Free Run to Me by Erin Golding

monkey with a firecracker up
its arse. The shriek can be heard for miles. It’s just another of her little
ploys to get attention, because you sure as hell can’t ignore it when she gets
going. I slow my pace to see if I can hear what’s so damn funny. But it’s just
her screeches and the minions sucking up to her. ‘You’re so funny, Amanda.’
    The first time we did it was at her place, on
the floor in her room. She rode me like a cowgirl. I didn’t even have time to
get my gear off. My trousers were bunched up round my ankles the whole time and
she was still wearing her school uniform. I felt her up through her shirt, but
never caught sight of her bits. I could feel them though. Warm and wet around
my dick, the muscles relaxing as she bounced up and down. It was my first time,
not sure about her. I’d seen her snogging that dude from the bowling alley, but
don’t know if they ever got down to it.
    The laughter stops just as I make it to the
door. I glance back towards her group. She is looking at me. Our eyes lock and
I feel that punch in the guts again. Only this time it’s different. This time
it’s like she’s got hold of my insides and she’s wringing them as hard as she
can. A Chinese burn for my guts. I straighten up a little, trying to release
her hold and she smirks. Her hand comes up, as though to wave at me, and she
flips me the bird. I shake my head and turn away.
    She’s always giving the finger. I bet she
reckons it’s her trademark, like she invented it or something. The afternoon I
caught her with McFadden, she flipped me one. That was her reaction. She didn’t
seem guilty or surprised. She just looked smug, like I’d made her day. I found
them at the skate park. He had her shoved up against the brick wall, one hand
up her skirt, the other groping her tit. She saw me coming from over his
shoulder. Hell, she probably set the whole thing up. It was broad daylight, for
Christ’s sake. And she knew I’d be heading there after school. The skank wanted
me to catch her. She was too chicken to dump me face-to-face.
    I try to shake the image from my mind as I pull
up outside the classroom. The door is ajar and I can see Mrs Fox inside, taking
books out of her bag and arranging them on her desk. Her hair is dead straight,
not wavy like Amanda’s, but it’s just as long. I reckon she’d do a mean hair-flick-to-the-chest.
I watch as she bends to drop her bag on the floor. She’s wearing a low-cut top
and I can see the deep curve of her cleavage. I imagine muzzling into them, sucking
on her nipples, squeezing them between my fingers. I stick my hands into my
pockets to hide the semi-erection and step forward into the room. She notices
me, looks up, and our eyes meet.
     
    ***
     
    When I look up Paul is standing by the door,
staring. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets and his shoulders are
hunched forward. I can tell he is trying to hold my gaze, but on seeing him the
memory of last night with Luke flashes into my mind. I can feel my pulse
quicken with excitement so I look away. I turn towards the whiteboard and busy
myself wiping off the left-over pen marks. The room is silent, except for the
swishing of the cloth in my hand as I sweep it over the board. He must be still
standing there, looking at me. I close my eyes and slowly count to ten. Outside
in the hall the bell rings. I hear his feet shuffling on the carpet, the chair
being pulled out from the desk. 
    I turn around but keep my head down, wiping some
imaginary lint off my top. His books are being dumped on the desk, the lid
being pulled off his pen. These noises are exaggerated; he wants me to look up.
    I pull the chair out from my desk and take a
seat, all the while managing to keep my eyes averted. I pick up my copy of Wuthering Heights and finger through the pages. I was planning to talk
about obsessive love in today’s lesson. The way one can lose themselves in
their love for another. Now this seems inappropriate somehow. I