In Love With My Neighbor

Chapter 6

Fuckingpissshit.

I had been going to high school for 2 days. 2 days!  I had sworn to be a pattern student - do my homework, listen well in class, get good grades.

And here I sat.

In the office with a vengeful Chris Hall in pain, and a very furious principal.

"I'm deeply disappointed in you, Emily," it came from him, and I looked shamefully down at the floor.

"Your second day here at school and you're already sitting in my office in trouble. You drawed Chris in the face, hid in the boys' locker room which by the way is a forbidden area for girls, and attacked him," he continued seriously.

"It was now self-defense," I tried, but the principal named Mr. Adams, furiously slammed his hand down on the table. Both me and Chris were startled and I sank down in my seat.

"I don't want to hear excuses," he continued, giving me a look that made me want to be buried alive.

"And Chris. It does not come as a surprise that you are here again," sighed Mr. Adams. The i***t was obviously a troublemaker.

Chris sent him a cheeky smile. "Also good to see you, Mr. Adams," it came from him.

"According to Emily here, you broke into her room in the middle of the night and filmed her?! And the reason she attacked you was because you were after her."

Chris opened his mouth to protest, but the principal's gaze was enough to make him close it again.

"I can not let this go unpunished," he concluded.

"As you probably know, the walls of the football field need some painting. Instead of giving you detention, your job is to get it painted. Once I have approved it, you must go," said Mr. Adams.

I moaned and took my head between my hands. My parents would not be happy when they found out about this.

"What?!" It came from Chris. "The football field is huge! It will take several hours", he complained. "I have training!"

"It's just a shame! That's how it goes when you make trouble," said Mr. Adams and got up. He signaled for us to leave, and we got up annoyed.

When we were out in the hallway,  Chris pushed me against the wall and stared angrily at me.

"This is f*****g your fault, Ross! I'm going to miss training, and my coach tolerates no excuses," he hissed.

"Hey hey, big guy," I said, trying to push him away. But he was as if locked in place, with his arms on either side of my head.

I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"Actually, it's your fault! You started it all! It was only fair I got revenge!" I pointed out.

"So if you just want to take a step back, we have a fence to paint."

He reluctantly took a step back and I walked past him, towards the football field.

"Oh, and by the way," I said. "Nice face, Hall."

Then I sprinted all I could while laughing hysterically, knowing that a very pissed Chris was right behind me.

*****

We had been standing for hours in the baking sun, and just painted and painted and painted in infinity. Never had I imagined that the fence would be so big! I had begun to doubt whether we would ever get home for dinner. In the beginning, I had been detailed, making sure all my brush strokes were straight and unidirectional. But eventually it dawned on me that I would be 90 before I finished if I kept going that way, so I switched to a new tactic.

Now it was just a matter of getting as much paint on the brush as possible at all, and then just smearing it out until there were no holes. f**k beauty. 

The i***t was standing next to me working. We hadn't actually talked that much to each other, apart from a few small comments in between. It was absolutely wonderful with that silence.

I could hear the birds singing and feel the August wind shaking in my loose hair, and the sun baking on my body. Ah, summer.

Boys had just as quietly started showing up, and I guessed they were going to training.

"Is this where you should train? ”I asked Chris as I painted.

"Yep. We have a wildly big fight against another school soon and we need all the training we can get. Because of you, we are definitely going to lose," he said annoyed.

"There's no reason to be so selfish, Hall. Just because you miss a training does not mean you lose. Football is a team sport, it's not all about you," I just said, turning to him with my hands on my hips.

"I'm the captain, Ross. The captain. It's me who makes sure we win, that we do well. So, in fact, it's all about me," he challenged, stopping painting.

"It's something you'd like to believe, but unfortunately it's not real," I exclaimed annoyed. "Your team can do 100% well even if you are not there!" I clutched the paintbrush hard in my hand and brushed hair away from my face. Chris raised an eyebrow challenging.

"Right now you're getting on my nerves a lot, Ross. I advise you to stop before it gets to yourself. For believe me, you will not want that," he threatened me with a raised brush.

"As if a little football boy could put something up against me," I snorted confidently. And that was actually true. I had beaten men who were twice as big as me, and I was sure Chris could not possibly be harder than I could handle.

There it was that I gasped loudly. On my beautiful, new t shirt there was now a big, bold blob of white paint. I could KILL that i***t.

I looked murderously up at Chris staring coldly at me.

"Your little ..." I exclaimed, dipping my brush well into the paint. With my brain full of revenge, I did not at all hear the voice enthusiastically saying "Hello frieeends" until it was too late.

With a bang, my white blob of paint had landed right in the face of Ben, who started yelling. Chris had ducked at the last minute, and the paint had instead been crashed right in the head of the poor boy who had innocently stood in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Holy s**t, I'm so sorry," I exclaimed, holding my hand to my mouth. I was so shocked that I had not noticed Chris, Philip and Patrick standing and bursting out laughing at Ben. 

With unimaginable speed, Ben threw himself at the paint bucket with a brush in his hand, and when I immediately knew what he would do, I hurried to duck. When I heard a "smack" behind me, I breathed a sigh of relief, at least it had not hit me.

I turned around, and burst out laughing at the sight of a very shocked Chris who now had paint all over his stomach.

5 minutes later we were all covered in paint from head to toe, lying and fighting against each other, in the middle of the schoolyard.

I was currently lying on Ben, holding him firmly locked while I smeared my paint's smeared hands all over his face. Patrick poured paint into my hair while Chris and Philip lay messing around in floor fighting on the ground.

It was a beautiful sight.

But all of a sudden we stopped abruptly.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

We had been discovered.