(I Just) Died In Your Arms ~ Stanley Uris

016

Julia's POV

Sundays were supposed to be fun, spending it amongst your friends or enjoying it in the quarry to cool off from the hot summer sun.

Instead, I was shoving cow shit at Hanlon's farm.

The sweat inducing, sticky heat could even make the strongest struggle, their bodies loosing so much water than it was hard for them to even function. I still persevered, trying my best not to collapse in the piles of cattle feces I had collected out in the pasture, placing them into a wheel barrow and into a waiting tractor. Leroy would use it for compost, so they didn't throw it away.

Mike called me this morning and asked politely if I would help out at his farm. I didn't care though, Bill was finishing his homework whilst Bev was moving into her new apartment with her aunt, so we didn't really have plans for this weekend. It was only Sunday, so probably we'd all sporadically hang out during this week, resorting again to the quarry to cool off. The temperature was nearing 110 degrees today.

If it wasn't for Mike, I'd be stressing all day about Cynthia being mad at me. Yesterday her and I were riding our bikes when she had a panic attack, whilst Bowers' gang was chasing us and making us a target. Blech got on top of me freaked me out. He was so close to hurting me I had to fight him off...

"I...I think I'm having a panic attack." Cynthia confesses, her breathing short and shallow. There was no clear reason why, but she slowed her bike down, even though the two bullies were gaining up on us. They were furious that I've been finally standing up for myself whenever they tried to make a mockery of our group.

I was panicking, unsure if we should stop or keep going. If we stopped the they would catch up to us and hurt us. Bad.

"Do you want to go on my bike?" I asked swiftly, running to her side and rubbed her back soothingly. I knew very well about panic attacks, having quite a few myself. I knew she wanted to stop and take a break, but we just couldn't.

Cynthia shook her head, trying to hop over the seat on her bicycle, swinging her right leg over it. Instead, she collapsed the ground, fainting from all the stress she was feeling. Victor and Belch were coming, but I wasn't going to run. I shook her shoulders, calling out her name, expecting her to wake up so we could run. When that plan failed, I tried lifting her the way Stan carried me, my right arm under the crook of her knees, my left supporting her upper back.

I could barely get off the ground before one of the Bowers' gang members pushed me face first into the asphalt, forcing me to drop Cynthia back to the ground. I heard cars, cars filled with people who completely ignored us.

"Hey, whore." Belch said it like a curse, like I deserved every mean name he called me. My bottom was pressed against the pavement, his hand sliding under the small of my back, holding me as if I was HIS slut.

"Wanna come home with me?" Victor teased, watching Belch touch me as I was squirming under his grasp wanting to get away from him. I looked beyond them to see Cynthia start to stir, hoping she'd get up and get him off of me.

"Did you go with Beverly when she enjoyed some with Henry?" Belch taunts, grabbing my hands to prevent me from squirming. All I could think about was how his hands felt like my dads, and how he smelled of the same beer my dad drinks.

"Get off me!" I cried, kicking him away with my combat boots. It only knocked him off a little, sending him barely a few inches backwards. Still, I was free, and kept on fighting them away from my unconscious friend, who wasn't able to defend herself.

I kicked and screamed until a passing by friend ran up to help. Richie. I had kicked the two so hard they were rolling around on the pavement, clutching their junk in agony.