“Josh, I don’t want to go; your friends scare me,” a girl whined.
“Well too bad,” Josh replied, “I’m going and I will not be stood up by a girl so you’re coming,”
“Did that make sense to anyone?” Sheelin muttered, “god, Josh is such a prick,”
“Ha, remember when you had a major crush on him?” Mila said, leaning against the bus window.
“I thought we weren’t going to bring that up again,” Sheelin scowled.
“Well, I’m bringing it up,” Mila said.
“Aaron,” I said.
Mila glared at me, “What?”
“Remember Aaron?” Sheelin said. I leaned back satisfied. I saved Sheelin from an untimely social death and brought Mila back to our level. Even though she was our leader, she was still our friend and we saw her as an equal. They continued to argue until we got to school.
“Hey,” I said, slapping both of them in the back of the head, “we’re here. Stop bitching about old shit,” they glared and followed me off the bus. We walked to first period and dropped our stuff off in our usual seats. Even though we were part of an organized group that did meet occasionally, (I’m not about to call us a gang because that would be like signing our death certificate,) we still had to get good grades, so we chose the front row.
We had English first, then Math, Biology, French, Marketing, then Gym. A lovely schedule. Actually, it sucked, but we had the same classes together so I’m not complaining. By the end of first period, I had a page of notes on Julius Caesar that were barely legible.
“Julius Caesar can go to hell,” Sheelin said as we walked to math.
“I’m pretty sure he did,” Mila said. We laughed and walked into math. I made the mistake of zoning out, but oh well; C’est la vie. I’ll borrow Mila’s notes.
The rest of the day was like that; I’d zone out or end up with a page full of notes that were impossible to read. I was too excited; after school, we were all going to get the tattoo.
Ever since we had started Lakas for Life, we had recruited a few other people who were like us; strong in all ways possible and social outcasts because of it. We weren’t arrogant, we just wanted to be different and we figured this was the only way to be different.
Today was the day Sheelin, Mila, and I were going to get L4L tattooed on us. It took forever, but we finally found a person who would tattoo us and would ignore our age. We technically needed, our parents’ approval, but family friends and people owing favors can be a good thing, right?
By the time we had gotten to my house, we were so ecstatic we decided to run to the place. We were out of breath when we arrived to Ink It Up Tattoo, but still excited. A bell above the door sounded as we walked in.
“I’m sorry,” a guy said, “but no parent, no piercings or tattoos,”
Mila glared at him, “We’re here for Shay,”
“Oh, you’re the people she was talking about,” he said, “Follow me,” we walked to the back of the shop and saw a woman with short, black, choppy hair prepping her station. She had a nose piercing, three tattoos on her neck, and many more on her body.
“Shay,” the guy said, “three girls for you,”
“Sweet,” Shay said. She wiped her hands on her black skirt. Anyone else who wore the clothes she was wearing would’ve been called a hooker, but she pulled it off.
Mila stepped forward and hugged her, “Nice to see you!”
“Well too bad,” Josh replied, “I’m going and I will not be stood up by a girl so you’re coming,”
“Did that make sense to anyone?” Sheelin muttered, “god, Josh is such a prick,”
“Ha, remember when you had a major crush on him?” Mila said, leaning against the bus window.
“I thought we weren’t going to bring that up again,” Sheelin scowled.
“Well, I’m bringing it up,” Mila said.
“Aaron,” I said.
Mila glared at me, “What?”
“Remember Aaron?” Sheelin said. I leaned back satisfied. I saved Sheelin from an untimely social death and brought Mila back to our level. Even though she was our leader, she was still our friend and we saw her as an equal. They continued to argue until we got to school.
“Hey,” I said, slapping both of them in the back of the head, “we’re here. Stop bitching about old shit,” they glared and followed me off the bus. We walked to first period and dropped our stuff off in our usual seats. Even though we were part of an organized group that did meet occasionally, (I’m not about to call us a gang because that would be like signing our death certificate,) we still had to get good grades, so we chose the front row.
We had English first, then Math, Biology, French, Marketing, then Gym. A lovely schedule. Actually, it sucked, but we had the same classes together so I’m not complaining. By the end of first period, I had a page of notes on Julius Caesar that were barely legible.
“Julius Caesar can go to hell,” Sheelin said as we walked to math.
“I’m pretty sure he did,” Mila said. We laughed and walked into math. I made the mistake of zoning out, but oh well; C’est la vie. I’ll borrow Mila’s notes.
The rest of the day was like that; I’d zone out or end up with a page full of notes that were impossible to read. I was too excited; after school, we were all going to get the tattoo.
Ever since we had started Lakas for Life, we had recruited a few other people who were like us; strong in all ways possible and social outcasts because of it. We weren’t arrogant, we just wanted to be different and we figured this was the only way to be different.
Today was the day Sheelin, Mila, and I were going to get L4L tattooed on us. It took forever, but we finally found a person who would tattoo us and would ignore our age. We technically needed, our parents’ approval, but family friends and people owing favors can be a good thing, right?
By the time we had gotten to my house, we were so ecstatic we decided to run to the place. We were out of breath when we arrived to Ink It Up Tattoo, but still excited. A bell above the door sounded as we walked in.
“I’m sorry,” a guy said, “but no parent, no piercings or tattoos,”
Mila glared at him, “We’re here for Shay,”
“Oh, you’re the people she was talking about,” he said, “Follow me,” we walked to the back of the shop and saw a woman with short, black, choppy hair prepping her station. She had a nose piercing, three tattoos on her neck, and many more on her body.
“Shay,” the guy said, “three girls for you,”
“Sweet,” Shay said. She wiped her hands on her black skirt. Anyone else who wore the clothes she was wearing would’ve been called a hooker, but she pulled it off.
Mila stepped forward and hugged her, “Nice to see you!”
