“Catching the eye of Mr. I Go To Parties In My Gym Clothes, she grimaced a little and looked away. The girl wouldn’t vocally voice her opinions of Brock and what he was wearing to him. Ales would probably whisper it into Blair or Shay’s ear later on.”

“Bitches here, perras there. Fatima still had yet to get used to the idea that, as opposed to what it had been in her homeland, Perras was not necessarily a bad word here; apparently, friends told that to each other in the daily basis. Weird that one was, but Constanza had come to learn that it all depended on the tone of voice people used. Zoe, for instance, was always calling them bitches. At first she’d been scandalized and just about to go to complain to the coach when Blair murmured to her that it was perfectly common for Zoe and lot of people to do that.

It was still weird, though, and while she knew better know, a small frown made its way to her smooth forehead. “Qué?” Snapped the girl distractedly to her brother. “Ya deja de molestar, and have some respect. I’m older than you.” Feeling triumphant and confident she had won that argument, Fátima jumped to her feet and touched her ponytail, checking to see if the orange and black ribbons she’d tied around her ponytail were still there.

Running. Fátima didn’t really mind running all that much; it kept her in shape, and it was slightly liberating. Granted, she ran with both Alessandra and Blair, which slowed her down because they were both considerably shorter than Fátima’s five feet, ten inches tall, but that was alright; it wasn’t like this was a competencia.

Snickering to herself at Paco’s comment, for she was certain only she and her sisters had caught it, Fátima sprinted after Blair and Alessandra - though not before seeing the Felicity girl walk in, with her ass hanging out. Niña tonta, Felicity Maize was. Who wanted to show off their ass to the entire school? Well, not entirely school, but it might as well have been that way - there were cellphones around, and that junior boy, Carver, was hanging around the gym.

Fátima was sure that boy was capable of taking a picture of Felicity’s exposed butt cheek and send it to the entire school. She shuddered as if it were her own ass showing, but quickly shoved that thought away. It was easy to do such a thing when Blair was making comentarios estúpidos in front of Alessandra. Or just making them all.

“Brock,” breathed the girl, her expression turning lofty, “is alright.” Uh-huh. What was the phrase American girls had? It reminded her of salsa and how spicy it was…. Yeah. Hot. That was it. Hot.

Brock Sterling was hot. And insanely so.”

“Standing on the grounds, watching a girl run was not one of the things that had entered his mind when Jonathan had though of skipping. Yet, he knew there was a reason as to why he was still here. He was waiting on a moment when he could pounce, free of her judgmental and all knowing friends. Girl’s like Edita Happenstance weren’t normally Carson’s type. They required too much effort and rarely lead to anything. Going for the easy one’s were quick, and he got what he wanted with almost no effort.

Happenstance innocence intrigued him though. She was smart enough to know that he wasn’t someone who could be trusted yet; she was the type who would give him a chance. He knew it, and because of that she would be his new project. He wanted her, and Carson always got what he wanted. If that meant having to change-or act like he changed so be it, acting wasn’t hard. Pushing his hands into his disgustingly ugly uniform pocket, Carson’s eye’s remained glued on the tall girl.

She seemed to have everything in sync, as if she were a robot. Her legs quickened her pace as her breath grew shorter. It was only a matter of-there.

“Hey.” He licked his lips as Edita sat down. Perfect, it was as if god had answered his prayers. God did love beautiful people so it made absolute sense. “On a washroom break, I needed a break from learning?” He replied as he seat down on the bench. Fuck the washroom break. He wasn’t going back. Jonathan raised an eyebrow as she said he was creepy. “Sorry? Is athleticism not allowed to be admired? Or do you just think I’m a low profile serial killer?” He didn’t like sports (except for cheerleading because he was amazing at that), but Edita looked more than hot doing them.

“I came out here to get some fresh air, your running was amazing, just stopped to watch. Sorry, if you didn’t want to see me here.” He shrugged, yeah he was kissing her ass but that would be alright. He’d get what he want.”

“Frankie was glad the awkward emotional moment was over. However, Frankie was also glad that Eddie had done a bang up job of handling it and had made her laugh again. “Yeah, only two. Dieting.” She patted her stomach and then took a breath, all while listening to her friend speak about weight gain, mother problems and boobs.

Speaking of boobs, Eddie totally had gained some, Frankie noticed. “You DO have BOOBS. Man. I wish I’d gain boobs. all I get is THIS.” The red-haired girl leaned down and jiggled her slightly rounder thigh. “Always on my thighs. Or my butt. It’s wobbly again.” she said, smacking it and frowning a little at the offending, jiggly buttock.

Turning her attention to Eddie again, Frankie curiously eyed her friends new additions. “Boobs must be nice.” She sighed after a moment and then cupped her own stubbornly a cup boobs.”

“Mari was what some might call an expert in reading boys. Most boys anyway. There were some Payton that would forever elude her grasp of understanding so she ignored their existence for the most part. Then there were the rest, and Oakley, while easily read, was not just another boy. Mari had a soft spot for boys like him, boys with musical talents and Oakley was highly talented as well as deliciously hot. She lamented that she’d wasted time on Cayden when she could have been spending quality time with Oakley.

Lesson learned. “

“They all stank of skank. They were looking for a stoning. Quentin could be stoned too if you asked Edita. Making a face as she dragged Frankie past the crowd of people in the yard, Happenstance tap-tapped her best friend’s forehead with one long finger. “Quentin Monroe Jackson is a DICK. I should know. I dated him.”

Forget that their date wasn’t strictly a real date but—still. Edita could say it and be within her right to judge.”

“What the hell are you even afraid of?

Cathe went to parties. Ben partied all the time. She, Landon and Pennie had checked out that one party on the beach. Granted, that’s when Pennie stopped talking to them… but November knew this wouldn’t happen. As if Hadley would stop talking to her, puh! And with Hadley and Landon there with her, November wouldn’t have to feel like a total Magikarp out of water. As long as she had people around her, she wouldn’t be that weird kid sitting in the corner by themselves.

All the same, her pretentious bitchy side yelled at her. It told her she was caving and that she was acting just like the rest of them. And no matter how hard she tried to ignore that voice, it was loud. Really loud.

In the end, she changed into a pair of jeans, donned a t-shirt and gave her hair a fluff. She pushed Zane from her mind and her nerves from her mind and tried to internally smother her bitchy, pretentious voice.”

Hadley MacLean about CATHERINE LEIGH FLETCHER

“Catherine had a dirty filthy mouth. Hadley sort of, probably, loved it. Mostly because it contrasted with her delicate elven like features so much it rocked the poor thespian’s world. He turned mid-step, grasping November by the wrist as he walked backwards. MacLean aimed a crooked grin at Cathe. “You can invade—” he started, a perverted shine possessing his eyes. Hadley pursed his lips instead, swallowing back the rest of his deviant words.

Cathe was a taken woman now. If he said Cathe baby could invade his territory whenever she wanted with or without elven staffs, surely, the emo pianist would sob and pitch a fit and graffiti Hadley a new ass in the form of classical music or something.

How eternally boring.”

“If allowing flushes to take over your face was a sport played at the Olympics, Cordelia was quite certain that Dominic Ellington would represent the United States and would most likely bring the gold medal. Cordelia wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not, in all honesty, for mostly weak people were the ones prone to blush with frequency, but Dominic Ellington was certainly not… a weak individual, was he not?

Cordelia fixed her ice blue gaze on him. If he was, she’d have to re-consider their  friendship, then. She could hardly be seen spending time with weak and unimportant folk, and she could hardly make him her charity case - that was Maddelynn’s position in Cordelia’s life, after all.”

” “Right. Cute… short, blond! Got it.” He repeated after Cathe, grinning and giving a nod. Landon was not surprised, no way. Music like this - well it always played around Hadley and Catherine. The sad thing was Landon had lost the count of times Hadley and Catherine had corrected him. It was always some God or Goddess he hadn’t heard of - or didn’t know much of. Landon had taught himself to resist the urge to roll his eyes, every single time. Instead, he grinned - like right now.”