My Escape Chapter 6

**Hi peoples! I don't really know what to say here, except I hope you enjoy it. Oh, and thanks for the comments. They seriously make my day. And thank you Pheobe for commenting on just about every chapter =) Anyways, again, I hope you enjoy!!**

The next day I hid out in my room all day and typed the article. This was what I loved. I didn’t have anyone to deal with seeing as how my dad had finally decided to go to work and my brother was far too hung over to do anything except lie in bed. The only thing I had to do today that required my leaving the house was go to the grocery store for dinner tonight; my dad suddenly had a craving for lasagna.
Most teenagers would be out shopping or playing basketball in their front yard on a Saturday, but not me. No, I was cooped up inside my little ‘ole room typing up a newspaper article. It was nearing two in the afternoon and I still hadn’t gotten out of my pajamas.

But being this pathetic was something I totally loved. I didn’t have to pretend to be all collected and perfect. I could be my usual self instead of being someone that I hated. It wasn’t that I hated trying to be perfect it was just that it got hard sometimes. Sometimes I just want to break down and cry, but I never let myself. There is this wonderful wall built between my emotions and my reality and if that wall ever breaks, I’m totally screwed.

That was what scared me so much around Oliver. Around him, I couldn’t control myself. My body had its own reactions and my mind wasn’t fast enough to block these reactions. It was infuriating to say the least.
I mean, just the simple twitch of his lips or the flaring of his nostrils would send me into overdrive. And don’t even get me started about when he kissed me…we would be here until a month from now. I had no idea what it was about him--he annoyed me to no end--but there was something there and I needed to find out what it was so that I could train my body not to react.

The bing! noise from my computer snapped me out of my daze and I looked at the screen. A little blue box had popped up and it said "one new email". I clicked on "read" and then waited a few moments while the message loaded.
It was from one of the writers on the paper. She attached her latest article to the top and the message said, "Not one of my greatest, but I hope we can use it. I swear I’ll do better next time. My boyfriend came down from college and so I’ve been a tad bit occupied."

I rolled my eyes at the message; of course a guy would be her problem. Guys ruined everything. I pulled up the article she had attached and then read over it a few times. There were many grammatical and spelling errors and I found myself getting annoyed.
It took me about an hour to finish editing it and once I did, I closed the lid to my laptop. That was enough newspaper for a while. I had already typed up my article and proofread three. There would be another ten articles coming in sometime today and I was not looking forward to that. I would be up all night and I had school tomorrow. Going into school looking sleep deprived wasn’t exactly a good thing.

But I did exactly that the next day. I walked the halls of Eastwood High School with bags under my eyes and hair in a ponytail. It was easy to say that I didn’t exactly look gorgeous. People didn’t seem to mind, though, they never minded. They never took second glances at me. Most people knew me as Greg Gregory’s sister or that nerd freak who runs the school paper.
Even though that was true, though, I still tried my hardest to seem perfect. If the people of the paper didn’t have someone to show them how they should conduct themselves then the paper would me in mass chaos. I needed to be the rock of the paper-the foundation.

First period I had the newspaper. It was pretty nice because it got my brain in gear for the rest of the day but it also sucked because everyone was always falling asleep at their computers. Today we had to put the articles together to form the newspaper; "The Eastwood Bugle."
I didn’t come up with the name. The students who worked on the paper in the late forties-yes my school was really that old-decided to name it that. So it just kind of stuck. Some kids had wanted to change it to make it sound more current, but since our assistant principal is ancient-a whopping seventy seven years old-we never can.
I was sitting at my computer formatting my article for the first page-all of the football stories made the cover-when Amy walked over to where I was sitting and crossed her shoulders over her chest. She was wearing a mini skirt and polo and it looked like it had taken her hours to do her hair this morning.

"Where did you disappear to Saturday night? I looked around for you for like an hour."
I turned around in my chair to face her and said, "I was going to that concession stand when the fight broke out. Then I went home." I wasn’t going to mention the whole cleaning Oliver up fiasco because anyone at this school would kill me if they found out I was friends-well acquaintances-with the enemy.
"Really?" she asked and a wide grin took over her face. It looked like she knew I had been lying.
"Yes, really," I insisted and then turned back towards my computer screen.
"Then why does Jessie have a picture of you flirting with Oliver Carter from Westwood? That is his name, right?"

My heart stopped cold when I heard that. Jessie Masterson had hated me since we were freshman. She was always second in class and I was always first. My brother was the quarterback and her brother was the quarterback if my brother got injured. My first-and only-boyfriend had coincidentally been the guy she had been crushing on since middle school. She had been trying to ruin my life and reputation since ninth grade and she had never gotten close because I wasn’t all that interesting.
I turned around to face her and asked, "What are you talking about?" No one was sitting next to me so I wasn’t exactly worried about someone overhearing us. The only thing I was worried about was how many people Jessie had already told.
Her face paled when she realized how pissed I looked. She defended herself by saying, "It wasn’t me, I swear. Jessie was working the concession stand Friday and saw you and the guy. She took a picture and I was the first person she showed it to, but she told me she’s going to print it and put it on the school bulletin board."
"Go sit back down," I instructed her and she scurried away, nervous. I stood up out of my chair and decided that it was time to be a bitch. I was going to use my head editor powers for evil.

My feet carried me over to where Jessie was busy typing up the lunch menu and when she saw me, she grinned. She had brown frizzy hair in a plait and her brown eyes were cold and full of hatred for me. She had on red lipstick that was in five years ago and she looked like a grandma trapped in a teenager’s body. But who was I to judge? Her fingers ceased on the keyboard and she said, "Guess you heard."
"Give me the picture," I commanded coldly. I wasn’t going to deal with this. If that picture had gotten out then I would be ruined. My brother would be ruined. That picture could get me fired as editor of the paper. I couldn’t even think about how much it would hurt my brother.
She shook her head and said, "Yeah, I don’t think so."
I had a plan for this. I smiled at her and commanded her once more, "Give me the picture or you’re off the paper."

Her face faltered and she glanced at the computer screen as if it would help her. She bit her bottom lip and then turned back towards me, "You can’t do that." Even though she hated me, her love for the paper exceeded it.
By this time people were looking at us with curiosity evident in their eyes. Usually, I would never stoop to this kind of behavior but she shouldn’t have taken the picture. It was none of her business. "I can-I’m the head of this paper if you haven’t heard-and I will. Give me the picture."
She huffed and told me, "I can still tell people what I saw. That picture was just for reinforcement."
"If anyone-and I mean anyone-hears about this, you will be off the paper, you understand? Amy won’t tell so I know it will be you."

Her face contorted into anger and her posture fell in defeat. I smiled at winning as she pulled up the file on her computer. I looked at the computer screen and sure enough, it was Oliver and I. It was after I had cleaned him off and he had grabbed my hand. The picture was taken at an angle so that it looked like we had been a couple; that was the farthest thing from the truth.
She pressed the delete icon at the top of the page and then the picture disappeared. I instructed her, "Give me your camera." She rolled her eyes at me and then retrieved her camera from her tote bag lying next to her computer. It was one of those brand new touch screen cameras in a green color.
I turned it on, brought up the picture, and then tapped the delete icon. I handed it back to her, gave her a condescending smile, and then walked over to my chair. I plopped down in my seat and then noticed everyone was staring at me. "Get back to work," I told them and then they immediately did so.
I looked over at the sponsor teacher’s desk and noticed she was dead asleep with a mug in her hand. It was nice to have the power.

I had to stay after school for about two hours to finish up the paper because it went to print tomorrow. No one else stayed except for me so it was nice to have the entire school to myself. The paper sponsor had given me a key to the classroom so that I could use it whenever I wanted to.
Everyone else on the paper probably was already at their jobs or at their significant other’s house getting busy on the couch until their parents got home. But not me. Nope, I was too busy editing Jessie’s article so that there wouldn’t be any insults about me in it. Yes, I was serious. Every three lines there was a new insult about me.
Editing her paper, I realized four things about myself that I didn’t know: I had an oddly shaped butt; I thought I was the ruler of the world-like Hitler, my lips looked like I had gotten lip implants, and had gotten liposuction before. The fourth one made me laugh out loud, actually. I never knew I had gotten plastic surgery done; well, I guess you learned something new everyday.

By the time I was done, it was five-thirty and the school was vacant. Even the principal had gone home an hour ago. It was kind of lonely being at the school all by my lonesome. Being there myself made me realize how massively huge the school truly was. The bathrooms no longer smelled of pot and I finally got to see into the faculty lounge. I had looked in there before, but it was always nice to look and see how much nicer they were treated than the students.
When I pulled into our house’s driveway, I noticed an odd vehicle parked on the side of the road. Neither my brother nor my dad was home so it got me really nervous. I mean, I had never even seen the unfamiliar black Ford truck before. I pulled my car along the side of the road and left the engine running so that if I needed to escape it would be easy.

Heart pounding, I got out of my car and then slowly made my way to the truck. I saw the shadow of someone in the driver’s seat and I could tell that it was a guy. That made me even more scared; girls never robbed houses, right? From what I knew, it was always a guy.
I finally got to the driver’s window and who I saw in the driver’s seat was even worse than a robber; it was Oliver. He was listening to the radio and drumming his fingers against the steering wheel before he saw me standing there. I pounded my fist on the window and I saw him jump a little.
When he saw me he let out a big smile and I hated to admit that it melted my insides a little bit. He rolled down his window and asked, "How come you get home so late?"
"What the hell are you doing at my house?" I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest. "How did you even know where my house was?"
He rolled his eyes at my attitude said, "It’s called the yellow pages."
"Stalker, much?"

"Look, I’m here to apologize for Saturday night. I didn’t mean for a whole fight to break out."
"Is that all?" I snapped rudely. He being here was stirring up some very vivid images in my mind and I needed them to stop. Let’s just say they involved me dragging him into my room… "Look, if my brother finds you here…he has a gun."
He laughed and then turned off the engine. He hopped out of his truck and then stood in front of me. "You’re concern for me is endearing, but I really don’t care."
"Look, I’ve already been threatened once today for knowing you. There can’t be a second time."
"Oh, so knowing me is a federal crime now?" he asked, his voice light and teasing. He really didn’t understand the seriousness of my tone.
"A girl on the paper that wants my head for a trophy took a picture of us Saturday night. She was going to print it and put it on the school bulletin board. I almost had to kick her off of the paper. So, yes, knowing you is a federal crime," I explained to him, a smile no where near my face, unlike him.

He started laughing when I told him this and I said, "It’s not funny! People at my school hate you, if you didn’t figure that out Saturday night. If someone so much as sees me talking to you, I’ll be the most hated girl at school."
"You care way too much about what people think about you," he pointed out and then added with a smirk, "We could go inside…"
"The fact that you know where I live is scary enough. Just go home and don’t talk to me anymore."
His smile fell and he said, "I can’t do that."
I rolled my eyes and said, "If you came over to apologize, point taken. Now, leave."
"I want to see you again," he insisted. It pissed me off that he wasn’t even getting in his truck. He wasn’t even going near it. "Go on a date with me Friday night."
I scoffed, "Yeah, like that would happen. Look, I’m sure there are tons of other girls who want to go on a date with you. Pick one of them."
"But I don’t want one of them, I want you."

For some reason, when he said that, it made me really happy. I had to try with all of my might not to break into a huge smile. I lied to him, "Well I don’t want you, so…"
He looked at me in the eyes for a second and then broke into a grin, "You’re lying. You won’t look me in the eyes for more than a second."
"Maybe that’s because your face disgusts me," I argued. I hated that he was so sure of himself and that he was so damn good at reading me.
"Really? Most girls seem to like it."
"Well they’re pathetic and needy and not me."

He grabbed me by the arms and then roughly pulled me towards him. The expression on his face was the same as Saturday night: serious, intense. I wanted him to kiss me so badly, almost as if I would die if he didn’t. But even when his face bent towards mine I whispered, "Please don’t."
"Stop talking," he instructed and then when I thought he would kiss my lips, he gave me a peck on the temple. Damn it. I hated how disappointed I was that he didn’t press his lips against mine; disappointed I didn’t get to taste his mouth.
I bit down on my bottom lip to stop the pout from forming as he climbed back into his huge truck. He revved the engine and then leaned out of the window. He told me, "I’m going to a party Friday night. 763 King Arthur Drive. Please come."
I shook my head and told him, "Don’t count on it."