She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part II)

Disclaimer

The following is one of many installments for a story designed specifically for my blog.  While it does step out of my usual genre, there are some things still not suitable for a younger audience.  Violent/Graphic descriptions, strong language and sexual situations may be found through different sections.  If this isn’t your cup of tea, then avoid these excerpts and hopefully I’ll see you around my other posts!

There were some punches thrown.  There were also some taken as well.  When it was over, the two bullies stood triumphantly over him as he lay bleeding and barely conscious on the ground.

“Tommy, that’s enough!  Leave him alone!”

He had curled into the fetal position, so it was difficult to see who was talking, but there could be no mistaking the melodic chords of Misty Vandiver.  The most popular girl in their class, she could have any boy she wanted and it was at this exact moment she was stopping hers from putting Scott in the hospital.

Tommy leaned down and grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling his head up and backward, effectively exposing his neck.  As Misty continued to scream at him from somewhere just out of sight, Tommy put his mouth next to his ear and whispered;

“You better listen to me, you little creep.  I don’t want to see your pimply ghost face looking at my girl again, you got it?  If I ever see you making eyes on her again, I’ll make sure next time there’s no one around to stop me.”

Tommy slammed his head into the ground, punctuating his threat with a resounding finality before letting him go.

“Damn it Tommy, can’t you just let it go?  He didn’t mean anything by it…”

She stepped up behind him and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“Besides,” she whined.  “I’m booored!  Let’s go for a ride!”

“Yeah, sure thing baby.  I’m finished here anyway.”

Scott watched them through his fingers.  His hands had been covering his face protectively since Tommy had first attacked him and there they had remained.  Despite the warning he had just received, his eyes roamed up the naked legs of the Redbird’s head cheerleader.

The skin was tight, well toned from years of track, volleyball and most recently, cheerleading.  It was no secret that both of her parents were in the military and that they pushed her to ‘be all she could be’.

The seconds stretched by agonizingly slow as his eyes continued upward to the edge of her skirt.  He cursed himself inwardly for perving on her so soon after having received a beating from her boyfriend, but he couldn’t stop himself.  His teenage hormones forced his eyes further up her legs, to the holy grail of every boy’s fantasy.

And there it was, the source of inspiration for every future one on fun session he would have for the next several weeks.

Then, just like that, the moment was over.  Tommy and Misty were walking toward the parking lot with their arms around each other.  While his walk was straight and arrogant, she hopped gaily at his side, her legs crisscrossing in front of each other, and when they reached the edge of the sidewalk, she looked once over her shoulder and smiled brightly in his direction as she chewed on the tip of her index finger.

His cheeks flushed, embarrassed by the playful look she had given him.  Had she known where he had been looking, he wondered?  His face had been behind his hands, but in his excitement, he hadn’t been hiding the fact of where his eyes were looking.

He stood on shaky legs and brushed his jeans off.  His body ached where he had taken his beating.  Tommy had punched him several times on his side and stomach while B.J. held his arms from behind. When he had swooned from the injuries, they had both taken turns kicking him about the legs, back and stomach until Tommy had climbed atop him and given him his final message.

“Asshole,” he muttered.

He rubbed the back of his head gingerly as he inspected the most recent injury.  He winced from the pain but was relieved when he didn’t find any blood.

“Hey, I saw what happened.  You okay?”

As he was bending down to gather his things, he looked over as Arnie Jameson approached.  Arnie, short for Arnold, was more of a reject than he was, but not by much. Barely over five foot, and so thin that even the slightest breeze threatened to topple him over, Arnie was every bit the poster boy for bullied school kids.

He made the mistake of looking up into his pimply face, giving the kid all the fuel he needed to attach himself to him until they had to be back in class.  He sighed.

“Great…  Things just keep getting better.”

“I’m sorry,” Arnie asked.  He had apparently not heard him.  Too bad, maybe he would have taken the hint.

“I said; never better.”

“Oh.”  He stood a couple of feet away from Scott, shifting his weight back and forth.

Scott felt a surge of irritation rising up within him when he realized that the other wasn’t going to help him pick up his things.

“Are you going to help me or what?”

“Oh, sure!”  He started gathering Scott’s papers while the latter finished getting his books together.  “You know?  Someday, someone’s gonna really hand it to him if he’s not careful.”

“Yeah…  I’d pay to see that,” he murmured.

“Say, you sure are lucky!”

Scott turned to him with an incredulous look on his face.

“How the hell do you figure that?!”

“You uh… I mean…”

“What, Arnie?  You mean, what?”

“You know…  From where you were laying…”

Scott knew what he was talking about.  The image was burned into his retinas.  He would have dream after wet dream thinking about the soft curves behind those hot pink garments.

“Goddamn, Arnie!  What are you, some kind of pervert or something?  Jesus…”  The words flew out of his mouth before he could catch himself.  After all, wasn’t it just a few moments before that he was positioning his fingers so that he could better see around them?

Arnie blushed, his eyes immediately downcast.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Yeah, whatever Arnie.  You keep telling yourself that.”

“You know what, Scott?  Fudge you, okay.  I was just trying to be friendly, you know?  I thought…”

“You thought what, Arnie?  That because you and I have now had our asses stomped by Tommy that we were suddenly gonna be pals?  Oh, and ‘Fudge you’?  Really?  What are you, in middle school or something?  I believe the term is; Fuck you, Arnie.”

He snatched his homework papers out of Arnie’s hand and brushed past him as he walked back to the commons area.

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