The Pack Slut

Eleven- Met My Match

The pack house is a panicked mess. Everyone running around and giving orders, getting orders, doing orders.

It is exhausting to just sit back and watch it all unfold.

"Are you gonna help?" I look up from my phone to see a girl around my age with her hands on her hips as she stares down at me. Her pin straight black hair is pulled back from her face in a ponytail which accents her high cheek bones. She has the nerve to even raise her eyebrows, "well?"

"I am helping," I turn back to my phone, completely unaffected.

"How are you helping by sitting on your butt and staring at your phone?" She walks around to stand in front of me so her shadow blocks my patch of sunlight.

I grit my teeth and glare up at the girl, "I'm staying out of the way. I suggest you do the same unless you would like me to mess up that pretty little ponytail of yours."

I expected her to back down but instead she laughed, God this girl is getting on my nerves.

"Nice one, now really, grab a box and help. These decorations aren't gonna put themselves up." She continues to stand over me like she's on some almighty throne.

"You're right," I smile sweetly and stand up to meet her gaze. I have a few inches on her which pleases me. "Decorations don't have the ability to put themselves up; so, I recommend you get started."

"I know who you are, Lenora Anderson. Did you know people call you the pack slut behind your back?" Her brown eyes soften as if she actually feels bad for me.

"Sometimes, they say it to my face," I say with the same smile and offhanded tone. She continues to meet my stare like the stubborn little bitch she is.

"And you let them?" She crosses her arms across her chest and cocks her head to the side.

Is she sizing me up?

"Not without a few bruises to remember me by. Would you care for one?" I clench and unclench my fists so that I can feel my nails dig into my soft palms.

She brazenly laughs for a second time, "grab that end."

She steps back from me and picks up one end of a large cardboard box. I stare at her in shock.

Does she really think that I am gonna help her?

And then, I surprise myself. I bend down and pick up the other side.

"Drop this on me and I'll kill you for it," I grit through my teeth as I strain to hold the heavy box.

"I'd like to see you try," she snaps back. I can't respond to her smartass comment because carrying the box takes all of my focus and strains my sore shoulder.

We haul the stupid box into the dining hall where we place it on the ground and before we can even back away people are ripping it open to yank out vases.

No wonder it was so fuc—

"I'm Maika," the girl reaches out her hand for me to shake. I stare at it at then glance back to her face. "Usually, people shake it."

I roll my eyes and take her hand in mine. We hold each other's hand, testing to see who will let go first. A satisfied smirk finds its way on my face when she is the first to pull back.

"Since you already know me, why don't we just skip further introductions and fast forward through this conversation so I can get back to doing nothing and you can get back to carrying shit for other people."

"So you admit you were doing nothing?" Maika keeps up with my quick stride as I try to walk away from her. "And by the way, what we carried wasn't shit, it was a box full of antique vases."