Dirty Hands and Purple Sand for Blood

They were just two girls with dirty hands and purple sand for blood.

(Rated [Red] for language and mild to violent scenes; may be graphic)


3. What are You Talking About?



"Just like that?"

Laney nodded her head rapidly, "I didn't even realized until I was out of the classroom."

Sadie whistled, "That's slick."

"It's creepy!"

"Did you get his name?"

"No, Mrs. Hemmings never said either of their names; like she knew them or something."

"So, what you're telling me is, there is a cute new blonde boy with a cute green-haired friend, that are nothing but trouble?"

Laney rolled her eyes, "Forget what I said about them being cute, but yes."


Sadie hummed, "I haven't seen them around, are you sure you weren't hallucinating?"

"Sadie, he touched my hand. He grabbed it and squeezed my fingers, and I'm not on anything that can make me hallucinate in the first place."

Laney sighed and shoved all her books in her locker, zipping up her backpack and pulling it over her shoulder, double checking her locker to make sure she had everything. When she closed it, she looked over at Sadie, who was still holding her English book from that morning.

"Don't you ever go to your locker?"

"What do you mean? It's right here," The other girl said, tapping the locker adjacent to Laney's.

"I mean, do you ever open your locker?"

"Only when I need to."

Laney raised an eyebrow at her friend, before realizing that Sadie wasn't going to prepare herself for her next class anytime soon.


"Hey, I'll meet you in the cafeteria. I have to go turn in my syllabus to Mrs. Hemmings; kept forgetting it."

"I still don't think it's fair that you get to have a different math teacher than I do," Sadie grumbled.

"Mr. Walker isn't that bad. I had him for Algebra II."

Sadie stuck her tongue out at Laney, "You like math though."

"I think it's safe to say you don't like any subject at all."

"Not true; I like English."

Laney grinned, "Go, I'll meet up with you."


Laney watched as her friend walked away, then turning in the direction of the stairs to Mrs. Hemmings' classroom.

She quickly had made her way through the hallway, knowing well that she could get in trouble for roaming the halls during lunchtime. It was a stupid rule, and no one ever listened to it, but teachers were allowed to give out detentions, and Laney wasn't up for staying an extra hour at school.

She reaches the classroom, but stops at just before the turning into the doorway, hearing Mrs. Hemmings voice.


"I thought you were done doing this."

"I didn't mean to be late, honest."

Laney gasped quietly, placing a hand over her mouth as she leaned in close, trying to her best to glance inside. 

She knew it couldn't be the green-haired boy from earlier speaking, she knew his voice. That meant that this boy-

Laney finally managed to peek inside the room, seeing the blonde boy that had sat next to her sitting on Mrs. Hemmings' desk, slouching almost in defeat.

"That is exactly what you said last time, and the time before that; over and over again you've lied to me and I've had enough Luke."


Luke?, Laney thought, That fits him so well.


"I won't do it again."

"You're right you won't."



Mom?!, Laney had to step back from the door, because she couldn't believe that Luke, the boy who was late and looked like he didn't give a rats ass about anything, was Mrs. Hemmings' son.

"No, I mean it Luke. It's about time you start acting your age. I won't have any of this skipping class, and going out late at night to hang out with your friends. So, you won't be going to that party with Michael this weekend."

"What?!" Luke stood from where he sat at the desk.

"I'm not kidding; I'm sick and tired you being this rebellious kid, and I won't have my own boss call me up and tell me that my son is skipping school."

"You can't control me."

"Yes, I can. And I will until you start to behave," Mrs. Hemmings crossed her arms, "and you won't be late in the morning to school anymore, or that death machine will be confiscated as well."

"You can't take my motorcycle! I bought it with my own money!"

"Do you want to test me?"


Laney couldn't listen to anymore of this conversation, and without thinking she turned into the doorway, and knocked quietly on the open door.

Both Mrs. Hemmings and Luke turned to face her, her teacher looking at her surprised while the boy seemed slightly annoyed.

"I'm sorry, was I interrupting something?," Laney wanted to face-palm; what a stupid question to ask.

"No," Luke gritted, "you weren't."

He leaned over his mother, grabbing his bag and walking out of the room, slipping past Laney without another word.


"What did you need, sweetie?" Mrs. Hemmings asked softly.

Laney turned to her, noticing her defeated expression, feeling sympathy; she knew what that look meant, she'd seen it enough times on her own parents' faces.

"I, um, I kept forgetting to turn my syllabus in to Mr. Kerrin. I thought you'd want it," She said quietly, handing over the folded paper to her teacher.

Mrs. Hemmings smiled, "Oh, thank you. It seems I'm only missing four now."

Laney nodded, "Have a good lunch."

"You too."


Laney walked out of the classroom, feeling sick, knowing very well that she never should have listened to Luke and his mother's conversation.



"I think she was listening in on our conversation," Luke sighed, throwing an arm over his eyes. After school, he had told his mother he'd go straight home, not wanting to stay at school any longer than he had to. 

"What are you talking about?" Michael asked, sitting at the edge of Luke's bed, staring at the younger boy who was currently sprawled out next to him.

"That girl," he answered, "the one I sat next to. I think she was listening to me and mom argue."

"Why do you think that?"

"I don't know, "Luke lifted his arm to look at the older boy, "She walked in at the right time. Like she knew that I was going to-" he stopped himself, "I mean, she looked sad."

"Maybe she was sad about something else."

"I don't know, maybe."


Michael leaned his elbow on his leg, poking Luke in the stomach with the other before patting the boy's leg gently, "What can I do? I'm the one that got you in trouble."

"No, you didn't," Luke sighed, sitting up, "it was my fault."

"I can stay in with you," Michael offered, "it's just a stupid party."


"No. We're going."

Michael watched as Luke got up from the bed, searching for something frantically throughout his bedroom, "Wait, you're mom said no."



"I may have to be good in school, but that does not mean I'll back down from my life outside of it. My mom may say she can, but she doesn't control my life and she never will."

Michael nodded slowly, "Okay; how do you plan to leave the house?"

Luke motioned to his window.

"That's so cliché."

The younger boy smiled,  "But it always works."



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