Four bad boys, Ayden, Hayden, Brayden, and Okayden, try to form a school club to learn how to fight their bad boy instincts, or succumb to cliches trying.
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When Ayden's six-pack ap...
I didn't want to stay in school any longer. As soon as I finished my conversation with Lee, I power-walked back home. I didn't want to speak to Hayden, or anyone else for that matter. I did him and the rest dirty by saying mean stuff about them. All I need is to relax, sit back, and just think.
And think I did. I think.
Honestly, I don't know what to do anymore. On one hand, my life has been somewhat...interesting, to say the least, since I met Hayden, much like a category 5 storm is a refreshing breeze on a dank summer evening. On the other hand, a soda, because I like to drink something fizzy when I'm thinking.
What are my options? What Lee says is partially true: maybe, because we are together, I'm acting as an anchor to their most destructive desires, keeping them safe from headbutting an iceberg. They are a ship in this analogy, if you haven't picked up on that yet. A relation-ship of friendship.
But staying with them would be suicide. This book has 35 chapters spanning only 5 days of shit that happened to me because I was around a couple of weirdos. If I stay with them, I'm not sure I'll be able to graduate. I might be able to keep them at bay...but we are bound to burn down the school at some point.
Staying with Lee and joining the student council would be the wisest choice, on paper. But paper is not a reliable method of communication in this digital age, so I don't trust it. Or her, for that matter. Not only is she my PCL, but there is something else inside her. Something dark, and bad, and hateful, like a tiny little badger shitting on his tiny little badger bed.
The third option is to walk away from both, stick to the original plan. Which, while tempting, I would prefer to put a toothpick under my big toe and punt a football, barefoot, as hard as I can. I can't deal with this curse anymore, and as crazy as it sounds, sticking around Hayden and Brayden has kept some of the everyday bad-boy-isms at bay. I haven't seen Laila or Leeland in a while. Maybe Hayden's plan has some sort of logical semblance to it.
I'm between a rock, a hard place, and a 20-inch dildo. Anywhere I chose to go, I'm going to get fucked. I just have to choose the one that hurts the least.
And if I have to get fucked, might as well let it be with friends.
The die has been cast. I've crossed the Rubicon. My enchis have been ladas'ed. Operation club is a go.
May God have mercy on my soul.
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Come Monday — a full week since I first set foot on this wretched hellhole I call High School — and I'm feeling optimistic. Which is a pretty weird word once you take a good look at it. If I say "ocularly mystifying," it should be the same, but that's what a weirdo does, and I ain't one.
The first thing I see as soon as I reach the school is a black van pulling over. Out of it comes Brayden, looking vacant and dumbstruck, as always. The only difference is that he's slightly more tanned now. He's wearing a shell necklace and sunglasses. Strike that, he's wearing 3D glasses.
