- Really? Was that supposed to frighten me?
- I may not intimidate you now, as you make it sound, but I assure you that the word "prison" must pass through your mind right now.
- What do you mean by that? - she swallows dry holding her breath.
- I mean, if you ever threaten Brooke or anyone else because of that idiot again, I'll make sure the most miserable jail gets your pretty face. - I take a break, turning her over to face me. - You bet your daddy ain't gonna get you or any of them out of there.
- Keep pointing this thing at me and you'll be the one who's gonna end up behind bars. - she smiles in a threatening way.
I'll let out a cold laugh.
- I doubt it very much! - the smile dies on her lips. - My best friend is a cop, so I'd love to see her try something.
Tiffany widens her eyes and, snorting, begins to breathe quickly. I didn't like to include Casey in my problems, but in the case of those assholes, I'd make an exception - she was the best cop in New York and also in Boston. She was sweet to my mother, but for some reason, my Uncle Ryan didn't like her. They didn't tolerate each other forever and lived the turras.
- You guys are so pathetic! - I say shaking my head. - You're nothing but a neurotic, jealous whore while you're all bothered, because you thought Brooke would act like a puppy behind you. What's the matter? Are you sorry?
- Jealous, Taylor? - Aron tries to provoke and I'll let out a laugh.
- If I had to be jealous or jealous of someone, it wouldn't be you. - I'll take a break. - Brooke is much more than a follower of your gang. She has intelligence and emotions that you or anyone on this campus will never understand.
Aron smiles coldly, masking the fear he feels. My desire was to blow his face off even more, but I remember the reason that brought me there and I breathe deeply.
- Don't mess with me or my friends or Mr. Benedict will have two strikers and one less player in the team. - I say in a cold voice. - I'd hate to deprive the team of their stars.
I look at the girls, staring at them with threatening eyes.
- That'll do for any one of you, too. - threatening to point to the dagger. - I don't think Mrs MacMarrowth will like having three of her beautiful girls, unable to cheer on account of a broken leg. I'd hate to see that sad little face for not being able to set up a pyramid.
I watch as everyone looks at me with fear stamped on my face. Aron rosna, while I maintain my position and then face his friends. The girls blink like Tiffany and walk away, grabbing Bruce and Shaine by the arms.
Still angry, I grab Tiffany's hair, which screams scared. Aron takes a step forward, but I'll put the dagger out and he'll back off. Then I whisper in her ear, with coldness.
- A little gift for you not to forget my words.
She looks at me confusingly and I smile coldly before looking at Aron and kissing Tiffany's lips, biting hard. She's screaming at me as Aron runs towards me. I pull the dagger again, pointing in the direction of Aron, which stops immediately. Then I let Tiffany go with a push.
- Just like any of the piranhas I've ever climbed with. - I say smiling with disdain. - It doesn't taste like anything at all, so you're nothing but garbage, even though it's not even good for recycling.
Tiffany looks at me with hatred, passing the back of her right hand over her mouth, now with the red lipstick, all blurry. I keep the dagger back in the bar of my pants. Satisfied, I leave smiling coldly, leaving the gang with a perplexed and terrified face. Taking a deep breath, heading back to the parking lot. I intended to get the bike and go to Brooke's apartment, but before that I had attended classes for her and I would stop at a restaurant after I left.
Around six, I find Jane in front of the building where she lives with Brooke. She rings the doorbell, pretending to have left the key at home. I stop behind her, hiding my face with the packet of soup I'd bought. Brooke opens the door without looking to see who was coming in, because he was talking on his cell phone. Apparently, the conversation wasn't very pleasant. He walked right in behind Jane, looking around. Brooke wore a sweatshirt pants, yellow with black bands, cotton shirt, which left his navel to show, with the phrase I Love NY written. Soon I can imagine a piercing in that small, delicate navel. Brooke was barefoot, with his hair caught in a tangle of curls, falling from all sides. I close the door with my foot and place the package on a table in the American kitchen that they had. Jane stays quiet and goes to the kitchen to unpack everything. I stand there with the most serious face I own, while Jane smiles at one, very distracted, Brooke.
She hadn't turned over yet, standing on the counter that
