9. Continuation of a bad bad day

(Favorite KAJ quotes)

Someone is making you feel special?

Keep your expectations on the low..

Always have it at the back of your mind that they're going to leave anytime.

Its to protect your heart👌

PS. And my heart is 70% intact because I never completedly trusted Tristan Gardner.

---

"WHAT THE HELL WAS that for!?" Max thunders, pushing me away from him, causing me to recoil three steps backwards and stagger.

His icy green eyes are piercing into mine.

"Sorry." I mumble looking anywhere but him as I try to bypass him, to make my way towards the cafeteria, cursing my self for letting the stupid blush crept up my cheeks.

But his body blocks mine, and his fingers tilts my chin up to meet his eyes.

Darn, his eyes are a shade greener when he is angry and it's so hot.

"I'm just wondering what happened to little sassy Katie, because right now, she can't look up at me to meet my eyes when talking to me." He leans closer to me, practically bending his weight because of my height and smirk smugly at me

I slap his hand away, furious and absolutely nervous. "Don't ever touch me with those flighty hands and fingers."

Are the words that erupts out of my mouth as I back away from him, afraid of what next he'd do to me because he's totally a monster and wouldn't hesitate using his fist on me.

His eyes darkens a shade greener as he studies me cautiously. He opens his mouth to speak, shut it, open it again, before pressing his lips together in a thin line.

Resentment clouds his eyes as he says "Fine." And I wonder why he just said 'fine, not minding to throw harsh comebacks at me, wonder what in the world I did to this boy who despise me with so much contempt, more than anyone in the world. His siblings hate me, but not to this extent. His is to the extreme like I was the practically the cause of his Dad's death.

I mentally slap myself when I realize what I just thought.

Thinking about dead people created room for and welcomed thoughts of my deceased mother into my small big mind.

I don't want to think about her, worst someone else's dead father.

So I make my way to the cafeteria, walking out of Max and his bad vibes.

* * *

I've never handled a broom before, talk more of did the dishes. I always had Madeline at my beck and call. Suprisingly Max was the total opposite of me.

He's entirely enjoying himself, with his earphones plug on, whistling and humming Drake's songs as he carries on washing the dishes in the Island and acts like I don't even exist, like he has no care in the world. I need no one to tell me he did this often.

My lips thin with frustration and irritation,

My chest heaves up and down, my breathing becomes unsteady because of uncertain anger. My heart stutters like a teenage love struck girl who was given an opportunity to speak to her crush and my perfect manicured black polished fingers are prop around the darn broom, with my head clueless on where to start from because the whole cafeteria os in total mess. LAHS students are animals, precisely pigs.

My boot even got sticked to a pink gum on the floor and it took me seven frustrating minutes, with me swearing and laying curses upon the squalid bitch that couldn't dispose her gum in the waste bin but the floor, before I finally got the fucking gum off.

When we'd first arrived, Max took it upon himself to clear all the tables and carried the plates into the kitchen for washing, which signified I was to sweep and mop.

Fed up, I start sweeping the dirt off the way the less bitchier subconscious in my head instructed me.

Madeline did move the the broom back forth, and sideways right?

Right Katherine?

"Yeah, right." I groan out loud, slapping my palm against my forehead, in attempt of having flashbacks on how Madeline clean, swept and mopped my room. I only had a faint memory on that because I'd either be on my bed with my laptop, facing timing with the deepshit Tristan or my friends.

I do what I think is sweeping, also mopping when I think it's required and the outcome of it is a much larger mess.

"Fucking fucketty fuck! I yell in frustration, through gritted teeth and stomp hard on the wet, slippery messy floor.

In the process on stomping on the floor, my foot slips which ends me landing on the wet floor with my white shots clad bum.

"Would you look at that?" Max scoffs, as he rests his back against the counter after he'd taken some plates where he left them to dry, wipe them with a napkin and gently place them inside the cupboard.

He gives me a smirk of resentment as a wicked mockery clouds his eyes at once. And he folds his arms and watch me like I'm an interesting action movie.

"Our little Katie here, doesn't know how to sweep and clean." He says to himself, like he's speaking to an audience.

I stand up from the mess, fully certain I have stains on my bum, and tears from nowhere instantly blurs my vision.

"She's only good at running her sassy little mouth, and being the spoilt bitchy brat that she is."

"Go fuck yourself, asshole." I ground out through gritted teeth. Thankfully I have my back face to him, so he can't see me in my weak state and the outflow of my silly tears. But he sure have seen the stains on my bum and is currently snickering at it.

Today is a bad bad day.

I was splashed with paint by Tristan and his teammates.

Which led to me being video taped and the video was posted on LAHS blog, which resulted to the fact of me being tagged "Blue Barbie Of LAHS" because of my blonde hair and the blue paint.

I was a total mess at chores.

I fell, landed my bum in the mess I created.

Was laughed at, insulted by my worst enemy, Maxwell Mackenzie seeing how pathetic I was with the broom and mop.

And lastly, I cried, again.

I wipe the tears off roughly with my hand as hot anger bubble right inside of me, causing me to shiver and vibrate with hatred for the world.

I slip out my phone from my backpack and dial Madeline's number.

When she picks up, I ask her to give me instructions on how to sweep and mop and she did.

When I hang up, I catch Max staring at me with pity and resentment, which clouds his face at once.

How the hell is that even possible?

He's almost entirely done with the tons dishes. The douchebag's handy, and if he isn't my enemy, I would've have admire him for the act he carried out hastily but professionally.

I discard my boots and set to work.

Work which means, picking up the discarded things on the floor and the disposal of them into the trash bins, plus sweeping the cafeteria at first, before mopping. Just as Madeline had instructed over the phone.

She was stunned when I asked her such questions, but knew not to ask because of my fiery temper.

I'm halfway through with the sweeping when Max swings his backpack over his shoulder and leaves.

It's getting quite dark and I'm embrace, sorround with and is in the midst of a lonely quietness.

I hate Max, but wasn't entirely uncomfortable around his presence. Do you know those vibes of someone being in the same room with you, even when you hate them?

It deflated the moment he left, and as much as I hate to admit it, I hate that I'm all alone in the whole school. The school security guard is outside, farther away from me.

And if some possibly witchy doll, Chucky or Annabelle, rather, or a real Pennywise appears right in my face, I would be gone for good even before a scream could erupt out of my mouth.

I've heard terrible stories about LAHS, how the ghost of three children haunted the school. But it wasn't entirey true right?

That happened two decades ago.

Finally I'm through with day one task.

The cafeteria looks almost completely spotless.

Phewwww, what a hectic day. I release a loud puffing breath from my lungs.

Sweeping and mopping isn't so bad, I guess.

Dad would crack up when he'd hear how I swept and mopped a whole cafeteria, or he might get furious and have the school authorities sued for letting his beloved little princess carry out such task.

Whichever way, he wouldn't know or have the slightest idea because I don't talk to him, I always advoid his calls and FaceTime with him.

And currently I'm weak, sweaty and hungry. And it's dark, half past eight.

Which meants I would have to call one of the drivers at home, take a bus or walk my way home with Buffalo pedestrians.

I'm so going with the first.

New Yorkers prefer walking to taking the bus, or car.

Just as I step out of the school gate, I see Max awaiting me, with his back pressed against the wall and a lollipop on his mouth.

What the...

Why would he wait for me?

Is he sick in the head?

Brainwashed?

Or perhaps had amnesia.

He flung his stupid back pack over his shoulder and existed the cafeteria hall two hours ago.

"Despite my hatred for you, I was taught to be a gentleman at night and be of help to people in need, not mostly the ill mannered tempestuous spoilt little brats."

My nostrils flare at the insult.

"Why you-"

"You, Katherine Amelia Jones, are all of them, and more..." He interrupts me as he forcefully grabs unto my arm and tightens his grip when I try to break free.

"Haven't I warned you not to touch me with those hands, Maxwell douchebag Mckenzie?" I mimick his English tone with wicked sarcasm, glaring hard at his stupid fucking face .

And he suprises me by throwing his head backwards and burst into a harsh back of laughter. A laughter which I want to punch off his face, to make him bleed like I did.

"It's late, and dangerous for a little girl, mostly one with oversize boobs to walk on the roads of New York alone."

That sting, so bad.

"You sick fucking bastard." Tears threatens to blur my vision, but I hold it captive, for the main time because I would let it out sometime later.

I forcefully break loose from his grip and suprise both myself and him by smacking him across his cheek.

With that, I take my heels.