, struggling against his restraints, dressed in nothing but his jocks, “player” wrote across his chest in lipstick.

         It had been the perfect revenge, he had deserved it thoroughly and I couldn’t help but revel in the moment. The icing on the cake had been my idea, why save this moment in our memories when we could save it on camera forever. By this tomorrow, everyone in school would have seen the video, the wonderful advantage of the Internet. God bless Bebo. To some we might have been too harsh or over the top, but they didn’t know our story, the story that united us and allowed us to combine our shared hatred of him into a potential lethal weapon.

         For me, it had all started six months ago. I had been sitting in maths as per usual staring out the window, fixated on the dirtiest dog I had ever seen. My teacher had abruptly brought me back to reality. “Well, Ms. Smith, if you were as focused on your maths as you are on the window, then maybe you could prevent this from happening again” she said, quickly fingering through the tests in her hands and thrusting mine onto the desk in front of me. I sighed, another fail. Still at this point I was pretty used to getting such a result, it was commonplace to me now. I just didn’t get maths. I solemnly stuffed the paper into my bag as a voice said behind me “you could do better if you tried you know”. I froze, my temper flaring; I turned around sharply to stare straight at a boy by the name of Paul Sheedy. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I questioned. “Nothing” he assured “I’m just saying if you tried you’d be great at maths, you just have to believe in your own ability”. I pondered that for a moment, calming down, “I do try” I mumbled looking down at my lap, anywhere to avoid looking at him. I knew it was a total lie. Maths was beyond me so why bother. “I can help you if you like, someone as smart as you shouldn’t be worrying about maths” he offered. I opened my mouth to speak but found I couldn’t get the words out, I just sat there instead gaping like a fish out of water. I finally nodded overly enthusiastically. He laughed and just smiled at me sheepishly. I hid my face in my hands and laughed along with him.

         We met every Friday, after school sitting together in a corner of the hall. I started to pick things up; finally maths was making sense. He was a really good tutor, and he was cute too. The more we met up the less it became about maths, till one Friday we found ourselves giggling uncontrollably for forty minutes straight without having even opened a maths book.

         Eventually, I invited him to my house, I felt confident I could handle maths now. I decided it was more important for us to just spend time together as friends. At this point I’d known him for about four months, we were so alike, I’d never got on with anyone so well, least of all a guy.

         One day as we were in my room playing x-box, having just thrashed him in ‘Dynasty Warriors’, it happened. He’d said he was bored of the x-box and wanted to stop. I’d immediately teased the he was a sore loser and that he’d just hated that I was better than he was. He’d insisted that wasn’t the reason and then, as I’d open my mouth to retaliate, he’d kissed me. I’d surprised, I hadn’t known how to react it had been the last thing I’d expected but I liked it. So I’d relaxed and went with it as he’d snaked his arms around my waist and pulled me closer. It had been better than I could have ever imagined. I had almost felt the heat pouring off us, almost had tasted the love in his kiss. It had seemed to last forever, yet only seconds. I’d laughed afterwards that it had been a nice way to end the day.

         We were a couple by the next week, with one condition, I could not tell anyone about us. If his parents found out they’d be furious. They would blame me for distracting him from his schoolwork and we’d be forced to break up. I didn’t want that so I agreed. At the time I never thought on it, it wasn’t till much later that his true motive became clear.

         It’s true when they say being in love makes you unbelievably happy. How many books and films are there that express the great side of love? But it’s the dark painful side that is hidden from us. I always wondered how love could make you blind, but I was soon to find out just how blind I had been.

         I was coming home from school, enjoying the feel of the sun on my face. I’d laughed a little to myself, I had finished school an hour early and Paul had no idea. He’d had a half-day too and thought he’d be waiting for me in town for an hour. I’d imagined the smile on his face when I’d surprise him in town early. As I’d got closer to Arthur’s Quay, our usual meeting spot, I’d sped up just wanting to wrap around him so much. I’d stopped dead; my smile faltering it seemed someone had beaten me to it. There he’d been outside A.Q with his arms tight around another girl, a girl who wasn’t me. I’d been furious, upset, shocked hurt, I’d felt every emotion I could name. I hadn’t known how long my heart could take the load. I’d started to breathe erratically; I couldn’t face him, not right then. I hadn’t had it in me. I’d gone straight home on the bus fighting back the tears for the entire trip. They’d come later. I hadn’t text him back that night, I’d just ignored my phone as it had buzzed every hour or so with a message or call from him. I had never wanted to speak to him again.

         The next day in school I’d revealed all to my friends and they hadn’t taken long in informing me of Paul’s reputation. He was a player, born and bred. There had been rumours spreading around the school that he had been going out with five girls at one. Oddly enough some guys had hailed his as a kind of god. I had been amazed, I couldn’t have honestly believed I’d missed all the signs that would have warned me about him. I had just thought he’d been a genuinely nice guy, who’d wanted me and just me. I’d never realised I’d been sharing him with four other girls. I’d felt so stupid, he’s pulled the wool over my eyes and played me like a fool. My feelings for him had been real but he’d obviously felt nothing for me. My friends had supported me they didn’t want me wallowing in despair. They’d advised me to turn the pain to anger and use it against him. I couldn’t have thought of something more fitting myself.

         The first part of my plan had been to find the other girls. That hadn’t proved too difficult, everyone had seemed to know what was going on. It had convincing them that turned out to be rather hard. Two of the girls had become really upset and had thought I was playing a cruel joke on them, the other two had been closer to attacking my. I’d decided to bring them all together, face to face, they couldn’t deny the truth then.

         I’d never seen such pained faces in my life as the five of us had stood together sharing the truth with one another. We had all understood Paul’s true motive for the promise he’s asked us to make. He’d wanted to keep us quiet so we would have never found out about each other. We’d all shared an overwhelming feeling of pain and stupidity. But it had united us and had made us strong as a group. We had agreed we couldn’t let him away with it or he’d just do it all over again. He would have to learn a lesson that for every action there are consequences. Se we had formulated a plan.

         Now, as I watched him squirm, I wondered how long he would be there. I hoped it would be long enough for him to get the idea, for it to truly sink in. Or at least to keep me entertained for a while. He looked at me, pleading with his eyes, as we’d duck taped his mouth, begging me to spare him from the embarrassment. I knew as well as he did that soccer practice would be on soon. I shook my head and just smiled innocently, clutching the small bottle of tan in my hands. Oh yes, he’d been tangoed.
© Copyright 2009 Lyra (lyrafangs at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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