🙆🏼👽|| April 28th, 1990 ||👽🙆🏼
The next two weeks flew by. Marshall and I had hung out on many different occasions, and soon got acquainted with a close friendship. We talked a lot in our classes, nearly every time getting in trouble for making too much noise and laughing too loud.
It was a complete surprise on how likable Marshall was. From what I had heard around school he was practically nothing. But here I was, beginning to become best friends with him.
As I stepped out of my trailer to head to school, I saw Marshall waiting for me at the bottom of my porch steps. "What're you doing here?" I asked, startled by his appearance.
"You wanna skip school today?" he proposed.
"Yeah. Sure," I shrugged nonchalantly. "Where are we going?"
"What about Proofs house?" he suggested. "He's in the car."
He had told me about Proof– well, DeShaun, but his 'rap name' was Big Proof or Derty Harry, but he preferred Proof more. They were really close from what I was told. Marshall explained to me about how they made a little pact with some of their other friends for what they're hoping is their future rap career. They also have a rap group– not band– called Dirty Dozen. Or D12 for short.
"Okay," I nodded. I turned around to open my door, then threw my backpack in the hallway. "Let's go," I said as I closed the door and hopped off the steps.
"Cool," Marshall said and led me over to his car.
Seeing that DeShaun was in the front, I opened the back door and started to climb in.
"Yo Proof, let her sit upfront," Marshall ordered coolly.
"What?" DeShaun exclaimed, pretty upset. "I always sit upfront."
"Exactly," Marshall chuckled. "Just get in the back."
"It's fine," I insisted.
"Nah, Proof can move," Marshall said.
"Fine," DeShaun surrendered. "For the lady."
I giggled and got out of the backseat, and the passenger side door opened. "Hey," DeShaun greeted with a cute gap-toothed smile. "I'm DeShaun, but call me Proof."
"Okay," I smiled. "I'm Amber."
"Yeah, I know. Slim here has been talkin' 'bout you nonstop," he told me, pointing to Marshall over his shoulder with a thumb.
"Slim?" I inquired. What the hell is up with them and names?
"Slim Shady. Like my 'Proof', but for him," he explained shortly.
"Oh," I nodded, not completely understanding.
He got into the back while I got into the front. As soon as I closed the door, Marshall sped off. He pressed onto the stereo, and hip hop music blared through the speakers. He tapped his fingers to the beat, and Proof leaned over to me from behind my seat. "You like rap?" he asked.
"Yes," I nodded. "I like LL the most, though."
"Fuck yeah!" Marshall yelled through the music. "I told you Proof!" he exclaimed and glanced back at Proof.
"Whatever. Should I just tell her everything else you've told me about her?" Proof asked Marshall, raising his eyebrows.
Marshall glared hard back at him. "Man, don't."
"What?" I chuckled. "What'd he say about me?" I asked Proof.
"He told me you're hot and–" he started, but Marshall turned around and slapped the side of his head. "What the fuck, man?!"
