Status: Attackative

Frostbite

Dis Bitch

"Shitshitshitshitshit." I mumbled to myself as I swung open the front door and bound up the stairs, three at a time.

"Shit shit shiiiiiit." Lee's voice floated out of Clary's room. This taking by surprise, I momentarily forgot my urgent mission to get to practice on time and poked my head into Clary's room. Lee, who was wrapped around my sister as she placed her fingers on the correct strings of a guitar, smiled and sang out every word. "Mini's back."

"Lee? Why are you here? And why are you raping my sister? I mean, if anyone was to rape her I'm glad it'd be you, but I'm obligated to ask."

"I'm teaching her how to play the guitar." She sang.

"Then why are you singing?" I sang back to her, slightly confused. I've heard them practice once or twice before, and Clary completely sucked, but I don't see how this new singing tactic was going to help her shitty cords.

"Grah! No no no!" Finally letting go of Clary, she went back to normal talking and she covered her ears."You sound worse than Clary! And Kade sounds better than her! God, I wish I had a friend who could I harmonize with! You guys are terrible!"

"Hey." Clary said, a hand raised in defense. "Kade is a huge freaking dog, it's the fear of him that fucked up your hearing. I sound like a angel." She pointed to herself, then me. "He sounds like someone left their dick down his throat and he can't cough it back up."

"At least," I started after a pause to let Lee's laughing die down. "I get dick. Unlike you who spends every night sitting in there room turning into a full blown.... what's the word? Ah, right. *Otaku."

Clary's jaw dropped open and closed, over and over, as she fumbled for words. "Oh, poop this crap!" She finally yelled as she threw up her hands. "Don't you have a practice to get to!?"

"Shitshitshit." Rushing out of the room and into mine, I was faced with the only challenge that I was ever hesitant in thinking I could win. Kade sat there in the middle of the room, stick firmly under him as he bared his teeth at me.

"You want a fight?" I asked him, bending down to his level. "Bitch, I will bite your furry little head off. Lets go."

- - -


Fuck this fucking shit and his fucking mouth and his fucking shitty temper and his goddamn fucking rules. Who the fuck cares if I show up ten minutes late? That's sooner than I usually show up and that doesn't give you the fucking right to blow the fuck up like I'm your fucking bitch you little fucking slut-fuck cunt.

I tried to tell Coach as much, but was stopped by Nate and instructed to take it out on the ice. Which is exactly what I did. Though, it may have been a bit unnecessary to trip Aaron and fling the puck at Coach's groin, but I regret nothing. Even after I got shouted at again, the normal years-old-threats of being kicked off the team went in one ear and out the other, and I was made to pick up the equipment again, I still inwardly laughed at his earlier pain.

Gathering as much crap as I possibly could, I headed to the locker room to drop it all and change. As I pulled a dryer-shrunk black T-shirt on, I caught Alberto's look of conflicted emotions. Mostly anger, though.

"What crawled up his ass?" I asked Nathan. Maybe someone else' misery could beet down the anger that's constantly clawing under my skin, especially after practice.

Holding up a hand to shut Nathan up, Alberto then pointed to him and started making hand motions like a black girl's. "Dis bitch thinks I need cultural! I am a Asian kid named Alberto being raised by German and Haitian parents. I think I am cultural enough."

"I said you needed culture. Saying you need cultural doesn't make sense."

"Oh! Now dis bitch going to correct my dialect!" He shouted at Nathan followed him out of the room. "What da fuck do you think you are?"

The scene was enough to put me in a good mood as I headed back to the ice to pick up the stuff I'd forgotten. Well, that and Marilyn Manson freaking in my ears. Who in their right mind would get on Alberto about cultural shit? I mean, no, he's as cultural as..... he's just not cultural. His favorite food is burgers and he thinks that the whole world uses dollars and twenties. But his temper is worse than mine when it comes to stuff like that.

Approaching the ice, I saw something that angered me in the most delightful way possible. The familial figure of Micajah glided across the ice. Maybe it was the humor that made me stop and watch, but I certainly didn't regret the time spent. He moved drunkenly in the most fluent way possible, spun uncontrollably more graceful than swan, darted across the ice spastically agilely.

And Landed oh so heavenly on the cold hard ice.

I had to stand there and laugh for a little while, how could I not? I mean, this 'graceful' bitch planted his sorry ass right on the ice, what kind of figure skating is this? I know it's a shitty sport, but if you're going to play it you could at least be decent.

But, when he just kinda hopped on his ass on the ice, I stopped laughing. My first instinct was to walk out onto the ice and see if he was okay, but why? Why should I help him? He hasn't done anything for me, he doesn't even like me. This kid, who made me watch hours of ice skating, made me think something as cliche and sissy as 'more graceful than a swan', had me compared to him by my best friend, and was enough of a stuck up bitch to push me while I was working, was sitting in the middle of the ice injured in need of help.

After that second of hesitation, I jogged out to the middle of the ice where the fallen bastard lay, ripping out my ear buds as I approached. Squatting down next to him, I looked out over the empty ice, noting the lack of people. People had come accustomed to waiting a bit to show up, encase the hockey team was still here.

"Soo-" I started, immediately cut off.

"Shut up." Micajah ordered, already annoyed.

What the fuck is wrong with this kid? I came out here to help him, and he immediately gets bitchy with me, like it's my fault he has shitty balance. What the fuck kind of ungrateful bitch is this, thinking he can just act like the whole fucking world is there to please his sorry ass and he can just order people around. He's not a fucking king, and even if he was, he could shove the goddamn crown up his ass.

I forced on a smile, trying to swallow my anger. "I came out to help you."

He looked up at me boredly. "Is this the part when you start ripping off your shirt to bid my wounds?"

"If you wanted me to tear my cloths off, you should have just asked."

He rolled his eyes, managing to look even more snobby than he sounded. "You'd just strip for anyone, wouldn't you." He snorted. "I guess I should have expected that from you."

I stood up straight, tempted to walk off. "Look, do you want help or not? I have no problem with just leaving you here until your ass freezes to the ice. In fact, I'd much rather do the latter." I shrugged. "But reveling in your misery isn't enough consolation to make me want to endure what Lee would have to say."

Sighing, he stretched his neck up and gave me the most fake smile I'm ever seen. "Yes, that would be wonderful."

Smiling at him, I said "Now there's the lovely boy I've grown to know and resent." Then reached down to grab his waist and hoisted him over my shoulder like a duffel bag. The movement was a bit too rough due to my overestimate of his weight, and pulled a grunt from his throat.

"So fucking gentle. " He gritted into my ear.

"Oh, you want to be carried like a princes? So demanding." I hooked my left arm under both of his and slung his legs up into my right. He winced a little, bit didn't make any notable sound. "Happy?"

"Jackass."

"Actually, I prefer pancakes over waffles."

"What?" He looked up at me through knotted brown hair, for a second actually looking cute before the fact that he was a complete conceded ass came back to mind. "I said nothing about breakfast food."

"Have you seen Shrek? Everyone has seen Shrek. My god, you poor, poor, untalented, deprived, balance-less, skinny, pale child."

"That was not needed." He almost growled at me, face twisting back into a angry expression.

I laughed and headed to the locker room were I'd left my stuff. It was warmer back here and left less room for frostbite. Not that either of us would get it, especially with the way he was curled up in my arms like Kade when I'm moving him, but I'd be more comfortable.

After a bit of.... polite small talk, a call to his uncle/coach, and a amateur assessment of his knee, Jennie came bursting through the door.

"Micajah Stevens!" She yelled, causing me to jump up and Micajah, who was leaning against my back, to fall onto the wooden bench. "Are you okay? Can you walk? No, don't walk, you might hurt your knee worse. Micajah, what happened, I can't beli-"

"You!" A enraged voice thudded against the walls, reminding me of a pissed off cop. A young looking brunette man with a field of stubble covering his face stormed across the room and jabbed a finger at my chest. "This is your fault. You should have done your fucking job and made sure the ice was clear. It's not enough to give my nephew shit for his sport on a daily basis, but you had to go and injure him too!? What the hell do you have to say for yourself?"

A novel of responses ran through my head, but I quickly gathered that I was, in fact, talking to an adult. No matter how mad his statement and accusations made me, disrespect would solve nothing here.

"I imagine you to be a very attractive man when you aren't yelling at." I said plainly.

He looked at me for a moment, confused, then rage once again took over his face and he spun around, walked a few steps away, and gripping the bridge of his nose. "God, I feel bad for him, he has to deal with this brat." He mumbled to himself.

"I am sorry, Sir." I said after we'd both taken a few deep breaths, Jennie buzzing around a calm, almost amused looking, Micajah the whole time. "I didn't intend for it to happen, I was on my way to pick up what was left on the ice. If it's any help, I cou-"

He held up a hand to silence me, making my fists clench at my sides. What kind of bitch is he, treating me like a fucking dog. I'm not a goddamn animal, no matter how much he currently wanted to beat me or spray me with water.

"I don't want to hear it." The brown haired bitch announced. "Jennie, get his stuff and put it in my car. You." He pointed at me, almost menacingly. "Pick him up and follow me."

For fear of something less than friendly coming out of my mouth, I simply smiled, walked over to Micajah, and lifted him up princess style.

"Benjamin-" He started in a reasoning tone of voice.

"Don't." I managed through clenched teeth.

"Benjamin, you're so mad you're shaking."

"Shut up. Just shut up."

He mumbled something under his breath but kept quiet until we reached his uncle's car. He was standing there, snapping his figures as if I wasn't carrying his injured nephew and should have ran. Just one more reason to hate figure skaters. Their coaches are worse than mine.
♠ ♠ ♠
*Otaku- Someone who stays at home all the time and doesn't have a life, sometimes used for people engrossed in/obsessed with anime or manga. A very negative connotation.

Guys, I'm on time, I'm on time! How awesome is this!?
Haha, I'm getting better!

JessicStar
Ashley the Twisted
Do you guys love me more! I updated on time! I would say you guys drive me but that'd only be half true. Nicole's constant bitching kind shoves me, but your guys' awesomeness gently nudges me and it's much more enjoyable! Think perverted and that last sentence will be much more enjoyable to.