Young Writers Society

Miles

Miles had decided to take Blayne's advice. He got on the board the way that felt normal to him and went along the way that felt good to him. He didn't care that he was on backwards and was probably doing it all wrong; the really good skaters were pprobably laughing at him, but he just didn't care.

He'd seen some girl laugh out loud-her head thrown back and everything. She tilted her hat over her eyes and turned towards Cassandra. Miles tried not to laugh. He really did, but the whole scene had just been hillarious. It was obvious that she had meant to hurt her, and the scream that came out of Cassandra's mouth was so funny. Miles doubled over with laughter. Cassandra wasn't seriously hurt, and the way the other girl's head had bounced off the concrete seemed so comical.

It was probably mean to be laughing at them, but he couldn't help it. Miles knew that the other girl had done it on purpose which made the whole thing just that much funnier. He dug the stitch out of his side and wiped the tears from his eyes. Someone bumped into him a bit and he just collapsed into a fit of giggles. Miles thought that he was going insane.

Then he saw Blayne doubled over. He thought she was laughing too, but something was wrong. He could see that she was tinted green. She's going to hurl, he thought. He decided to stay away from that situation. He didn't want his clothes to have puke all over them. He started to walk away, but decided he couldn't just leave her like that no matter what she'd said to him.

"What's wrong?" he asked her.

~Rae~

The loud scream echoed.Me and Becca automatically turned, only to see Cassandra, and all most all of the guys surrounding her. My mind thought at rapid speed, and the happy look on my face faded into the evil stare I had perfected, aimed at Cassandra. I glanced at Becca, and she was laughing so hard, it made me laugh.

Cassandra stared at me, but, she didn't scare me, I was used to it. Our faces were red from laughing so had when we finally managed to stop. My face turned a brighter red, as I saw Cassandra, still surrounded by OUR guy friends. She wasn't going to get away with this, my mind had been brainstorming since the first time I saw her with them.

Blayne

I closed my eyes and swallowed. My skin was filming over with sweat, and I felt bitterly cold and stifling hot at the same time. I was shaking all over, and I just couldn't stop. I couldn't skate- the motion made my head spin and stomach churn. When I opened my eyes, my vision swam, like when you were looking up through water.

I wanted to panic. But I didn't seem to have the energy left to do so much as shift my position, let alone freak. Davey got up and left- I'd call him for a ride later. When I felt better. I felt like I was falling forward. My eyes snapped open, and I almost hurled right there. My eyes fluttered and I took another sip of Sprite. I cooled, and my stomach stopped heaving. For a moment.

I rubbed my hands on my cargoes, feeling each groove in the zippers. I tried not to faint -and that was quite a feat- and shivered as a breeze tickled my face. My hands felt clammy, and my head swayed. I shook it away, mouth dry and head spinning. My spine tingled, and my stomach bucked again.

I tried to swallow, but this time, there was nothing to swallow at all. I took in a breath that made my insides writhe, and I trembled again.

Oh god.

Miles

God, this better be worth it, he thought as he walked up to Blayne. "Hey are you okay?"He should've known better than to ask that again. The last time he'd asked her that, she'd snapped for no reason. He'd already been on her bad side this morning, but he just couldn't resist a damsel in distress. She opened her mouth in response and immediately closed it again. "Better yet, should I move before you hurl on me or something?" She nodded quickly, her hair bobbing aorund her head. "Just tell me if you need anything." She shook her head ferociously and glared at him. He got the feeling that this damsel in distress didn't want to be rescued.

I knew Airhead was going to wipe out like the pathetic poseur she was. I mean, she carried her board with a mall grab! I rolled my eyes. Hopefully the boys could figure out just how plastic she was before someone had to show them. I stopped laughing and caught site of Blayne and Miles.

Oh no.

"Catch ya in a bit," I muttered to Rae before skating to my bag. Scooping it up, I rode through the crowd of onlooking skaters and rich kids alike. Forget stupid politics. If she sees me helping her as weakness, then whatever. I didn't care at this point. Somebody needed to help her. And it seemed to me as if I was the only one around brave enough, besides the naive Miles kid, to approach her.

"Move," I commanded Miles. I tried to be nice, but my voice---and manner---came out as gruff with concentration. Blayne stood there, as if she was frozen and helpless.

"Blayne." I looked at her pointedly, summoning every ounce of courage my body possessed. No way would she see me as intimidated by her. "I'm going to ask you a few questions. Answer them as best you can. If you can't vocalize, nod or shake your head. If you need to throw up, the garbage bin is right there."

She looked at me, same fierce expression, though this time contorted by nausea. I wanted to leave, but I held my ground. There's a person beneath that facade, I reminded myself. "When was the last time you drank anything besides Sprite?"

After a short conversation, I decided that she'd become dehydrated. I told her to sit and just breathe. It was moderate dehydration. If she vomited, we'd need an ambulance. I took out a bottle of water and a bottle of Gatorade from my pack. Thank god I kept this stuff on me. Skaters weren't the most mindful of hydration. I handed her the bottle and commanded her to sip it. She could alternate with Gatorade, but I cautioned her against drinking too much. I really didn't need her breakfast on my shoes, and we didn't need Blayne in the hospital. She nodded gratefully and sipped, moving to sit on her 'throne.' Without the attention of the park on her, I could see a hint of what she was like without her tough-girl attitude.

Blayne

My breath hitched. In a hoarse whisper, I said, "Hey... thanks. Sorry for snapping.... I'm just... eugh..." I cut my apology off, thanks to a wave of nausea. "Yeah. Go work on your boarding 'fore I puke." I said in the same voice. I covered my mouth and closed my eyes.

I was fine. Completely and utterly.

"I am fine, I am fine, I am fine." I said hoarsely. There was no way in all earth I was going to hurl with the Jerkette still moaning and crying just a few yards over. Becca rubbed my arm and handed me another bottle. I drained half of it. "Oh, man, that feels good." I said, the hoarseness fading. Becca smiled and rubbed my back.

"Easy. Keep drinking, and do not try to skate if you still feel sick. You hear me."

I nodded and with a grateful smile, said, "Thanks. Really." I took another long draught and reached for another bottle. Really, it was helping. After one more bottle, I felt restored. I lifted a finger, grabbed a can of spraypaint from my backpack, and sprayed an extension to my square. In mine, I wrote out "Blayne" and in hers, "Becca".

"There we go. Take a sit, dear lassie." I said, patting the concrete.

Now we were getting somewhere.

I grinned, but not too broadly. I didn't want to advertise my happiness. I figured a gradual approach was a bit better with Blayne. I briefly glanced at her then back at Prissy Whatserface, saying,"Don't drink too much, or you'll be back to square one."

She nodded in acknowledgment, though she continued to swig. I knew not to expect full compliance, though the fact that she was grateful bolstered my hopes that we were well on the way to becoming friends. By this time, Prissy had stopped her babyish whining. The smarter boys left to practice their hobby, or talk amongst themselves. Jessie, poor dude, was attached to her like a leech. We were going to have to intervene--and soon.

"Dude," I looked at Blayne, new thought in mind. "Blonde chick reminds me of Avril Lavigne, in a weird way."

Mitchel~

It wasn't a bad injury, per say, but it was enough to make someone cry out of pain. Damn his sister. Mitchel stood up and made his way over to her when nobody was looking. She knew better than to mess with his friends, even if she didn't have any, that gave her no reason.

How embarrassing.

"Go away," Macey hissed, her eyes full of happiness and concentration. Mitchel stuck his leg out right as she passed, causing her to fly into the ramp, a small cut appearing on her lip. Her eyes held a hint of fear, of what, Mitchel hadn't the slightest clue. He didn't know his sister at all, and at times, he simply could careless. "Mitchel Donovan, stop it right now!" Macey growled, standing up. Her tight skinnies her ripped at the knee, from the tussle with Cassandra earlier, and a bit of blood was around the rip.

But... Mitchel didn't care. Macey had embarrassed him, and that's all that mattered. He swung at his little sister, and Macey ducked with a yelp, Mitchel barely grazing her hair. "Mitch, stop c'mon!" Macey was behind him. He spun and shoved her away from him, reaching out to grab her, his other hand in a fist.

Macey paled and stepped on her board, flying into the bowl. Mitchel grabbed a random bored and tried to drop in, falling flat on his face. Macey gasped and turned around, skating to her brothers aide.

It was clear who loved who more.

"Mitch, are you okay?" She asked softly, Mitchel pulling her down to him as they rolled across the bottom of the bowl, Mitchel yelling at her and Macey begging him to just stop and act like a normal person.

He needed anger management classes.

Blayne

"You know what? You're right!" I said, swallowing a treat- a sip of gatorade. I'm such a daredevil. "I mean, acts tough, but has that... I dunno... something that's lets you know that she's not, not really."

"And you're Pink."

"Say what now?"

Becca laughed. "You know, Alecia Moore? Married to Carey Hart, awesome singer?"

"Oh, Pink!"

"Yeah- acts tough, is tough. And talented. And whose bite is just as bad as her bark."

"Sweet. Well then... you're... you're.... hm... toughie... Got it! Hayley Williams!"

"Paramore?"

"Yeah, y'know, all perky and sweet, but has that sort of, 'Don't think you can mess with me, bud' thing goin' on?'

"Haha, sweet."

I laughed again. It felt good to laugh- genuinely laugh, like when Davey did his impression of some of his professors. I heard screaming from the bowl, and me and Bec fell silent. I grabbed my board and skated down there. Macey was over there, pleading with a raging Mitch. I picked up my board and whacked the second on, hard, on the back, and snapped my fingers in front of Macey's face.

"You-" I pointed at Mitch, "need to shut up. Yeah, she's your sis, yeah, we can see Blondie Deux is in pain, but lay off her! Everyone has their reasons."

"And you-" I turned to Macey, "need to learn to forget what he thinks. And recognize a lost battle when you see one. He's obviously going to choose Blondie Deux over something honest and pure any day." I spat it out venomously, glaring at Mitch. I had them all named. I skated back up to Becca.

"Now, where were we?"

"Hayley Williams."

"Right."

Miles

Why did he feel like he had to step in every time something happen? He'd seen a girl and boy fighting and was wondering if he should step in. Then the boy swung at the girl and Miles nearly lost it. Don't you dare, Miles, he warned himself. He'd already gotten into it with Blayne, the girl that went to go help Blayne, and he knew he'd get into it with his mom later. Maybe he wasn't the charmer that he thought he was.

But mostly, he just needed to mind his own business and ride his skateboard-backwards and all. You're not a hero, you're a poser. That word-poser-kept flipping through his had. He knew he wasn't a poser; he really wanted to learn how to ride. He wasn't pretending to be something that he wasn't, but that's what all the real skaters thought anyway.

And what was with the chicks at the skate park? Why did they have to be so angry and emo looking all the time. He'd been at the park longer than he thought he'd been. The sky was darkening a bit, but he wouldn't go home until it was pitch black outside. That would mean both his parents would be sitting up waiting for him, and their faces would be hysterical when they how banged up he was. He couldn't wait, and he skated down the ramp with a blindingly bright smile. He was finally getting it.

Cassandra Trestice:

Cass Trestice didn't walk. She strutted.

Strutting her way over to where Mitchel had just finished yelling at his female dog sister, Macey--the one who had knocked Cass off her board and made her rip the ninety-five dollar skinny jeans she was wearing. Cassandra was still fuming over that.

Jessie followed behind her like a puppy dog, which didn't really bother Cass. He was free to go when he liked, and free to stay whenever. The only boy she'd ever tried to hold on to was the guy that taught her to skate board, and he was long gone. She hadn't been in a serious relationship since then, just a lot of flirting.

She came up behind Mitchel and put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a puppy dog look.

"You're so brave to come over here and confront your sister for me, Mitchel," She said, a smile playing on her lips. "But why don't you come over here with me and Jessie before your sister kills you--or decides to knock you down like she did to me." With a hmph, Cass turned on her heel, knowing already that Mitchel would follow.

As she turned, she made sure to give ever other girl in the skate park a look that said "heck yeah, you wish you were me." And truth was, the majority of them did.

Blayne

That. Jerkette. Flirting. BLOND. Was. SO. DEAD.

So y'know what I did? I walked up to her, spun her around, and pinned her to the ground.

"Listen, Trestice. I dunno what this psychopathic need to have every boy wrapped your finger is, but you better cut it out. We got nationals in one week, and I do not want my boys fumbling where they should be flying because you're sweet-talking them. And you know why Macey did that? Because she's a good sister who didn't want her brother to get hurt. And don't you dare say you have a reason, cause I have one too.

"My mom is dead. My father doesn't care if I live or die. My brother is overworked and underpaid. I have to be tough, have to be a female dog. It's how I survive. And I don't give a flying rat if your skinnies are ripped, because they aren't your color anyway. And some of us are doing this for a release, to stop our selves from going out of control, not just to rebel and have an escape from a prissy life. Deal with us, or die." I said, each word more cold and venomous than the next.

I pushed her away and stormed back to my concrete throne, next to Bec's.

"That felt really good."

Cassandra Trestice:

Glaring daggers was something she'd learned to do long before coming to America. She was, at the moment, glaring daggers at the female dog who'd just pinned her to this awful, filthy ground. Blayne.

Pouting, she called, "Mitch. Jessie. Help me!"

They both rushed to her side, and Cassandra said to them, "Boys, I think Blayne needs to learn that there is going to be a new queen around here, and her name isn't Blayne Wood. No, boys, the new Queen will be me. And you both shall be my Kings."

They stared at her, and she gave them each a wink.

Blayne Wood was going to pay for what she'd done to Cass.

Mess with the bull, you get the horns...well, Blayne, you better watch out, Cassandra thought.

Blayne

My blood was roaring in my ears. She was turning my people against me. I wasn't the Queen of Brindfield- I had admitted that. But there was no way in flipping heaven she was getting any further with this.

I needed to skate.

I grabbed my board and launched into the bowl. 360's. Kickflips. A shove-it here and there. More carves than I could count. A few improv stunts I didn't recognize, and I didn't care. I needed serious air, the blunt force of landings racking my bones. Needed to stop thinking, before I did something stupid to Trestice.

Stupid French blond jerkette. And her ability to rip away everything I loved.

I paused on the edge of the bowl. Everyone was flocking to the ramp, where Trestice was skating. "She's such a trooper,"

"Yeah, look at her, tough!"

"Tougher than Blayne, I'd say!"

That did it. One last 360 for the road, and I was out. Blinded by tears, confusion, loss, sadness, rage, hate all running wild. Cassandra Trestice was not tougher than me. She couldn't be! Never... I choked on my tears and cried out, a safe distance from the crowd. I dropped to my knees, arms over my head, in a tight ball, under a lamp.

This girl was ruining my life, and it made her happy.

I whimpered and sobbed again, hating her, the world, myself.

Becca

I watched the scene in horror. That filthy French speck of dirt.

I stood up on the highest point of the skate park. Everyone could see me. And hopefully, hear me.

"Oh, so now you think you rule the skate park? And you dared to call Macey and Blayne female dogs? Who are you anyway? Unlike everything you've ever been told, YOU. ARE. NOBODY. In the skatepark, we come here to release our stress, to connect with friends, and get away from controlling people like YOU who would otherwise give us no freedom. You have some nerve, you vile, PATHETIC excuse for a rich kid. I'm afraid you're mistaken, honey. We are EQUALS. And if anyone runs this place, it's BLAYNE. Or, it's ME. Not YOU. I know you're not a native English speaker, but I think Macey taught you what that means without words. You're not going to mess this up for us."

The crowd stood in the middle, shocked into silence.

"Now isn't the time for choosing sides or starting hierarchies. Frenchie is as much queen of the skate area as I am DJ of Les Deux. She's going to keep pulling this crap and dividing us until we IGNORE HER."

I took a breath. I'd just challenged the airhead.

And I knew, deep down, I'd win.