𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘

looks in the locker room. It didn't bother me. Truthfully, I found it funny that he saw me as his "competition."

I had to laugh thinking about it. He was a jackass, even worse, he was an oblivious jackass, unaware of his stupidity. Thinking of Paris as his property and not a person. How vain he was.

The reason never crossed my mind why Paris let some goofy with a drawn-on hairline—control her, or why she put up with him.

At lunch, I wished I could've told Sean about it. But Sean was friends with Darion, or at least cordial with him.

"Oh, Kristen left early. I'm not sure if she's coming back," I informed Sean.

Sean nodded, drizzling his salad in ranch dressing.

I saw Paris heading over to the table where Darion, two girls, and another boy sat.

"Sean?" I asked.

"Yessir?"

"Who are the other girls at Darion's table, and the boy, too?"

"Grey is the other boy, Alannah is the um, the country bumpkin with the blonde highlights, and Priscilla is the blonde with the dark roots."

"Oh, so I assume you're friends with them?"

"Alannah's cool, Grey is alright, I guess. Priscilla's a little sneaky, though."

Sneaky? "Sneaky how?"

"When I was sitting over there, it seemed like she was always sneak-dissin' Shannon and Paris. And I don't play when it comes to Shannon."

"Right."

"If you have a problem with her, then you have a problem with me. And it seemed like Priscilla had a problem with her, so I had to check her a few times."

"What did she say?"

"She called Shannon a follower, said she was average, and has insulted her, calling her a bitch on numerous occasions. It baffles me why Shannon sits there."

"What has she said to Paris?"

"Oh, she's called her flat-chested or something, um, she said Paris sounded dyslexic and called her a hoe."

"What do dyslexic people sound like to this Priscilla?"

"Don't know."

"And has Darion defended her?"

"No, he usually laughs."

That made me angry. If Paris was supposed to be Darion's "friend" then why didn't he defend her? That's not a friend.

Sean noticed Paris coming over (as did I) with an angry look, and that's when I knew the conversation subject had to change.

Paris was erratic, and her mouth was erratic, too, so I wasn't sure what to expect from her. Though I didn't do anything, I got ready for a confrontation.

She came and took the seat next to me, putting her head down.

"What's wrong?" I asked her, a tad concerned.

She put her head up, and I was surprised by her red nose and bloodshot eyes along with the tears coming down them.

"Priscilla is a fucking– she's a fucking sheisty ass bitch," she stammered. "I guess Darion told her about you taking my picture. So when I went over there she called me a 'whore.' And Darion's punk ass just laughed, he didn't even say anything. I'm not upset that Priscilla called me a whore, I'm upset over the simple fact that my so-called friend didn't even stick up for me."

That angered me. It angered me that Darion allowed this girl to disrespect Paris.

"Paris, don't let that get to you," Sean said.

"Where's Shannon?" I mouthed to Sean.

"Study Hall," he mouthed back.

I looked back down at Paris whose head was down again and rubbed her back gently.

"Don't give them the power to upset you," I told her. "It's clear that they wanted to hurt you–"

She whipped her head up and turned to me. "You know what, I'm glad that that happened because now I know not to fuck with them."

"Exactly," I agreed.

She wiped her eyes and cheeks with the bottom of her hand. "I'm about to confront them now." She rose from the seat.

"Don't even do all of that, just leave it alone," I told her. Entertaining the situation would only make things worse for her (and me a little bit).

"No–"

"Leave it alone."

"I can't–"

"Leave it alone."

"London," she groaned, stomping her foot childishly.

"Paris, leave it alone."

She closed her eyes slowly, clenched her fist tight, and slowly, sat down.

I was honestly surprised that Paris actually sat down. I wasn't expecting that from her, I thought she would just go over and be all rah-rah.

To be quite frank, I was proud of her for turning the other cheek.

Paris rested her chin on her fist, looking like a stubborn child. She stayed at Sean and I's table for the rest of lunch and pulled out her phone to entertain herself.