k a r r i s

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I was thoroughly displeased with the current situation that I would've chosen my locker to be placed in between two urinals than have to awkwardly kneel down right below Ashton's crotch in order to organize all my books and binders. I turned my head slowly, catching glimpse of Berkley several lockers down with a face full of misery. She mouthed me an "I'm sorry" before returning her attention back to the locker before her. 

I always knew Ashton Irwin wasn't the most amazing guy, but I didn't think he'd be that much of a jerk. Gabe used to always speak so highly of him-- calling Ashton a brother, and a person who would never let him down. I almost laughed at the thought. My twin obviously had one too many hockey pucks to the head, because the way Ashton had forced me to trade lockers with him only told me that number 15 was the douchiest douche in all of doucheville. 

"Don't look so upset sweetheart," Ashton's pseudo-kindness could make cancer cells multiply, "having a locker right beneath me won't be such a bad thing. I get to have the same one I've had for the past three years, and you don't have to worry about not being able to see your combination lock. It's a win-win situation. Besides, while you're down there you can always give me a quick blow job." 

I didn't even know how to respond to that. My face scrunched up in absolute, pure disgust. I slammed my locker shut, the clamorous bang echoing in the hall. Hastily, I picked up the binder and book I needed for the first half of my classes and stood up, wanting to get away from Ashton as fast as possible. However, my attempts to quickly depart became a humiliating travesty. 

BANG!

The top of my head crashed into the top of Ashton's locker door, and my hands flew straight to the shooting pain, as my glasses dangled crookedly from one ear. Ashton, along with the others around us, bursted in hysterical laughter. 

"If I knew you were so eager to get your lips around my dick, I would've worn pants that were easier to slide down," Ashton taunted in between laughter. He clutched his stomach as if to ebb the stinging pain he felt in his sides from laughing too hard. If I weren't so tan, you'd be able to see my cheeks flush from embarrassment. 

With one hand rubbing the top of my head, and the other grasping onto my school things, I hastily made my way to Berkley who had a concerned look on her face. She shot Ashton a glare full of ire before escorting me down the corridor towards the nurse's office. It was the first freaking day of school, I was on campus for less than thirty minutes and I already was humiliated miserably.

This is going to be a long school year.

"Ugh, he's such an asshole," Berkley grunted, an arm draped around my shoulder as we both entered the nurse's office. "All this over a stupid locker. He's had the same one for the past--"

"--three years," I finished with a groan, slumping down on the cushioned bed, the sanitary paper crumpling beneath my bum. "I wish we could trade lockers, but if it weren't for that teacher... The Feng Shui of lockers don't correlate with chakras and hockey wins! That literally makes no sense." 

"It's a load of bullshit, I know," Berkley agreed, "but hockey is a big deal at this school. Winning hockey games is how this school gets money. As long as the Thunderbirds keep their game up, sponsors are more likely to donate-- hence all the nice computers and teaching materials. Most teachers will do whatever it takes to make sure our school wins, even if it means giving hockey players special treatment." 

"Of all the people to have their locker above mine it had to be Ashton's," I shuddered at the reminder of having his man parts so close to my head, I could've sworn my brain was going to get pregnant, despite it not being scientifically sound. 

Just then the door opened and a woman no more than about 40-years-old entered wearing a set of dark blue scrubs and white rubber shoes. She held a disposable ice pack in her hand wrapped by a few layers of paper towels. 

"How's your head? Still throbbing?" she kindly asked, handing me the ice pack. I took it from her hands, gently placing it on my battle wound. I winced from the coldness, but sighed in relief with its immediacy to healing the soreness. 

"It's not throbbing anymore," I told her honestly, looking up at the nurse through my glasses. 

"You're head will be sore for about a day but if you start to feel any intense headaches, or dizziness please let someone know immediately. We wouldn't want you to have a concussion," she professed. The nurse began scribbling on a pink piece of paper, "what was your name again?" 

"Karris Villanueva," I answered, as I pressed the icepack deeper into my head. The cooling sensation put a whole new meaning to the term brain freeze. 

When I looked up at the nurse again, she continued writing on the piece of paper, however kept drifting her eyes over to me every other moment. I already knew what she was thinking-- it's the girl from the papers with the dead brother. 

"How's your family holding up, Karris?" she asked. I knew it. 

"It gets easier every day. Our family is strong, we're holding on and we live in loving memory of my brother," I sighed, replicating the same words I so often said that it almost seemed scripted. 

"Well, I'm here if you need anything besides an ice pack," she hinted.

"Thanks," I gave her a half smile. It wasn't like I didn't appreciate all the helping hands, I was just tired of all the sappy sympathy. I'd be more grateful if someone were to cut the crap and tell me that my life sucked and that it was okay to throw bricks at windows. 

"Here's a slip to give to your teachers excusing your tardiness," the nurse explained, handing a small rectangular paper to Berkley and I. "I don't want to see you back in here unless it's for minor cuts, okay girls? I see the hockey team in here enough." 

"Got it," I smiled, standing up from the small bed. 

I followed Berkley out the nurse's office and into the empty hallways. My first period class was thankfully Physics, a course that I loved and had already taken my first year at Brampcrest. Once Berkley dropped me off to the door, she moseyed on over to her class located on the second floor. I grasped the door handle and pulled it open, feeling a rush of awkwardness as all eyes landed on me. 

"Who do we have here?" the teacher stood at the front of the class with an oddly creepy grin on his face. White, short-sleeved button up shirt, slacks, a thick mustache, balding head and thick glasses embellished his round face. If he was inside a white van parked outside of a playground, I'd be very nervous. 

I handed the teacher my tardy slip, "hi, sorry I'm late. I'm new to the school." 

"That's alright. I'm Mr. Pinkston. A warm welcome to Willowridge! I hope you enjoy being a Thunderbird!" Mr. Pinkston cheered. "We were just in the middle of introducing ourselves to one another. You can go next. Will you please introduce yourself to the class please, with your name, your last school, and a fun fact about yourself?" 

"Um okay. My name is Karris Villan--" 

"You're going to have to speak louder than that. My ears aren't what they used to be. Too many rock concerts back in my day," Mr. Pinkston chuckled, sighing in reminiscent of his apparent wild days as a young hooligan.

"My name is Karris Villanueva," I announced, my voice a couple of decibels louder than before. I shifted my eyes from Mr. Pinkston, to the class before me but I wish I hadn't. Once again, my name had become a trigger, and whispers began to ensue. "I transferred from Brampcrest Academy--" 

"Brampcrest?" Mr. Pinkston interrupted. I internally slapped myself in the face. Couldn't he just let me finish my introduction so I can hide in the back of the classroom? "Why on Earth would you transfer out of such a prestigious school?" 

Because the stress of seeing my twin brother die before my very eyes was overwhelming enough and I didn't need the added stress of college-level classes bogging me down. Oh and my brother's assassin goes to that school too.

"Change of plans," I shrugged. 

"I see. And a fun fact about yourself and then you can take a seat," Mr. Pinkston said.

"Um... I like math," I hastily sputtered, turning to Mr. Pinkston with the hopes of his approval. 

"Not exactly on the juicy side, but that works. Thank you Karris. You may take that empty seat at the back corner of the class, next to Mr. Irwin. That will be your seat for the remainder of the school year," 

Aw, nuckin futs.

In the back on the class, slumping in his seat was none other than number 15. He nonchalantly scrolled through his phone, not paying any attention to his surroundings. With my vision concentrated on the floor, I made my way to the empty desk, trying to keep my eyes diverted from Ashton. 

"Mr. Irwin it's your turn," Mr. Pinkston declared. The room turned over their shoulders or shifted in their seats to look at curly-headed boy. 

"What happened?" Ashton asked, finally noticing all the eyes planted on him. He smiled at the teacher, his dimples out as a couple of girls sighed at an awe of his appearance. 

"It's your turn to stand up and introduce yourself to the class," Mr. Pinkston reminded, "name and a fun fact about yourself."

Ashton was definitely one who loved the attention, because without hesitation he stood up from his desk with confidence, "I'm Ashton Irwin, but I'm sure all of you already knew that," he paused for a moment to wink at the thin brunette near him, causing her to giggle. "A fun fact about me? Well I'm a hockey extraordinaire-- but that's nothing new. How about..." he paused as if to contemplate deeply of his next statement, "the fact that I'm going to lead Willowridge to its tenth championship win!"

The entire class erupted into excitement, giving Ashton all the glory that he expected to get every single day. He flashed the class another million-dollar smile as if he just won the crown to Miss America. I scoffed at his existence, totally puzzled that my brother was ever friends with this cocky dude. 

Before Ashton took his seat, he turned to look at me, his eyes glaring straight through my body and burning holes into my soul. He smirked, pausing for a millisecond, as if the tension would add to the emphasis of his upcoming words,

"Brampcrest has no chance... right, loser?" 

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Hello everyone! Hope you all liked chapter 2! How does everyone feel about Ashton so far in the story? Cocky and a jerk, huh? Please let me know what you think about the story so far and PLEASE VOTE if you liked this chapter. Also share it with your friends. Thank you super much for taking the time to read this story!

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