3

                                    

                                          
The next morning, when I arrived to school, I was carrying two extra things. Vance's bag and hockey stick. As I walked through the halls to Vance's normal morning hideout, I received curious glances from other students who passed by, probably curious to why I was carrying extra weight.
When I got to the sport there were two other kids, smoking and such. But no Vance. The two of them looked at me, up and down slowly like predator to prey. In their eyes was judgement and maybe some disgust. Who knew why. "Uh, do you guys know where Vance was?" I asked, hoping they'd set aside whatever judgment they had to answer me truthfully.
"Why do you wanna know?" One kid, the shorter of the two with deep black hair and pale skin, scoffed at me, flicking the ashes off his cigarette at me. 
I took a small step back, avoiding the flying ashes. My nose scrunched up at the stench of the cigarette smoke. "I have his stuff..." I gestured to his bag and hockey stick in my arms.
They looked at his stuff in my arms, then me, then his stuff, and so on. Almost like they didn't believe it. Though, who would? Vance's polar opposite, carrying his stuff around like it was nothing. Nobody would believe that. I wouldn't even believe that! But how do you convince people of the truth? How do you get people, who honeslty probably don't like you and wouldn't believe a word you said, to actually believe you?
The kid who initially spoke to me looked me up and down, his eyes holding a judgemental gaze in them. He shared a quick looked with the other boy. It felt as if they were communicating with just their eyes, which meant they were close. I wondered if Vance was that close with the. Then the shorter boy spoke again, "he's skipping today. But we'll take his stuff."
I sighed a quick sigh of relief, handing over Vance's bag and hockey stick with a small, thankful grin. "Thanks for taking off the extra weight," I joked with a chuckle. 
Neither of them laughed, chuckled, or even cracked a smile at my joke. In awkwardness I just slowly backed away before just eventually speed walking back to the cafeteria.
...
After school I was walking outside, heading towards the bus, when a car's horn startled me. When I gathered my senses my expression faded from frightened to a scowl as I looked around for whoever just did that. Then I saw Vance with a shit-eating grin, looking out his car window at me. Wait...but didn't he skip school today?
I begrudgingly walked over to him, looking up at him. "So you finally decided to show?" I grumbled, giving him a slight glare. "A little late though, school's just ended for that day." 
Vance's stupid smirk faded and he smacked me aside the head. "Aha, so funny," he said in a harsh sarcastic tone. "F.Y.I, I can show up whenever I want," he started off, glaring at me, "and we moved the interview bullshit to today after school, remember?"
I grumbled under my breath as I rubbed the back of my head where he had smacked, "you moved it, but whatever." I then sighed, running a hand through my hair as I looked up at him. "Yeah, so I assume that's why you just honked at me? To get my attention so you can drag me to your house?"
"Hey," Vance said defensively as he put up his hands in a 'surrender' sort of manner, "I'm not forcing you to do anything. I will kick your ass if you don't do this, but that doesn't mean I'm forcing you. You wanted to interview me." He smirked smugly as he rested his arm on the edge of his window. 
I didn't know where to be genuinely scared or not. I mean, he always threatened people, and usually they're empty threats. Though, there has been times he's taken up on his threats. "I never forced you to do this interview, by the way," I scoffed at him. 
"Whatever, it's happenin', so get in," He said in a half-serious and half-playful tone, gesturing with a nod for me to get into the passenger seat of his car. I grumbled under my breath as I did so, wondering to myself on why I even let myself get into this situation.
I hopped up into his car, buckling up and setting my bag in his backseat. I leaned the seat back a little, examining the old — but admittedly sleek — interior of his car. His car was an older model, yet it still had a nice-ish feel to it. Nicer feel than it should have for Vance. My angry expression softened a little as I kept looking over the inside of his car. I was expecting dents, tears, and all that to be in here due to it being Vance's car, but it was nice for a change. 
As he started driving I quietly watched out the windows, watching as the bustling school parking lot faded into neighborhoods, then trees and nature. Vance was surprisingly quiet and when I glanced at him he was watching out his window and windshield, a thoughtful sort of look on his face. Whatever, I thought to myself, I won't dwell on it. Some quietness from Vance is treasure. 
"How long is it until your house?" I asked quietly, glancing at him again.
He blinked as if I brought him back into reality. He looked over at me, a weird look in his eyes before it turned into his normal smug expression. "5 minutes...10 minutes. It's a surprise," he said with cocky smirk. 
I scoffed, rolling my eyes in slight annoyance. "Fine, whatever," I mumbled more to myself than him.  I went back to watching outside the window, watching as the North Denver area got more and more... unfamiliar. I furrowed my eyebrows, sitting up a little straighter. "Is this even North Denver anymore?" I mumbled, just above a whisper.
"I live a little far," Vance said, though his tone sounded unconvincing and almost like he was hiding something. I didn't want to believe what he was saying. I just sighed and went back to watching out the window, now with an uneasy feeling in my gut. Vance wouldn't kidnap me, right? I mean, no way I'd even let anyone kidnap me, right? "Relax, I ain't got no bad intentions," Vance said, his tone a bit softer, yet still cocky and smug.
Soon we pulled up to the gas station he's always at and I sighed deeply. "I thought we were going to your house," I told him bluntly with a slight hint of frustration in my tone. 
Vance looked at me, his eyes quickly going up and down my face—very much not going unnoticed—before he smirked. "Ehhh, we can move the interview," he waved his hand dismissively as he parked and turned off his car. "Don't really feel like doing it today anyways."
I put my face in my hands as I tried to calm down my growing anger and frustration. Was this funny to him? Of course it was. "Well, we need to do it soon," I said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, which it sort of was. "Unless you don't want to do it at all."
"Oh, I want to do it," Vance frowned with faux guilt. He smirked and got out of his car, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his raggedy jeans as he walked into the gas station. Through the window I could see him walking up to his pinball machine and slipping a coin in.
I rolled my eyes, grabbing my backpack from the backseat and getting out of his car. Thankfully I lived pretty close to the gas station, so I could just walk home. And that's what I did. I walked the 10 minutes home in a bit of a sour mood. Oh, I hated Vance.
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Meant to post this a week ago oops ☹️
Thanksgiving break is now so yay