The Cheerleader's Side Piece

Victoria Jean(3)

After the disaster the festival was, I have been ignoring Cassie for two weeks now. She's come to my house, spammed my phone and even confronted me in school, but whenever we met face-to-face I just let her talk. Not saying a word. When she's done, I just walk away. Alex and Olivia have noticed my change in behavior, but knowing me they don't question me too hard. Today like usual, Cassie came barging into the ASB demanding I speak to her.

"Get out," Olivia said, trying to take her away.

"I want to speak to Ani," she yelled, staring at me but I keep my eyes on the stack of papers on my desk. "Ani!"

Olivia annoyed with her behavior, she yells louder, "Get out Cassidy! It's obvious that Prez doesn't want to talk to you so just leave!"

"Ani!" She shouts.

No longer wanting to disturb everyone and tired of Cassie, I pick up my things and leave through the building, which isn't allowed for non-ASB members. She yells for me but I leave without looking back. Walking through the building I come across the detention room. She wouldn't think I'd ever come close to this place so I go in to see a girl that is the definition of delinquent. Just happy there is silence, I go sit in the front.

"What's the ASB leader doing here?" The girl asks.

But I ignore her.

"What did you do? Calculate the money wrong? Or did you not do your homework for one night?" She teased, obviously she has something against ASB.

Again, I ignore her but she doesn't give up.

"I wouldn't think a goody-two-shoes like you even knew a place like this exists. Thought you would be allergic to it."

"And your name is?" I asked, annoyed at her questions and jokes. Feet propped on the desk in front of her, munching on her piece of gum loudly, she just smirks. So she's one of those people. Containing an eye roll, I simply go back to doing my work, but she has other plans.

"I'm called a lot of names," the loud clicks of her tongue gave me shivers, "baby, girlie, bitch, slut, homewrecker, whore... I've got it all."

"I've got no interest in calling you those names," I said, checking off the lists, "I only care about your real birth name."

She just chewed away, mouth open and everything. The girl was being incredibly annoying. The type of annoying I want to walk away from, but she seemed to have taken an interest in me, "Why do you care about my birth name?"

"Why would I want to call you something other than that?" I asked.

"Because names are personal."

Intrigued, I stopped and turned to her. She was rocking her head to the music that poured out of her headphones. We were opposite, complete opposites. On her neck was a tattoo of a pistol. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, but her hair was a dark purple. Heavy eyeliner and dark lipstick seemed to be her makeup style. She wore torn up band shirts, black ripped jeans with fishnets under it. Her jacket was military style and it was big on her, but all over it we're pins and patches. She was night and I was day. Me in a pinkish skirt that reached my knees, a white oversized sweater tucked in. Cute white shoes with a pink cat on it. My bangs pulled back to see my face and the rest of my hair laid on my shoulders. We were so different, yet what she just said.... is how I think.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked, flicking my forehead, "Seems that big head of yours is turning."

"Don't flick me," I muttered, rubbing the spot she hit, "and I was just thinking that... I agree. Names are personal. They tell people a lot about ourselves and well.... they give people the power."

"Power?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Yeah... they have the power to use our name however they want. To speak bad about us or good. It gives them the power," I said, thinking about how often my name is twisted and turned. "Names are important and... and powerful."

She just stared at me, trying to break me apart and piece together. We held eyes for a bit, my cheeks heating up. Reaching out her hand, she grins, "The name is V.... v for Victoria. Victoria Jean."

"Victoria Jean," I tested it out. I liked the sound of it. Taking her hand, I smile at her, "My name is Ani."

"Your full name?" She asked, "Its not fair for me to tell you but you to stay quiet."

Chuckling, I sigh, "Antonia Meryl.... middle name is Louisa if you're that curious."

"I was," she teased, "Antonia.... nice."

"No one calls me that. It's a very old name," I confess, pushing the work to the side, "so just call me Ani."

"Nah," she sat straight, hands cupped on the table so her black nail polish could be seen, "I like Antonia." Flustered... embarrassed, I just nod.

I like how she says my name.