Third period used to be my favorite for the little while I've been at Tygerwell High, but with Lynch at home and bald and nobody here to talk with me while I just stare at my canvas, I kind of dread walking there.

"Morning, Miss Sauvage," I greet my art teacher.

She looks up at me with her white hair and cryptic eyes. "That frown, I'll admit, is not going to get you anywhere," she says by way of greeting.

I sigh and walk over to where Lynch and I are usually stationed at. Miss Sauvage sets everyone into motion before shuffling over to me. She scowls at Lynch's half-done painting of her naked with a few fruit, before looking over at my canvas that's barely been started on.

"What's the matter, deary?" she asks.

I let my shoulder sag, "Lynch isn't doing to well," I confide.

Miss Sauvage nods, "Life doesn't favor anyone," she says before sitting down at where Lynch usually sits. Suddenly the crow's-feet adorning her eyes and worry lines have a story to tell.

"I know death and pain, my deary. I'm old and I don't have a family," Miss Sauvage admits.

"I'm sorry to hear that... But if I could choose, I'd rather be an awesome spinster like you than be alone with a room full of people," I admit.

Miss Sauvage shakes her head and looks back at me with these pearly-looking eyes. "I used to have a son. Lovely little fellow. I was pretty impressed with myself to have raised someone like him and he married and got kids but... A fire took out my family and I was the only one to survive..." 

My heart breaks for this old woman.

"I'm sorry to hear that..." I admit.

Miss Sauvage shakes her head again, "Don't be sorry. It's not you that brings death to this town. There isn't even anybody I can blame it on. It was a power-cut. A bloody power-cut," Miss Sauvage sighs.

She looks back at me once again with those pearly eyes before clasping her hands together and being her usual witty self, "Well, enough about the dead. You need to get that painting done, deary," Miss Sauvage says and refers to the painting of flowers and eyes peeking through.

"I'll try..." I answer.

"Try my sweet wrinkled bottom! You're absence in class is worrying, so unless you're sculpting something with those boys you hang around, I suggest you focus on your art as well. I'm guessing you want to apply for an art college?" Miss Sauvage asks.

"Yeah, but... I'm afraid I won't have much of a choice in what my future holds..."

"Nonsense! If you want to paint, then paint. If you want to travel, then travel. If you want to become a whore, then find another dream-"

I laugh at that one and Miss Sauvage's pearly eyes twinkle.

"Just tell me if those boys are bothering you, deary. Nobody will suspect poison in an old woman's cookies," she says with a wink.

I wink right back.

The rest of the period Miss Sauvage is helping, and well, insulting other kids while I stare at my canvas like the useless trash I am. When the bell rings for break, I have only a moment to be relieved before I realize I need to go continue the show.

Yay.

When I walk into the cafeteria, my role is pretty clear.

Owen sits with Sean at the twins at one side of the cafeteria and Blake steps into my way. He has this wicked smile and it sends a few chills down my spine.

"Ready for act two?" he asks in a whisper.

I look over and Tan Cam is watching this from where she and her girl squad is sitting at the table.

"Well, we haven't heard much of the North, so we still need to sell it," I say.

It's not exactly the truth, according to the message Mysterious Fucker left me in my locker. But I can't tell Blake about the unknown number just yet. If Mysterious Fucker knows I'm snooping too much, he might not help me anymore. And besides, Owen and Blake might freak out a little more than necessary if they find out I've been getting texts from some other guy.

"Come, sit by us. The East needs to lick their wounds," Blake says with a cocky smile.

"I don't want to sit by either of you," I growl.

"Stop pretending," Blake says and pulls me in close before leading me over to a table that doesn't have people sitting even near it. Blake makes me sit on his lap and I feel like a little child because he's just as tall as Owen. 

"I'm sorry about what happened in the class," Blake quietly apologizes and refers to when he kissed me.

I go all soft, because this guy I've been convinced is the world's biggest dick, that probably actually was, is apologizing for kissing me. And because we've come such a long way in such a short time, I say: "I'm not sorry".

Lighting flashes in Blake's silver eyes and then his shocked expression turns into this lazy, satisfied look.

"The West are so much better than the East," Blake says and starts stroking my upper leg in circular motions with his hand. 

I'm wearing one of my vintage skirts with the same sweater from a few days ago, so if Blake's hand goes any higher, I might be in trouble. I'm just lucky it's not Owen's weird electricity touch.

Blake has a very real effect on me, but it's more emotional than physical. With how he opened up, my heart flutters whenever he looks at me or touches me. It's been getting harder and harder to insult the guys while we've been sharing a house.

Owen hasn't really opened up like Blake and neither will he understand the loss of losing your parents as much as Blake understands it, but I can't deny how my body reacts to Owen either.

It's so confusing!

"Owen's a good actor," I comment, "he's glaring holes into your back."

"Darling, Owen's a terrible actor. If not for our agreed plan, he would've be here within a split second to try and then fail at pulling me away from you," Blake chuckles.

"Failing? You think you can beat Owen? He is a professional boxer," I remind Blake.

"We're pretty even. I just like to think that I have a little more motivation than him right now," Blake says and looks at me with those piercing silver eyes.

"Food is always my motivation," I hear Calvin say.

And then he coughs.

I suddenly realize Blake's hand is stroking a bit too high on my leg and that I've leaned in a little closer than necessary to still sell the act.

"Food is my motivation for living," I reply to Calvin.

He checks me out. "Mmm-h," he comments before getting back to eating his slice of pizza.

"Everyone has something that motivates them," Jack comments.

I whip my head towards him and narrow my eyes - hoping that the force will help me get him to confess to being Mysterious Fucker. He had to put that marigold flower into my locker this morning, I tell myself. And now he's trying to shake me off his tail.

When the bell rings and Owen looks like he could kill Blake, everyone heads back to their classes. They send me these disapproving looks - like if they could, they'd slut-shame me or something. I don't let the looks effect me, because this is all for the show and I would never really be two-timing two guys.

Everyone leaves the cafeteria, but I pull Jack to the side before he can disappear with the rest of the crowd. 

"You dropped another marigold flower in my locker with a message," I accuse and get straight to business. Jack has his usual frosty look.

"Amber, maybe you saw someone else-"

"I didn't see anyone! I just know it was you. Please, if you've been the one sending me messages, just tell me. I won't be mad. I just need to know," I beg.

Because yeah, I'm curious Amber and this has been going on for too long and... and okay, maybe I actually want to know who I've been pouring my heart out to about everything that's been bothering me.

"I'm sure whoever is sending you messages, wants their identity kept secret until the right time," Jack says.

I go really still.

"How are you not surprised that I've been getting messages?" I ask.

Jack shrugs it off, but I know inside he must be panicking because I just caught him in his own act.

"Because Blake's been getting them too. I'm a hacker, Amber. I know when my leader gets messages from unknown numbers, so the fact that you're getting, isn't much of a surprise," Jack says.

I can't help, but to let my jaw drop.

"Blake gets messages too?" I ask - feeling totally betrayed.

I thought I was, I don't know, maybe a bit special? God, I sound self-centered when I say that, but... But I've confided to so many secrets... And he's just... Just talking to someone else as well?

"For about two months now," Jack says.

Great. He's been getting the messages longer than me.

"And what do these messages say?" I ask - hoping that maybe it's a different unknown number.

"They usually tell him where to be. They've saved his sorry ass a few times too. And, well... They sort of led him to you too," Jack explains.

An immediate weight gets lifted off my shoulders, just as another one nestles back on. I can scratch Jack off of my suspect list, because Mysterious Fucker wouldn't give me such valuable information, but now there's the problem of why is Mysterious Fucker helping both me and Blake?

And what if Jack is just telling me these things to throw me off his tail?

"I've got to go now," Jack says and before I can tell him he's keeping his frosty butt right here, he's gone.

Dammit.

The rest of the day goes by uneventful. I realize that I suck at Chemistry, I have no idea what's happening in Math class and all day I've just been doodling the three pictures Mysterious Fucker had drawn on his note.

A noose, a circle with a line through it, and a legal hammer-thingy.

What could it mean?

At second break, I decide I really can't act right now and quickly disappear to the locker rooms to sit like a loner and wait for the last period to arrive. Slowly, I dress into my gym clothes and before Rude Jude walks in to dress as well, I duck and dive out of there.

The coach is waiting in the gym as usual when everyone is finally in the gym.

"Today, we're doing defense classes," the coach says.

His ears actually turn red when he looks at Owen before looking back to the rest of us. "The school thinks it's important to teach you kids the uh, necessary skills to uhm, defend yourself in case... someone... attacks you," the coach says.

He's so referring to the gangs and since Owen's here, I'm actually feeling sorry for the poor guy.

"You can pick your own partners," the coach adds.

I'm about to walk over to Rude Jude and tell her we should partner up, because I really feel like kicking her teeth in, but before I can, Owen taps me on my shoulder.

"I think we need to show these kids how it's done," he says with a smile.

I smile right back.

"You really want to get your ass kicked in front of everyone?" I ask with a pout. Owen scowls before taking a step back and lowering into a fighting stance. He kicks off his shoes and locks eyes with me.

"You owe me big time for that scene I had to endure during first break," he says.

"And you, Jealous Coaty, need to get over yourself," I shoot back. "Besides, I've got the advantage," I say with a wicked grin.

"And what's that?" Owen asks.

I tie my hair back with an elastic and drop my jacket before kicking off my shoes and lowering into a fighting stance as well.

"I'm irresistible," I say and flip my ponytail back before blowing Owen a kiss.

Owen quickly grabs the kiss and presses it to his heart before smiling back at me. 

"You know what, Goldy? You're right. You're too gorgeous for me to fight," he says. "I think it's only fair for me to even out the playing field," he adds before doing something that sends all the girls swooning.

He pulls off his gym shirt and chucks it to the side - revealing his stunning eight-pack that I've only drooled at from afar during his boxing match that one time. With his coats, it's easy for Owen to hide the wide shoulders and ripped body he has.

I make sure I'm not actually drooling, and instead put on a face of indifference.

"You're still getting your ass kicked," I mumble.

"Oh, kinky," Owen smirks.

And then the fight begins.

Hey goldies!

The Wattys has a poetry category this year and well, I really do love writing poetry. I've been thinking to start a poetry book, but I want your opinion first.

The title will be: 'Put it on my tombstone', and it'll be a series of poetry that actually follows in a story of what killed this girl. 

Sneak peak:

So put it on my tombstone
How much you loved me to the bone
How you can't believe I've actually died
How much you've wailed and cried

So put it on my tombstone
How you never had time to phone
How you didn't notice I wasn't at school
How little you cared, because  you were cool

So put it on my tombstone
How I stood in a crowd, but was still alone
How I told you of the darkness and disease
How you said it was no worse than a sneeze

Engrave, carve, scribble, paint or draw
Make sure it's there, when I am no more.

***

How did y'all like that? You think I can make the book? Please let me know, because I don't want to write a book and then everyone thinks it's stupid or it doesn't get reads. *nervous laughter*

Love y'all!!

PS: Support new writers out there! lily_2808 also needs some love from all my goldies.

~ Holly Shmit