Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Suck my Kiss ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

The January morning is freezing as I step outside, and I tuck my nose behind the scarf I'd wrapped hastily around my neck before running out the door. Balancing my purse and binder awkwardly on my hip as I slam it behind me, I turn my head back to take in the sleepy neighbourhood. My poor excuse of a car is parked in the driveway, its red paint chipped, tires worn and bumpers rusty. The snow from the previous night has settled along the windshield, and I grimace at the thought of scraping the ice from it.

 

I'm careful as I make my way down the steps—slipping once or twice on the uneven pavement, coated with a fresh layer of ice. A light snowfall drifts down from the sky, making the already treacherous path to my car even more difficult. I manage to skitter to an uneven stop by the door, fingers grabbing onto the side-view mirror for balance. The metal is so cold it burns my hand, and once I'm steady, I yank it back with vehemence. Sucking on my thumb, I try not to pout as I lift my eyes back up to the road. The sun has yet to rise, and I can only see a few cars drifting down the lane through the fog. I fumble with my keys, yank open the door and drop inside onto the seat.

 

It takes me a second to get going after that, and dumping my things into the passenger seat, I gingerly grab the scraper and slip back out of the car. The wind is harsh, and I tuck the scarf back up around my face to protect from the cold, ignoring the way my fingertips numb as I hastily and messily scrape the ice and snow off my windshield. I get the job done; not professional, but it will do. I'm eager to throw everything down and turn the heat on. The denim covering my thighs is already ice cold, and my skin under it burns unpleasantly.

 

Of course the heat doesn't start working until I pull into the student parking lot of my high school. The engine stutters threateningly, and stalls right as I get to my designated spot. I mumble a curse as I stuff my keys into my pocket, grab my purse and binder, and angrily kick my door open. The door groans in protest, and I shiver as I step back out into the blistering cold. Other students file miserably up to the entrance, heads ducked against the wind, shoulders hunched, much like mine. When I get inside, the heat is like a blast in the face, and collective sighs of relief surround me. Despite being warm now, nobody looks happy to be here though. I don't blame them.

 

I'm a morning person, and even I had a hard time pulling myself out of bed today. Christmas Holidays were far too short, and on a day like this, who wants to venture out into the cold? As my hands thaw, I yank my cell phone out of my pocket and idly scroll through my text messages. It's not hard to manoeuvre out of the way of oncoming students—years of practice—and when I come to my locker, I pull up the most recent text.

 

Where r u? - Terra.

 

I grimace. Snatching my lock, I spin the combination with little difficulty and yank open the door. Depositing my jacket inside as well as tugging my scarf from around my neck, I thread my fingers through my dark hair before exhaling. Staring at myself in the small magnetic mirror I'd tacked to the door at the beginning of the year, I frown at my reflection. Fair skin, borderline pasty, with pale grey eyes, and a mouth that constantly seems to pout. Shadows under my eyes from lack of sleep, recently, due to bad dreams, and my eyebrows drawn down together in an expression of mild discontent.

 

“Way to ignore me.”

 

I whirl around, my eyes catching a glimpse of a silhouette in the mirror. Standing behind me with her hands on her hips is my best friend, Terra Evans. Polar opposites in appearance, she is tall and lanky while I'm short and on the softer side. Her features are angular, and her expression is one of mock offence. Finely shaped eyebrows lifted, she slides her arms across her chest, tilts her head and looks at me expectantly. I brush a lock of hair out of my face and our eyes meet. Hers are dark, inquisitive as if to say “and why haven't you been answering my texts?”

 

“I just got inside,” I respond defensively to her accusation, and she leans on my locker as I turn back to the mirror. Hastily trying to fix my wind-blown hair, I continue. “It's freezing outside, and I woke up late and couldn't find my gloves so I waited until I got inside before checking my phone.”

 

“Right,” Terra nods, agreeing with the excuse I feed her. Her eyes are disbelieving though as I shut my locker, and shouldering my purse I turn and offer her a big, fake smile.

 

“Ready to face the day?”

 

“Are you?”

 

I shrug, glancing around as other students mill about the hallways. None of them look happy to be here, and it reflects my feelings exactly. Terra whips out her schedule and snatches mine to see which classes we have together. As she squeals and then pouts, I sort of drift off into my thoughts. Although the hallways are bright and I'm surrounded by people and noisy chatter, I can't shake the uneasy feeling that something is going to happen today. Something bad.