I Was Abducted

Chapter 7 Jackson

That was a hell of an assembly. That blonde girl that called me an asshole hit the floor like a bag of rocks. It slightly concerned me. But I said slightly. I wonder what all that was about.

The bell rings and everyone jumps to leave. My long legs carry me towards the door. An orange-haired douche steps in front of me. My fingers latch onto his shoulder as I push him to the side. He's wearing the school football jersey so, my assumption about him being a douche must be true.

"What the hell man?" He shouts. I roll my eyes. I hate people like him. He stepped in my way and I pushed him out of it, simple.

"I'm talking to you!" He screeches again.

"And you should really stop," I sneer back at him. He looks taken back like nobody talks to him like this.

"No, I'd like to talk more," he urges and I smirk. "Let's leave bygones being bygones?" He asks putting his hand out for me to take.

I shrug and take it. "As long as you don't cross me," I say narrowing my eyes.

"Not a problem. I'm guessing you're new here," he says more like a statement. His blue eyes beam at me like I'm his favorite person.

"Your guess would be correct," I reply turning my head sideways at his friends behind him. They all have red and black jerseys on. The one on his left has tight black curly hair and dark skin, the one on his right has light brown hair and freckles.

"What's your name?" He asks folding his arms.

"Jackson Peter, and yours?" I ask shoving my hands into my front jean pockets.

"Luke Park," he tells me grinning. The gym is still emptying, but everyone avoids knocking into us.

"And your little posse?" I question nodding in their direction.

"This is Liam Jacobs," he says looking at the curly-haired guy. "And this is Samuel Walker," he says nudging the brown-haired dude. "It was nice running into you Jackson, see you at lunch?" He asks. You're damn right you ran into me.

I shrug, walking out of the gym. It's the 5th period because of the b-day schedule I believe, and I have art. I know where it is because I saw it when I was walking to another class of mine.

I enter a classroom with windows as walls and posters of art all around. Pablo Picasso, Leonardo da Vinci, and Raphael liter the walls.

I take a stool in the back. A man in khaki pants and a dark blue v-neck stands in the front of the class. He looks like an idiot.

My eyes dart to the door as the girl that called me an asshole enters. She looks.. she.. looks beautiful. She's an interesting thing. Isn't she?

Her bright blue eyes meet my green ones and she gives me a weak smile. I return the favor with my sinister one. She pads over to the seat next to me.

"Hi," she squeaks, placing a sketchbook on the joint table in front of us.

I nod at her, earning a frown. "That's all I get?" She asks giving me a shy smile.

"What do you want me to say?" I ask scanning her pink lips.

"Maybe just a hello or, something?" She asks running her fingers through her long dirty blonde hair.

"How about I ask you why the hell you smacked the ground after your little performance." My lips tug to one side.

"Oh my god, you saw that?" She covers her face with her hands.

"Why wouldn't I?" I ask raising a brow.