Page 7 of Linebacker
I get to my feet, grab my bag, and slip on my old worn shoes before bursting out of the front door and out into the morning sun.
“Happy fucking birthday to me,” I shout out once I’m far enough from the house and no one is around to hear my outburst.
School is not where I need to be today, but I’ll be damned if I’ll make my father aware of that. All of my exams are complete, so I only need to be there on the last day. But the thought of having to spend more time at home is unbearable. Instead, I make my way to Windy’s and the only person who will want to celebrate and acknowledge the significance of today. And the person who will help me find a way to get my night at the school prom and ultimately my revenge.
CHAPTER7
Iwait until nine in the evening, the time we always retire to our respective rooms for the night. Father’s rules. Up before 7 am. Bed by 9 pm. He’s a stickler for it.
Most of the time when I’m in my room I read or find an NFL game to watch on my phone until I drift off to sleep. But tonight, I’m slipping out of the window with my backpack full to bursting, dressed all in black like a cat burglar.
Once I’m a safe distance from the house, I jog towards school. The dance started at 7 pm but is due to go on until 11 pm, so although I’ll be arriving late, it will still give me plenty of time to put my plans into action.
They hold the prom in the huge sports hall and when I get to the front of the school, much to my dismay there’s a group of students all dressed up in gowns and suits hanging around the entrance.
“Ah fuck,” I curse under my breath as I hold back in the shadow of the extensive building, so I’m not seen. I wait for a while hoping that they are going to move back inside, but time is ticking away, and I need to get going.
A loud bang sounds out behind me, that seems to be coming from further down the side of the building, I creep towards it, expecting to see someone making out or something. What I find is one of the fire doors propped open with an old brick and the ground littered with butt ends. There’s a distinct smell of cannabis lingering in the air. Their bad conduct had just saved my skin and given me an alternative way into the building.
Once I’ve slipped through the door undetected, I make my way towards the far end of the corridor that runs toward the front entrance. Halfway down there’s a storeroom where the caretaker keeps his stuff. Ladders, buckets, the usual shit. It’s the perfect place for me to change and stash my bag. I jimmy the locks in no time at all and hurry inside.
It doesn’t take me long to switch out of my black clothing and replace them with a red, fitted dress, and matching shoes I have stashed in my backpack. The fabric of the dress clings to my body, especially my tits and arse. The hem is short and barely covers my decency. The five-inch heels make my legs appear to be super long. The extra few inches in height also gives me the confidence and sass that I need to pull this off.
With the tiniest of mirrors, I add a little drama to my appearance. Smokey eyes, eyeliner that goes all the way over my eyelids and then tapers to a line that makes my eyes seem more cat like. My eyelashes are naturally long and thick, but I enhance them a little more with black mascara. Peachy, pink blush and a deep red lip colour complete the look. The final touch is a platinum blonde wig from Windy’s collection. The straight as a die fringe, and the poker straight bob, that rests just past my jawline, couldn’t be more different from my usual almost black, long and unruly natural hair. I gasp at my reflection it the tiny mirror. I look so different. I can’t deny that, with the way the dress hugs my body and the dark, sultry make-up that I would never have pulled off if it wasn’t for Windy’s patient instruction and a couple of YouTube tutorials, I feel sexy as fuck.
After I stash my bag in the storeroom’s corner, I slip back out into the corridor and make my way to the sports hall.
When I get to the entrance of the room, the first thing I see is the large black and white archway made of balloons. No doubt where the photographer would have taken the customary photo of all the coupled-up pupils as they’d arrived. How vomit inducing. Another bonus to turning up late is the photographer has done his job and gone. Well, it’s not like the school would pay for him to hang around any longer than necessary, especially at the risk of him catching less than savoury pictures once the night moved on and the kid’s got rowdy.
It’s amazing how the hall has been transformed for the event. The walls are covered with alternating white and black silky fabric from top to bottom. The ceiling has been given the same treatment, only they’ve draped the fabric like sails, making the entire room seem like a giant monochrome Arabian tent. A glitter ball that sits slap bang in the centre of the ceiling is a little understated and I can’t help but think a chandelier would have been more fitting.
Glossy tiles cover the floor like an enormous chest board keeping in line with the black and white theme to the party. Balloon displays in the same colours are placed in each corner and around the edge of the room along with tables and chairs. Some are taken, some empty. A couple of dozen single balloons mingle amongst the gyrating bodies that are already on what seems to be the nominated dance area. Everyone looks to have stuck with the colour dress code, but not me.
In this instance, I want to stand out from the crowd. Besides, I’ve never been the type to dress in the latest fashion. I’ve always looked different from the rest, even if it had made me a target for the bullies. Me, I’m more Rock Chick than It Girl. That’s when I’m not forced into dressing in chintzy old people’s clothes and I get to be me.
They are all sheep, and it proves my point when one by one, their heads turned to the girl in the red dress. Even though my nerves are as jumpy as the rapid beat of the music, I walk towards the drinks table to the left of the dance floor which takes me past some of the busier tables, with all the poise and confidence of a catwalk model.
It’s clear by the looks of some of them that not all the drinks that have been consumed tonight have been as per the no alcohol rules. That, along with the pot smoking, benefits me as it’s clear that none of them seem to recognise me. Exactly what I was banking on.
After grabbing a drink from the makeshift bar, I scope out the room looking for my first target. There she is, Mia Falls and my luck is in, she’s stood at the edge of the dance floor by herself watching and laughing at a couple of her friends doing slut drops on very unsteady legs. I walk over to her and tap her lightly on the shoulder.
“Hey, are you Mia?” I shout, trying to make myself heard over the noise of the music.
“Yes,” she twists to face me with a smile which quickly drops and is replaced with straight lips and raised eyebrows. “Who are you?”
“I’m Alfie’s cousin. Don’t tell anyone, but he snuck me in,” I offer, giving her a pleading look. “Anyhow, he asked me to tell you to go to the boys’ changing rooms. I think that’s what he said.” I shrug my shoulders and nibble my finger that’s resting against my bottom lip, then pull it back so she doesn’t notice the half-chewed nail. It’s not like it goes in line with the rest of my disguise and I hardly had time to stick on any falsies now, is it?
“He said if you wait there, he’ll meet you as soon as he can get away.”
“Really?” she beams back at me, a wave of guilt washes over me for involving her. But hey-ho, she is doing the dirty with her best friends’ boyfriend. The next minute she has her arms wrapped around me, hugging me. “Thanks, and don’t worry, I won’t say a word about you being a gate crasher.” Jesus, I’m such a bitch and for a second, I consider telling her it’s all a lie. But only for a second.
“Thanks,” I reply releasing myself from her hold. “Now go, otherwise you might miss him.”
As soon as her back has disappeared out of the room, I hunt down Bell hoping that he hasn’t got his girlfriend, Trudy, hanging around him like an unpleasant smell. I strike lucky again when I find a group of the football team and as predictable as always, Bell is playing centre stage to them all. As soon as he sets eyes on me, a mischievous smile plays on his lips. At first, I think he’s recognised me, but when he swaggers over to me. It’s then that I realise it must be his attempt at a flirty smile.
Catastrophic failure.
How the hell did this fucker manage to snag girls like Trudy and Mia. Yes, they might be A-typical popular girls and have their heads up their own arses, but no one could ever deny that they’re both gorgeous.
