Lights slithered over the dance floor, sliding over the bodies of sweaty teenagers who really couldn't dance. The music was typical rave music, the type that you couldn't sing too but you could jump to the beat of. There was a mini bar where the office of the PE hall normally was, Rosie expected alcohol, but it was only diluted squash. Teachers hovered on the sides, but none of them were really paying attention to the teenagers.
Freya squinted into the crowd, searching for one of her friends at least. She felt hands on her waist and a chest pressing against. She felt her whole-body tense.
"Don't you look lovely?" Jonathan said against her neck. "Who's your friend?" He asked, his blue eyes examining Rosie. His eyes lingered over her bumps and curves, and especially over her long legs.
Rosie, on the other hand, was evaluating Jonathan. She saw Freya's behaviour against him, she saw her tense shoulders, the fear written across her face. Rosie looked at the size of Jonathan, he wasn't majorly bigger than she was. He was about 5'9, whereas she was 5'7. His eyes were the same shade of blue as hers, his face was chiselled, if she was honest she wondered why Freya wasn't proud of herself.
"Rosie," She said, crossing her arms over her chest. "The pleasure is yours." Her eyes fell on Freya. She knew that she was a delicate girl, it made her want to watch over her as the night continued. Rosie stood at the side, not knowing anyone or wanting to mingle with teenage kids that didn't understand life. Even though she was seventeen, Rosie understood the responsibility of being an adult, she'd only been a foster child for two years, she'd helped her mother raise her sister without the help of her alcoholic father. Rosie would watch her mother cry, helpless, purely because her mother was too afraid to leave her dad.
After awkwardly dancing with Jonathan for what felt like an eternity, he asked Freya to go outside with him. Needing the fresh air, she blindly followed.
Jonathan pressed Freya against the wall, one hand on her waist and the other by her head. His breath smelt of alcohol, his hair was a mess and his eyes-they were distant, as if he wasn't completely there. As if his soul was gone. Freya refused to look up, it was like being held paralysed by the devil himself. She breathed shakily, but Jonathan hardly noticed. He leant forward, dipping his head down to press his lips against hers.
Freya panicked.
She didn't know what to do.
She hated the taste of his mouth against hers, it made her sick to the core.
She felt his slimy tongue slip into her mouth without consent. The hand from her waist moved down, tucking into her skirt. She cried out when she felt him touch her lower regions. Their mouths pulled apart, only for his to be placed on her neck. His lips felt rough against her delicate skin.
"Jonathan!" Freya yelped, hitting her fists off his chest. But after all, she was a slim 5'1 girl compared to a 5'9 guy who worked out. "Get off!" She screamed, feeling his hand grab her breast.
"Hey, punk, I think she said 'get off', so back the hell up right now." Freya turned her head and saw Rosie walking over, her eyebrow raised as usual. Her face was harder than it normally was, she truly looked pissed off. "Not gonna get off? Well I was going to let you get away without getting hurt, but nevermind." Rosie's hand grabbed a firm grip of his shirt and launched him back.
Freya breathed out, shaking violently from head to toe, she looked away from Rosie.
Rosie punched Jonathan once, knowing that he probably didn't know what he was doing due to his drunkenness, and kicked his staggering ass away. She looked at Freya, her hard face softened as she walked over. Raising her hands, she moved a lose piece of hair away from Freya's closed eyes. She moved her hands down, only for her wrists to be held by small, shaking hands. She lifted her eyes from Freya's undone blouse.
Freya was staring at her, she didn't look scared anymore, "Don't."
"I was going to button it up," Rosie kept her voice laced with a soft tone, a voice that Freya hadn't heard before. "That's all."
Freya looked down, losing her hands. Rosie buttoned up her shirt and lifted her skirt slightly so that it was more around her hips. Rosie sighed softly and lifted Freya's chin, "What've I done to you? Why're you ignoring me?"
Freya took a deep breath, "It's just something my mum said."
Rosie's eyebrows drew together with confusion, "What did she say?"
"That you were a lesbian." Freya mumbled.
Rosie's face hardened quicker than anything, she stepped away from Freya, "Great, you're one of them too. You're a critic. What? Going to tell me that you're homophobic? Go ahead, call me queer, call me a dyke, call me whatever the hell you want! I've heard it all."
"I-I didn't know how to act around you once I knew, Rose. Please, I felt...intimidated."
"Intimidated? What kind of girl do you think I am?! What? Did you think I'd rape you or something? Hell no! I have ethics! If I'm such a bad person, why did I just stop your friend from sexually assaulting you?"
"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry! Will you please just drop it? I know how to act now, okay?" Freya said.
Rosie looked away, "C'mon, I'll walk you home, Pipsqueak."
YOU ARE READING
Pipsqueak (BEING EDITED)
Romance|ORIGINALLY TITLED THE BAD GIRL CALLS ME PIPSQUEAK| Rosie was a tall girl; her hair was dark brown and fell short by her ears in a scruffy pixie cut. She had a black beanie hat on her head and dark red lipstick on her lips. She was wearing black, r...
