01 | HER PUSSY CAT SWEATERS

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Iris

"Colten Dias, slow the hell down!" I yell at Colt as he drives his Volkswagen at a speed definitely not for normal street traffic.

"Don't yell, you 17-soon-to-be-18 girl!" he yells back.

"17-soon-to-be-18 girl?" I give him a weird look which he ignores and continues to put our life at risk. "Whoa, slow down!"

Colten Dias.

My greatest best friend in the whole freaked up the universe. This drive-like-a-maniac guy is someone I grew up with. I believe that it is fate that we both are best friends.

Because, why not?

With his dark blonde hair and blue eyes, he looks like a typical American boy but here's a fact, he is actually three-fourth Hispanic. Due to his tendency to speak in Spanish when he was a kid, I willed myself to learn it too, and thus, we rule the Spanish class, together (an exaggeration, really).

Since kindergarten, we have done a lot of things together. Scaring off our elementary teacher by a rubber spider, starting up food fights, putting a lizard in a bully's water bottle (he did drink it, though) to beating other team's butts off in many retro games.

"And, in exactly five minutes, here we are," Colt announces, proudly.

"Well, thank goodness, Death didn't approach me with a slip, real soon," I reply with a blank face.

"You should thank me, dumbass." He parks his car at his usual spot in the parking lot and turns to me, expecting an answer.

"Well, thank you for making us late," I say, smugly, as I get out of the car and proceed towards the school building and then to my locker.

"Almost late!" He yells behind me.

Seahome High School.

I am not going to lie that I didn't get lost in the corridors of this school during my freshman year. The school is huge and has a reputation for winning almost every competition it has entered into. So, we are tough competition for most schools in our city. Not to forget, we, Sea Kings, are a force not to be messed with.

School spirit, that's what I am talking about.

Before I even complete my senior year in high school, Colt has decided to put us in the danger every time only because of him. I swear it is because of him. Even when we live four houses away, the guy is late every time and since we carpool, I am late, too.

"Iris. For fuck's sake, don't walk that fast," He says as he tries to match up with my pace.

Emphasis on 'tries'

"First, stop using cuss words, and second, it is so shocking that I'm better at even walking than you, Mister Quarterback," I reply back, not turning towards him, as I reach near my locker.

Yes, he is the official jock among the both of us but I am just better at kicking his ass in everything, except football. I crush him in video games, drinking contests, holding your food for the longest—I, even, burp louder than him.

"Yeah, yeah..." He says, rolling his eyes, as he leans near my locker. I open up my locker as Colt starts to fiddle with my dream catcher keychain.

"So, almost two months to go for the dance championship, huh?" He asks peeping into my locker.

"Fifty-four days, exact." I breathe out. "Crap, they seem so short now... I know I have won the regionals and have qualified but I am still nervous and especially with the city's Dancefest coming up..." I say, sighing, as I close my locker. I take a deep breath as the nerves started to kick in, thinking about the future and my love for dance.

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