Delinquents

Stone leans back against the trunk, one tattooed arm crossed over his chest while the other brings the cigarette to his lips. That boy is Satan's spawn with a mouth of broken glass that spit words meant to make people bleed. Being his neighbour doesn't stop me from being intimidated. Hearing him yell at his father, the crash of glass breaking… it only solidifies just how toxic he is. His dark, blue-tinted hair is shaved on the sides, leaving a messy tuff on top. Strands fall into his dark, onyx eyes. They pierce into me, sharp and unyielding. Before I was at the bottom of the food chain, I once witnessed him cutting a boy's cheek with the pocket knife he always has on him. I later found out he did it all because he was bored, and the boy was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Swallowing thickly, my gaze moves to the guy standing next to him, Haeden. Although mellow compared to Stone, he is just as scary. He glares at me with hooded, red strained eyes. His blue irises glow in the sunlight, and if he had been any other person, I would think they looked beautiful. His blonde hair ruffles in the wind, revealing the scar along his left eyebrow. With one hand shoved into his grey hoodie, the other holds a rolled and lit joint. He is where Henry gets his drugs from. From shitty reggie to cocaine. I can only guess how a highschooler can get his hands on such hardcore drugs.

Tearing my gaze away from the bad boy, my eyes land on the least scary person out of all of them, Kingston. In my eyes, he isn't as volatile. Though, I suppose I'm biased. Seeing him at church, -that is when I used to go- made him seem less bully-like and more relatable. That doesn't stop him from getting into fights, though. As far as I know, I've only seen him in two this school year. His brown hair is longer, pulled back into a small bun on the back of his head. His green eyes glimmer with the mischief that I often see in them. His lips quirk up, white teeth shining bright. Sometimes I think out of the three guys, he's the only one who smiles… and means it.

Finally, I take in the last figure there, Ivy. Although beautiful, she doesn't act like the pompous cheerleaders I'm used to. Her personality is darker and much more twisted. Her tan skin and dark hair rivals that of Kenseys pale and blonder self. She's intimidating, to say the least. She scowls at everyone and everything, adorning a leather jacket and tight jeans. For some reason, I find myself admiring her, whether it's because of her no-care attitude or because she doesn't take shit from anyone.

I wish I could throw up walls and be unaffected. Yet here I stand, with watery eyes and red paint dripping into my underwear.

Please don't attack me, I repeat in my head. I force myself to walk past them and towards the school's open gates. My body is stiff, hands shaking as I grip the backpack straps around my shoulders.

I can handle Kensey’s taunts. I can handle Lucas' and Henry's grand display of humiliation in the form of paint. I don't think I can handle Stone's mean words and sharp blade, Haeden's drug induced temper, Kingston's slick smile that only promises illusions, -because surely my biased opinion of him is way off course- or Ivy's fists that always finds their targets.

"I don't think you're supposed to wear your period!" Haeden shouts from behind me. There's a yelp of pain, and I shrink into myself, walking faster. Crap, crap, crap!

"That's not funny, dumbass," Ivy snaps back at him.

"I wasn't trying to be funny, bitch," he sneers at her.

I bite my bottom lip, and suck in a breath. Just keep going. I'm almost there.

"You smoke too much," Kingston chuckles. "You're a straight up fucking idiot if you think all that's period blood."

"Wait, isn't that the mass-murder-church girl?" Haeden asks, completely ignoring the way his friends called him stupid. I'm positive that if it were anyone else, he'd instantly hand their ass to them.

I tense up even further and walk faster.

"Fucking christ!" That comes from Stone, his deep voice is unforgettable and has me yelping in response. I can feel their collective stares on my back as I walk away, paint leading a trail behind me. I can only properly breathe again once I’ve made it outside the gates.

***

"You don't have a boyfriend yet?" Mrs. Nolt sounds appalled.

I smooth over some peanut butter on a slice of bread and glance up at her. Her pure white hair is pulled up into a messy bun at the back of her head, a few loose strands framing her aging face.

I chuckle at her, and shake my head. "Nope," I pop out. "Dad is strict when it comes to boys. He says when I turn eighteen he'll consider letting me get one, but I'm sure he'll forget he said that as soon as my birthday comes around, though." 

"Eighteen?" The older woman scoffs. "When I was your age, I had boys lining up for dates. It's always fun to go on them. It's good to tease. But never give in." She laughs.

I laugh with her as I put two slices of peanut butter and jelly together. "I don't think he'd like our topic of conversation." 

She waves her hand at me while saying, "And who says he has to know." 

I start a new sandwhich after bagging the other. "Well, whether or not he forgets on my birthday, I'll still try to find one," I say. Dad was strict, but I couldn't go my entire life obeying his word. Seeing girls at school kissing and hugging their boyfriends… it's not something I've ever experienced. Being the daughter of the pastor in our small town didn't stop anyone from approaching me, but I kept my promise to him. I didn't let it go anywhere, but I was more than happy to be friends. No boy ever took me up on my offer. 

"Find what, dear?" Mrs. Nolt asks. 

I glance up at her, frowning at the glazed look in her eyes. It's nice to have a conversation with her while it lasts. She's a sweet old lady with Alzheimers, and I'm sad to see another conversation between us lost due to the horrible desease.I turn back to my sandwich as I think about some of the boys at school. Staying away may have made me a little boy crazy, but I'd be foolish to let it control me. It doesn't stop me from being excited though. I think about Kingston, and the way he smiled at me when we lit the stage candles together last Sunday. 

“Do you know-” I tilt my head up to look at her, but my voice gets caught in my throat, and a sob escapes me. Mrs. Nolt stands there, dead eyes glaring at me as if the deep cut in her throat is all my fault. Thick, dark blood oozes from her wound, staining her flower dress and blue coat. I turn around to run away, to stop looking at the grotesque image, but my feet are glued to the floor. My legs won't move. 

"It had to be done." Dad’s haunting voice reaches my ears. His leather shoes come into view, and his figure escapes from the shadows as if he were once a part of it. I cry out when I see the knife in his hands, blood dripping from the sharp blade. Then he raises it and aims it at me. "Don't be a sinner, Ariella," he says before he lunges.