Chapter 5|Sunshine you little perv!

I walked to my locker with a lazy smile on my face, my day had turned from sour to sweet. Little did I know that the sour devil hadn't finished with me just yet.

I slammed my locker and turned around only to be greeted by Erika Belle. My smile twisted into a scowl.

Erika was that cliche girl. She was the head cheerleader, bleach blonde, killer body bitch. Although I don't think many of her features were...original.

I plastered at sickly sweet smile on my face, but I was mentally butchering her face with knives. Great mental image I know.

"Can I help you?"I asked, tilting my head upwards so I could see her face. Not that I wanted to see her face, but her boobs were at my eye level and they were practically falling out of her tight tank top. Not a pretty sight.

She placed her hands on her hips and kept her face neutral.

"We saw you with Ryan at lunch, didn't we girls?"she said, turning to raise one perfectly sculpted eyebrow at her two cronies, obviously there for moral support.

"Uh huh,"they replied in unison, copying Erika's stance. I'm not gonna lie it was kinda funny.

"So, what's your point?"I asked.

"My point is he's mine, so stay away from him bitch."

I snorted. How cliche was she?

"Does he know that he belongs to you? I'm pretty sure if he knew that then he'd be running for the hills. I sure as hell would be."

She took a step towards me, narrowing her eyes into slits.

"I would slap you but I don't want to get slut on my hand."

"Yeah,"one of the cronies said, snapping her fingers.

I rolled my eyes. Was that really necessary?

"Why? It's already all over your outfit,"I said, looking her up and down. Bad idea. Because she had stepped forward her boobs were about an inch away from my face.

"Holy watermelons,"I muttered to myself, taking a step away from her...watermelons.

Erika's face went a deep shade of red and an angry vein appeared on her forehead. It didn't look very healthy.

"Apologise now bitch,"she growled.

"I think you're the one who needs to apologise. Somewhere out there is a tree, tirelessly making oxygen for you to breathe. It deserves an apology, not you."

She looked at me with a blank stare.

"It's pointless to make fun of you because by the time you understand what I said, people with low IQ's will be living on Pluto,"I said, picking up my backpack from where I'd dropped it on the floor.

"Where do you think you're going?"Erika screeched as I walked away.

"Home,"I replied, flashing her a smile.

She obviously still hadn't got my tree joke.

~*~*~

"Hazel, thank god you're home,"Mom said as I walked into the kitchen. Unwashed dishes were scattered across the counter and piled up around the sink. She was rushing around like a squirrel on crack, whilst I was standing there more confused than a zebra on a zebra crossing.

"What's going on?"I asked, watching her race around the dining room, setting the table.

"Family dinner."

I resisted the urge to groan and stomp my foot childishly. Just.

Family dinners were the worst. By family my mom meant her side of the family. There was my grandma-who insisted on me piling my plate with a mountain of food because she thought I was too skinny. She obviously hasn't looked closely at her own daughter for a while if she thought I was skinny. Then there were my two uncles Garry and Toby. Don't get me wrong, I like gay people. Gay people are hilarious. But when they do the whole making- out-in-front-of-the-family thing, it makes my insides die. C'mon people, there is a time and place for that, and it isn't while your virgin eyed niece is watching. Next were my aunt Julia and my aunt Dahlia. No they weren't lesbian, they were twins. Neither of them were married, probably because the poor guys they date can't tell them apart. Hell, I didn't know which was which. Add the most awkward conversation topics you can think of and voila, you've got yourself a shit sandwich with no mayo.

"Go and get Jasmine ready, would you sweetheart?"she asked, but it wasn't like I had a choice.

"Sure,"I mumbled.

I found Jasmine sitting on the floor in her room, dressed in only her underwear.

"What are you doing?"I asked, stepping into her hot pink bedroom. I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the brightness.

"I have nothing to wear,"she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

I rolled my eyes. Sure she didn't.

I walked to her closet, stepping over several pink stuffed animals while doing so. I yanked open her closet doors.

Pink, pink, pink, pink, pink, pink, blue, pink, pink, pink.

My eyes narrowed in on the foreign colour. I snatched the item of clothing from the hanger and held it out in front of me. It was cute. A blue polka dot dress with wide straps and a white bow wrapping around the middle. Soft ruffles fell to the hem, which I assumed would be about knee height on Jasmine.

"Here,"I said, throwing the dress at Jasmine.

She frowned. "Its not pink."

"Correct. It's blue, I don't know if you've ever heard of it but its a colour that's not associated with unicorns and magical pixie dust,"I said, sarcastically.

"I wanna wear pink,"she retorted, crossing her pale arms across her chest.

"It's your choice, but don't come crying to me when the other colours get mad because you didn't want to wear them,"I replied, walking out of her room. Jasmine may have been smart, but she was still very gullible.

I wandered back downstairs to make sure mom wasn't tearing her hair out.

"Why are you not ready?"she asked sternly, looking me up and down.

"You just told me to get Jasmine ready,"I frowned, looking at her confusedly.

"Don't answer back, Hazel!"

"That's kinda how the whole communication thing wor-"

"Stop interrupting me,"she scolded, cutting off my sentence. How hypocritical.

I sighed and looked down at her, waiting expectantly.

"I want you to wear a dress and for Gods sake fix your hair."

"Fine,"I said, turning around to climb the stairs again and then muttering,"God doesn't care about my hair."

"What was that young lady?"my mothers sharp voice cut through the air.

"I'm not a lady!"I yelled, stomping up the stairs into my room

"Fix my hair for Gods sake, who does she think she is?"I muttered as I raked angrily through my closet for a dress. I only owned two and they were buried somewhere under the masses of jeans, sweatpants and hoodies, my staple clothes.

I eyed a strip of white material sticking out from under a pile of clothes. I grabbed it and pulled, dragging out a nude and white lace dress.

I'd bought this dress last summer because Tara had forced me to, saying that I needed to strengthen the diversity of my wardrobe.

I actually liked the dress, it had thick straps and the section from my shoulders to my waist was lace. It was white at the top, gradually fading into a light nude colour, flowing to just above my knees.

I stripped my other clothes and slipped the dress on. I forced my hair onto a somewhat tidy bun on top of my head, leaving my face makeup free. I honesty didn't know how girls coped with wearing that crap everyday. I tried to put makeup on once. After stabbing myself in the eye three times, I decided I looked fine without it. My vision was probably impaired for a few hours, but that's a minor detail.

Jasmine emerged from her room at the same time I did, wearing the blue dress with a gloomy look on her face. I smiled in triumph.

I padded down the stairs, my bare feet sticking slightly to the shiny floors. I was wearing a dress and I had fixed my hair, there was no way I was wearing shoes too.

Jasmine pushed past me, rushing into the kitchen as she heard the doorbell ring. Unlike me, Jasmine actually liked these family functions, mainly because she was usually the topic of conversation. It was always 'Jasmine's so smart', 'Jasmine's got such beautiful hair' and they'd all touch her hair, which I found extremely weird. Or my personal favourite,'Jasmine is going to be so successful when she's older'. I found this one particularly funny because I predicted that Jasmine would be pregnant by the age of seventeen. If they thought being successful meant being a teenage mother then my lovely mom would have about the same success rate as Walt Disney, obviously both would be successful in different fields. Walt Disney wasn't a teen mom. You know what I'm trying to say.

I watched from a distance as Jasmine pulled open the door and flew at our grandmother who was waiting outside. Grandma smiled, stepping into the room and looking around her as Jasmine closed the door. Her smile vanished when she saw me.

"Hazel,"she said, walking towards me. She stopped in front of me, looking me up and down as if she was inspecting a piece if furniture.

My grandmother was a short woman, barely reaching five foot. She wore old fashioned clothes and reeked of lavender, a smell that I had grown to hate over the years. She was...plump with a round face and permanently reddened cheeks. Her greying hair was always permed and her makeup done.

I felt the urge to sneeze as she stepped closer to me, but I held it back.

"Oh dear,"she said, looking at me in an appalled manner. "Did you get a spray tan?"

I clenched my fists. She could've at least been subtle about it. Trying to be polite about racism doesn't work.

"No Grandma,"I said, forcing myself to smile politely,"I was born this colour."

For a split second she seemed taken aback by my answer, but it was a blink and you miss it kinda thing. And once again she plastered on a smile.

"That's nice dear,"she replied, before hobbling off to the kitchen.

"Stupid hag,"I muttered to myself, ignoring the stinging sensation on the palms of my hands where my nails had cut four crescent moons on each hand.

Two strong hands attached themselves to either one of my shoulders from behind.

"Don't listen to her, kiddo,"dad whispered to me, so nobody else would hear him. He must've watched the scene unfold.

"It's hard not to."

"Trust me I know."

Dad disliked grandma as much as I did. You see, Jasmine was born before mom and dad were married. They got engaged a few months after Jasmine was conceived, but decided to wait until she was born before they tied the knot. Grandma, being her old fashioned self, completely opposed the idea of having a child before marriage. She made his life a living hell and that was over nine years ago. They're still not on speaking terms.

The rest of the night went as I'd predicted; at dinner grandma had told me that I 'needed some meat on my bones'. All the while this was happening my uncles were whispering in each others ears and holding hands under the table. My aunts were sharing some private joke with my mom, and my dad was secretly texting me under the table. Jasmine, on the other hand, was pretending that she was a nice, polite person. She always did that when we had people over, she'd offer to get the guests drinks and she'd offer to clear the table. All she was doing was fishing for compliments.

I had managed to escape from my family, reciting some bullshit excuse about having an exam tomorrow. They all bought it. Suckers.

I flopped onto my bed, not so gracefully, ripping the hair tie from my hair, letting it flow messily across my shoulders and down my back.

I glanced out my window. The light shone out from the window across from mine. Stretched out on his bed with his arms folded behind his head was Ryan. He was staring blankly at the ceiling, oblivious to my wandering eyes. Did I mention that he was shirtless? No? Well he was. Let me describe his abdomen for you. For starters he had a six pack. Scratch that, he had an eight pack. Double scratch that, he had eight packs on his freaking eight pack. To add to that his sweatpants were sitting low on his hips, showing a deep v line leading to...you know where. I could see that he had several tattoos; one on his left pec, one on his ribs, one peeking out from the waistband of his sweatpants and the one I had seen earlier on his arm actually covered his shoulder and part of his right pectoral.

Hubba freaking hubba.

I turned my head back to stare at my own ceiling. It was pretty, with a painting of a blue sky and white puffy clouds covering the entire space. I'd painted it myself, although in hind sight I probably should have recruited some extra help because standing on a ladder, looking upwards is a great way to pull the muscles in your neck. I learnt that the hard way.

That reminded me about my sketchbook, which I still hadn't found. I had come to the conclusion that someone had stolen it, but I didn't understand why. It wasn't like there was anything scandalous or juicy in there, just a bunch of random sketches of really odd things. Most of them weren't even finished. It was kind if a substitute for a diary because I wasn't so great in the word department-

A sudden sharp pain appeared in my neck. I frowned and looked around for someone to blame. Ryan was standing beside his open window, now wearing a shirt to my dismay, a stupid grin on his face. He pointed down towards my feet and I looked to see what he was gesturing to. A white paper plane sat at my feet where it had fallen, the front of the plane was bent from the impact when it hit me.

I picked it up and carefully unfolded it revealing a written message.

'Sunshine, you little perv!'is what it read.

Dammit he'd caught me.

I stood up, scrunched up the paper into a tight ball and launched it through my own window, hoping that it would hit him. The ball flew pathetically, bouncing off the outside wall of his house and falling to its death.

I stomped my foot frustratedly, while Ryan laughed, clutching his stomach for extra exaggeration. Jerkity, jerkity, jerk. Not funny.

I huffed, slamming my window and violently yanking the blinds closed. I let out a frustrated scream and kicked my dresser. My wooden dresser. I only realised that was a bad idea after I'd done it. I hopped over to my bed, falling onto it with a thump while I clutched my throbbing toes.

~*~*~

"C'mon, start you piece of shit,"I muttered, turning the key once again. Elmo made a sick sounding cough. I smacked the dash in annoyance, why he chose not to start at that very moment is beyond me.

Now I'd have to walk, just brilliant.

Tara had already texted me to say that her mom was giving her a ride, so I didn't have to worry about her.

I sighed and started walking. It wasn't the best way to start the day.

Fifteen minutes later I was still walking. I had underestimated how far it was from my house to the school and I was regretting not just pretending to be sick.

A car slowed to a crawl beside me. I was worried it was a kidnapper or a stalker until I realised who was in the car.

"Hey sunshine, want a ride?"

I probably still should've been worried.

"Not particularly,"I replied, looking at the car, which I figured out was actually a beat up pickup truck.

I frowned, but carried on walking. Weren't popular people supposed to drive expensive cars?

"C'mon, you know you want to."

"How do you know I want to? Are you a mind reader?"

"Of course I am. It's just one of my many talents,"he said, wriggling his eyebrows. Of course he meant that in a sexual way.

"What am I thinking then?"

"You're thinking about how much you want me to give you a ride."I cringed as those words left his mouth. I looked at him in disgust, but he just smirked at me.

"That's definitely not what I'm thinking,"I said, making sure my words couldn't be twisted.

"It is hard to grasp with two hands what another person is thinking."

Cringeworthy.

"I have a good idea, but don't let me shove it down your throa-"

"Alright, alright! Fine! Please no more innuendos,"I yelled, as I stopped walking.

He grinned and reached over to open the door. I climbed into his truck and shut the door, muttering under my breath about how stupid guys were.

~*~*~

Chapter five complete!

Sorry if Hazel is a bit snappy in this chapter. When I'm in a bad mood my characters tend to get bitchy.

Anyway...Whoever is reading this should be proud of me because this is the furthest I have ever got to in a book. Usually I get to the second or third chapter and delete the whole thing, so yay for that.

I was thinking of having Logan Lerman as Caleb, but I haven't decided yet so I'm up for suggestions.

Thanks for reading.

Until next time.