~Albert Hammond Jr., Scared {loveeeeeeee it.}

For the First Round of The Written Word! So excited and thank you @glitterinmyviens for putting me through to this round :))

So.... On with it we go!

Name: Alexander McCurry
Age: 17
Location: Torch Lake, Michigan 
Occupation (student, doctor, etc.): Student
Bio: Alexander is a charmer, a sweet boy that is hard to come by in the modern world of overwhelming jerks. He comes from the Manhattan, New York area, and so many girls love him simply for his upper crest ways. With his delectable smile, impeccable laid-back schoolboy style, and endearing words, Alexander is a good girl’s dream. Alexander is smart, but he tends to get caught up in things below him, things that have nothing to do with him. That’s what makes Alexander a boy the girls fall for; he’s proven that chivalry is not completely dead. However, Alexander never really takes these girls seriously. So most of the time, he just walks around with a grin and a helping hand, but never exactly a shoulder to cry on. Until one day when that one girl needed just a shred of hope in the form of Alexander McCurry. 
Model Chosen: Mikus Lasmanis
*** Also, I chose a model for the girl in the story, Jenny. Her model is Myf Shepherd.***

Jenny Konners sat exactly one seat behind me in Madame Renee’s class. Jenny Konners usually copied off me. Jenny Konners checked her hair in the back of her phone every day when Madame Renee was lecturing. Jenny Konners never raised her hand in class, but Madame Renee always called on her, and Jenny never knew the answer. So I fed her the answers in a soft whisper, every time. 

And that was the only time we ever spoke. Until that day.

Because Jenny Konners also had a reputation.

“I thought wh*res never got pregnant. Guess it backfired on you,” Lindsey Chandler snickered as she passed by our desks on Thursday. 

Jenny Konners, apparently, was also pregnant.

I sat in French that Thursday, internally at war with myself. I was never one to voice my opinions, but people shouldn’t be talking about Jenny like that. They didn’t have to be so rude. They didn’t have to make fun of her. They didn’t have to act like this had never happened before, like this was against our private school law. /Rich girls don’t get pregnant./

Madame Renee didn’t call on Jenny that day, so I knew she wasn’t supposed to talk to me.

But then she did.

“Hey, Alex. Can you meet me in the East Corridor five minutes after sixth period starts?” she asked as the bell rang, signaling the end of French, and usually the end of my daily dose of Jenny Konners.

“Um, sure. Okay,” I agreed. I didn’t know why.

Sixth period was Calculus and it was nowhere near the East Corridor, but I didn’t tell Jenny that. I just nodded and took off in the opposite direction when we left French. I looked over my shoulder once, and she was looking at me. I could feel the urgency in her eyes, and I knew whatever she needed me for was important. 

Two minutes into Calculus and my mind was completely numb. I couldn’t focus on derivatives and points of inflection and maximum and minimums. No, that was impossible. It was hard to even concentrate on Stephanie Wheeler’s skimpy low-cut shirt, not that I was looking. All I could think about was Jenny Konners, and why she wanted to talk to /me/ of all the people she knew, Alex from her French class. In fact, she hardly knew me at all.

Did she know I was an only child, that my parents spoiled me?

But did she also know that I worked hard for every spoilage, that I was one of the highest SAT-scorers at Brundage? Did she know I was smart in other subjects, not just le Francais? 

I bet she didn’t even know my full name was Alexander. 

She probably didn’t know I was an embarrassment to the rugby team, because I was one of the only virgins. We didn’t even have that in common. Apparently. 

“Lemme see your homework,” Braden Greyle said to me, his breath smelling of smoke and everything illegal. His eyes were half-open and red, not unlike Coach Peterson’s after a shameful loss. Everyone suspected he had some-sort of lab in his basement. 

I glanced at the clock. Four minutes in. Then I looked back at Braden. “Um, no. Sorry.”

“Come on man, that’s effing retarded,” Braden whined in a whisper as Mr. Laury passed out red ink pens. 

“I can’t,” I explained uselessly. Not that I would give my precious homework to a major stoner like him. It was a wonder he ever stayed awake during Calculus. It was a wonder he was even /in/ Calculus. 

Before he could cuss me out, a string of nasty words muttered by him daily, I hopped up from my seat and grabbed the hall pass. Mr. Laury only smiled at me as I left, because unlike Braden, I was someone to trust. Whenever Braden took the hall pass, Mr. Laury was all but ready to call the police to search his car. But of course, this was a private school and no one really cared that much. /Rich people don’t get in trouble./

I was right on schedule. Four minutes and forty-five seconds in, on my way to see Jenny Konners. I quickened my pace, finding a shortcut through the courtyard. I figured important things can’t wait. 

“Dude, MC-squared!” a voice called from the hallway behind me. I could practically see the East Corridor, could practically see Jenny Konners, when I turned around to find Lucas Sanchez grinning at me with that a*shole smile he wore everyday. 

I sighed loudly, but he obviously didn’t catch on. 

“Where’re you going?” He asked as he came toward me, wearing his stupid Office Aide lanyard. He looked me up and down. “You look like you’re in a hurry…”

“I’m just--”

“Oh, I see now,” Lucas smirked. “Going for a quickie in the janitor’s closet?”

God, I could kill him. “No.”

“You sure?” Lucas asked, reaching for the doorknob to the nearby janitorial closet. He snickered crudely, stopping short of the shiny brass knob. “Wait, she’s not like, some ugly loser is she?”

I scowled, taking a step backward. “I have to go.”

“Have fun!” Lucas called, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as I backed away. I shook my head, wishing I never knew him. But then again, it seemed like every other guy at Brundage was exactly like him. 

I looked at a passing clock, seeing I was eight minutes in, and three minutes late. Jenny Konners asked /me/ to come, and I was late. I was letting her down. I couldn’t do that, this was important. It needed to be important, just so I could know that Jenny Konners wasn’t messing with me. 

I spotted her at the end of the hallway, her back to me. I walked up slowly, careful to take caution, as I didn’t know what to expect.

Jenny turned around, her clear blue eyes finding mine. “I thought maybe you weren’t coming.”

“Yeah, sorry I just sort-of--” I felt the need to explain, but she was moving toward the bench a few feet away, ignoring me. I followed her, sitting on the edge as she folded herself into a ball, her arms resting on her knees, her head resting on her hands. She rocked a little, and I wasn’t sure I was prepared for whatever this was going to be. 

When she turned to look at me, her eyes were like glass. “Can I tell you something?” she asked, her voice breaking on nearly every syllable. 

In my mind I was saying /no, please don’t. I don’t think I’m the person you want to tell this to. I’m not very good with feelings/ but aloud I whispered, “yes.” 

She forced a faint smile. “I just need to tell someone, you know?”

I nodded. 

“Well… I don’t really know how to start, it’s just sort-of everything… God, I’m sorry,” Jenny said just as her eyes welled up with about a hundred tears and they started spilling, dripping onto her Brundage-issued blazer. She wiped the back of her hand across her face, sniffling. “I’m a freaking mess. It doesn’t help that every single b*tch in this school has to point it out.”

Still, I didn’t say anything.

“You’ve heard what they’ve been saying about me,” Jenny commented, not looking at me, but looking down the empty hallway. “But I’m not a wh*re, okay? People make up rumors and then they think it’s funny when everyone believes them.”

“I’m not a wh*re,” she repeated. She took a deep breath. “Do you know how many guys I’ve slept with?”

I refrained from blushing. “No.”

“The answer is none,” Jenny told me, more tears soaking her arms. “So how am I two-months pregnant, right?” She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, which were puffy and red now. I stared at her, unable to form any kind-of response. 

“How am I pregnant…” Jenny wondered aloud, closing her eyes for a second. “Do you know how I’m pregnant, Alex? Do you have any idea?”

I about choked on my saliva. “Um,” I mumbled idiotically, looking down at the wooden bench panels, suddenly fascinated. I wasn’t hearing this. Jenny Konners was /not/ talking to me about how babies were made. Especially when what she was saying was entirely impossible. 

But as her voice cracked on her next sentence, I snapped back to attention and felt a cold chill run through my whole being, just like that. 

“Damien raped me.” 

Jenny’s eyes were still and emotionless as I looked back at her, and suddenly her face looked sunken and her uniform looked crooked on her and her makeup was smudged and everything just looked wrong. 

“Damien Rhyce,” Jenny whispered, goosebumps popping up along her forearms. “My boyfriend.”

“He… He raped you?” I asked, unable to comprehend anything at that point. 

Her dark wavy hair drooped over her elbow as she lay her head back to her hands, staring at nothing in particular. Just staring to be looking anywhere other than me. When she spoke, she still didn’t look at me. “Yes, he did.”

I sat as quiet and as motionless as possible, my face pale. 

“When?” 

Jenny bit her lip. “Two months ago, right after Homecoming. He was taking me home after the game and then he pulled the car over at the lake because he said he wanted me to see something. God, I don’t know why I believed him. As soon as he parked the car and cut off the lights, there was no escaping. He just did it, he just forced me to do it, he just pretended he couldn’t hear me screaming. Then he took me home and acted like nothing happened.”

That son of a b*tch. I hated Damien Rhyce then, and I barely even knew who he was. 

“And now here we are,” Jenny said, her voice soft and low. “I’m pregnant because I was too dumb to realize what he was doing.”

“It’s not your fault, Jenny,” I blurted, instinctively touching her shoulder. She didn’t move. And neither did I. “You need to tell someone.”

“I just told you,” she said almost inaudibly. She was sobbing now, so hard you couldn’t even hear her. 

“Why did you tell me?” I asked, because there was nothing else I could say. I didn’t understand, and felt worse for Jenny than I’d ever felt before. 

Jenny sniffled, turning toward me, still folded into a ball. “ Sometimes it’s easier to trust someone with a secret when they don’t know you; they can’t judge you. Please understand. And don’t tell anyone, please Alex.” She stood up, taking Kleenex out of her bag and bringing them to her blotchy red face, looking hopeless and lost. I wanted more than anything to help her, but I didn’t know how.

“Thanks for listening,” she said as she turned down the hall, disappearing into the girls’ bathroom. I watched the bathroom door for two whole minutes before I realized she wasn’t coming out. 

I walked back to Calculus in a daze, wondering if maybe I had slept through class and none of this had really happened. But when the final bell of the day rang, and I didn’t wake up, I found that it was all real. All entirely, horribly real. Worse than me, the secret-keeper, was the secret-holder, Jenny Konners, who was living the nightmare. 

The parking lot was emptying out as I finally went to my car. Outside it was bright and sunny, as if mocking me. I looked up at the sky, wondering if Jenny was okay. But I knew she wasn’t. What was I supposed to do about it?

And then I saw him. 

Damien Rhyce. That b*stard. 

He was just across the lot, talking to his friends. Did he know Jenny was pregnant? Did he know what a sorry piece of person he was? Did he know I hated him? Did he even know my name?

“Damien,” I called out through gritted teeth, beckoning him over to me. He squinted, searching for me. But I couldn’t wait. I stalked up to him, staring him down.

“Who the h*ll are you?” 

Instead of answering him, I punched him squarely across the jaw, just like in the movies, and watched him fall backwards to the pavement. I made sure he was bleeding before I went back to my car, ignoring the threats from his dopey friends. 

Some people might have asked why I did it, but I looked at it simply as something that needed to be done. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Then you need to answer these questions:
1. Was this a challenge for you? 
The actual writing wasn’t that much of a challenge for me because I love writing (obviously haha) and I have this fascination with writing for boys because you get to create a peek for yourself into a boy’s perspective and it’s just really interesting to me. However, the actual set-making part was a challenge because I don’t really do guy outfits… But it was a fun experience!
2. Have you written for a boy character before? 
Yes! Well, not in a roleplay or on Polyvore ever, but this book I am working on writing is half in a girl’s perspective, and half in a boy’s perspective like that book Flipped. So I’m definitely not a pro at it, but I did feel pretty comfortable writing it. 

Also, to those of you wondering (such as, I KNOW @istylista is), I did include some cursing (though I do not curse myself in RL, and I don't usually curse in my stories), but I included it because I felt it added to the writing because let's face it: pretty much all guys curse. So I just thought I would add it in, hopefully it doesn't offend anyone. 

ALSO, love this gorgeous male model? Check out his collection: http://www.polyvore.com/fresh_face_mikus_lasmanis/collection?id=1200480

And check out my Tumblr if you have time: http://brunettesilhouette.tumblr.com
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