Surviving the Sway Boys by Twilight Sparkle (ebook reader .txt) 📕

"I don't mind." Will looks to be relieved at my response.

"Okay. Good. I don't know why I was nervous about your response. I don't know. I guess it's because you don't seem like a rule follower." I raise a questioning eyebrow at the end of his sentence. 

"I don't seem like a rule follower? How in the world did you come to that questionable conclusion?", I ask him.

"Well...I'm not exactly sure how I came to that conclusion. I guess that's how I saw you after you mercilessly flipped Delance for trying to hug you." Will shrugs at the end of his "explanation". 

"Awe come on! Do we really have to bring this up at DINNER!?!", Delance yells.

"Of course. It was funny.", Will says.

"Yeah, dude. You do realize that we will never let you live that down right?", Martin says.

"But WHY?"

"Because it's not every day that you see a guy get flipped by a girl. It's a rare right actually. Damn, now you're making me wish I was there to record it.", Asher says.

"UGH! My life is over!", Delance yells. 

"Dude, you sound like every girl when she realizes the guy she likes likes another girl or is gay.", Brandon says. 

"That's not true.", I say. Every head turns to look at me, and I immediately regret opening my big mouth. 

"How is it not true sweetheart?", Sam asks me. My face heats up when he calls me sweetheart again. 

"It's not true because not every girl is the same." I inwardly smirk when my voice comes out even and steady.

"I'm pretty sure all girls are the same.", Sam says.

"NO! That is invalid. There are 4 types of girls." I hold up four fingers on my left hand and put my right pointer finger on my left pointer finger.

"One, girls that cake makeup on their faces and sleep with every guy in the school." I put my left pointer finger down and put my right pointer finger on my left index finger.

"Two, girls who don't sleep with every guy, use a fair amount of makeup, and fangirls over the guys they like." I put my left index finger down and put my right pointer finger on my left ring finger. 

"Three, girls that are complete nerds/geeks, care about their grades, almost never wears makeup, and spends most of their time studying for tests that are in a month." I put my left ring finger down and put my right pointer finger on my pinky finger. 

"And four, girls who don't care about their appearance, grades, or what people think of them. They have some friends, but they prefer to be alone." I put my pinky finger down.

"I think you're the first type of girl you listed.", Bradley says. 

"EXCUSE ME!?!", I yell.

"Well I mean, look at what you're wearing. The first type of girl you listed is basically a slut. What you're wearing right now makes you look like a slut. I wouldn't be surprised if you banged half the guys at your old school, and maybe a few girls as well if you swing both ways.", Bradley says. I. Cannot. Believe. That. He. Just. SAID THAT! My face heats up but not with blush, with anger. I start breathing rapidly, and if I sit here any longer I think I'm going to snap Bradley's neck. I stand up so fast that my chair falls backward onto the floor. Looking at the boys faces my anger turns to sadness. He's right. I do look like a slut right now. I didn't bang anybody at my old school, though. I'm still a virgin. I've never even had a boyfriend.

I don't say anything to anybody. I just run out of the dining room, up the stairs and straight to my room. Once I'm safely in my room I go straight to my closet. I pick out some sweats and a baggy hoodie with a Uindy symbol on the front. I don't bother going to the bathroom. I just change in my closet. Once I'm changed, I step outside my closet, close the door, and put my dirty clothes in the hamper in my bathroom.

I look in the mirror and at the makeup on my face. There isn't a lot. Just some mascara, eyeliner, and a faint blush. I don't use foundation or concealer. I grab my makeup bag, that I stored in the cabinet under the sink, and pull out my makeup remover wipes. I remove all the makeup off my face and put my hair into a loose ponytail, that I tuck into my hoodie. When I look in the mirror now, all I see is a broken girl's eyes staring back at me. I don't see her face, her clothes, or anything else. I only see her eyes. Her shattered, broken eyes. 

I splash cold water on my face to bring some color back into my face. Hot water takes color out of my face. Cold water puts color back into my face. Don't ask me why this is. Not even I know. When a satisfying amount of color has taken place on my face, I dry my face and walk out my room.

 When I reach the doors to the dining room the butler moves to open the doors for me. I put my hand up signaling for him to wait, and he does. On the other side of the doors, the boys are laughing, and joking, and making fun of each other. Being a family. I look at the butler and nod for him to open the doors. He does, and immediately all boys eyes turn to me. 

I don't look anyone directly in the eye. I walk to my seat silently and sit down. It's eerily silent in the room. As if they were expecting me to blow up and start yelling at any second. 

After a couple minutes, the chef brings me my plate. Today's dinner is lasagna since that's what's on my plate. I pick up my fork and put the smallest amount of lasagna possible on the fork. I put the lasagna in my mouth. I have to admit, this tastes really good. Sadly, I'm not that hungry anymore.

It's still dead silent in the room and it's getting extremely uncomfortable. 

"You guys can go back to your conversations. Don't let the slut stop you.", I whisper so softly, that I don't even know if they actually heard me. 

"Faith-", Will starts to talk, but I cut him off.

"-no really. It's fine. You don't have to try to convince me that I'm not a slut." I could feel the tears start to form. 

"I mean. It's not like I'm a virgin. It's not like I've never had a boyfriend in my life. It's not like I've never kissed a guy, never been touched anywhere, never been hugged by anyone but my parents." My voice cracks noticeably when I say, parents. The tears are threatening to fall, but thankfully I hold them back. 

It's silent again so I risk a glance upwards. Most of the boys have left the table, which is probably why it's so damn quiet in here. Only Will, Sam, and I are still sitting at the table. Will is still eating, and Sam is just sitting there. I'm too lazy, and emotionally and physically drained to move my ass.

After Will is finished eating, he gets up and leaves the table with barely a glance in my direction. When Will leaves the room, Sam speaks. 

"I don't think you're a slut. I didn't even think you looked like a slut, to be honest with you." I look up and see a boyish grin plastered on Sam's face. I return it with a weak smile.

"Thanks."

"You're most indefinitely welcome."

Sam still doesn't move. He just sits there grinning at me. It's getting kind of creepy.

"Not trying to be rude or anything, but why are you still sitting here?"

"Well, I have to wash the dishes today. I lost a race between me, Jackson, and Martin." He shrugs as if it's no big deal. 

"Could I...Can I..." I take a deep breath and start again.

"Would it be a problem if I washed dishes with you?", I ask. Sam stares at me for a moment before breaking out into another ear-splitting laugh.

"Of course you can wash dishes with me, sweetheart. Why-why did you think I would have a problem with that?", he asks.

"I don't know.", I admit. I sheepishly look up at Sam's face to be met with an ear to ear boyish grin.

Sam takes my hand, grabs the plate that Will left on the table and directs me to the kitchen. Once we're in the kitchen, Sam puts the plate in the sink and turns around to face me. 

"So, how are we going to do this? Are you washing and I'm drying or am I washing and you're drying?", he asks me. I shrug.

"I'm cool with whatever. You assign." Sam's grin widens even more if possible.

"Alright then, I wash you dry." I look into his eyes and see an unrecognizable emotion in them.

"Okie dokie lokie.", I say.

"Okie...dokie...lokie?", Sam repeats slowly while raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Yes. Okie dokie lokie. Is there a problem?" 

"No no no. No problem here whatsoever. No.", Sam replies quickly. I smile.

"Alright, then these dishes aren't going to wash themselves are they?"

"No, they're not.", I reply. I walk over to the dishes, take the dishes out of the sink, and start the water, whilst putting the stopper in the sink. I organize all the dishes on the side of the sink while the soap water runs. When the water is high enough I shut off the water and put the dishes neatly into the sink to soak for about 5 minutes. I turn around to find Sam staring intently at me, the boyish grin still plastered on his face. It seems like he is always smiling. 

"Why are you smiling at me like that?", I ask him.

"You had this look of concentration on your face while you were prepping the dishes. Your face looked like this." Sam makes a funny face that does not represent my concentration face at all. Despite my mood and the events from dinner, I laugh. I laugh a genuine laugh, cackle, snorts and all. When I'm finally done laughing, Sam looks like he just won a Grammy. The delight in his golden eyes is present and clear. 

"What?", I ask.

"Nothing it's just, your laugh is so musical and I'm the one who made you laugh." My cheeks heat up with a familiarizing red.

"Thanks.", I mumble. 

"OKAY TIME TO WASH THE DISHES!", Sam yells. I laugh again but this time without the cackles, and the snorts and all. 

"Okay.", is all I say.

Sam shows me where the plates, cups, and silverware are put up. He stands in front of the sink, and washes the dishes, while I stand off to the right of him and dry every dish he hands to me. After I dry the dish, I put it up where it's supposed to go. When we are finished, I start to put the drying towel away when something cold hits me in the face. Sam starts laughing.

I peel the wet towel off of me and smirk. Oh, two can play this game. While Sam is busy laughing, I fill the sink with