Interregnum
inuxxian@gmail.com
Hayley's a free woman. Now's your chance.

We're basically in love, but every now and then Liam and I end up
having to take a break. We both get pissed off enough at each other
that it's obvious someone's gonna do something serious to someone
else, like knock her teeth out or rape him with a rolling pin, and we
have to take some time off and, like, channel our frustration into
manipulative sex with other people. Honestly it's usually Liam who
gets slutty, which is fine because it at least makes getting back
together fun. Last time we broke up he knocked up some fat girl--the
boy gets drunk--and we started fucking again right after, and she
walked in on us making out at lunch and started walrus-crying, and I
got to tell her not to feel so bad because maybe the doctor would let
her eat the abortion. Which was pretty worth it.

Anyway, we're having one of those months. I don't even remember what
the fight was about except that my position was he was a fucking
dumbass, which he is, and his position was that I was a fucking bitch,
which yeah well, and I left his house right after I picked up a pair
of scissors and said I was going to open them up and stab one blade
into each one of his eyes and then squeeze the scissors closed "like a
stress toy". I think that one got to him.

And I've been mostly chaste because I mean don't get me wrong boys are
hot but so is my mirror, and none of the really gorgeous girls around
here are in the right phase yet to lez out. (Although don't think I'm
graduating without scoring a few goals. I'm taking that girl Marissa
to the fucking prom.) But sometimes I meet someone I like, which I
totally have today because the guy miraculously sitting next to me is
just amazingly cut-and-brooding Charlie Starkweather GORGEOUS.

Which is the one good thing about today, because I'm sitting beaming
peripheral-vision stares at this perfect specimen in the school
auditorium, at this fucking Life Planning assembly we all had to go to
because we apparently suck at planning our lives. Except I fucking
rule at planning my life so I should really be exempt. But I guess
it's lucky I'm not, because not only am I sitting next to an
inexplicably unfamiliar Total Hunk, but I'm getting some seriously
inspired drawing done in my bio notebook. Onstage, behind the podium,
there's that big dumb painting of our dopey bear mascot, and I'm
sketching the bear raping the Life Planning guy up the ass, with its
dick like shoved in so far it's broken through the guy's stomach wall
and is sticking straight through him. I'm mostly proud of the guy's
expression.

When I'm done with it--I mean normally I'd always be fussing with a
drawing but this is just a sketch--I nudge Gorgeous in the elbow and
tilt the notebook towards him. He laughs so hard heads turn. I like
this guy. Then he takes the pen out of my hand and writes in big
sloppy boy-letters under the sketch: "AWESOME." See, it's not like
girls aren't hot, but that's why I'll always really be about the
guys--they know what's funny. Marissa would probably cry if I showed
her this. Maybe I'll make her tattoo it on herself when she's in love
with me. Anyway then we have a little back-and-forth writing in my
notebook:

- What's your name?

- Paul.

- Does Paul like weed?

[surprised laugh from Paul cuz I'm funny]

- Yeah he does.

- Well he'd better follow my ass out of here.

Corny-flirty, I know, but hey I can be girly when I feel like it. I
guess Paul doesn't mind, because he's packing stuff in his backpack
before I even stand up and head out of the auditorium. Life Planning
guy asks me where I'm going and even adds a "young lady", and I stick
one finger up with my back to him and then slap my ass on the way out
the door. If he's gonna be a walking fucking cliche so am I.

"Can I write 'awesome' on YOU now?" Paul asks when he comes out.

"You liked that? Was it the finger or the spank?"

"That sounds wrong."

"Gonna be a lot of that." We're walking around the building while I
dig my piece and my lighter (disposable Bic, American flag) out of a
jeans pocket and feel him stare at my ass. It is a supremely shitty
day, like the one day of the year it rains here (I'm an L.A. girl, so
now you're one step closer to knowing where I live oh my God go change
your shorts), and the back of the building is like all mud. I think
about making him carry me through it just for fun but I don't really
give enough of a shit.

Paul takes decent hits. That's important to me in a boy. Cough too
early and I'm pretty sure you have a small dick. Paul's are like I
said decent but they're admittedly not Liam's. Liam used to take these
amazing fucking rips on stage, back when he was in his shitty punk
band and I was a mosh-pit girl with a crush. The boy could not play
anything for shit but he could be a giant hostile antisocial dick with
majorly violent tendencies and the lungs of God, so I got kinda
obsessed. They're never as cool as you want them to be but some of
them are still pretty goddamn cool. Anyway fuck Liam--scissors,
squeeze, stress relief. Paul takes decent hits.

He's coughing a little, but respectably, and I'm drifting off on one
of those stoned distractions about how shooting baskets last night did
this bizarre thing where it made me actually kinda wet, which is weird
and new and I really have to get this Jock Hayley thing under
control. Paul is handing me the pipe and asking my name and I take a
hit (bigger than him, sure) and hold it in and smile at him and then
take the back of his head and kiss him and let him soak in my
smoke. He coughs and I laugh.

"That's my name," I say.

So we make out. I realize I'm being kind of a slut but like I said
it's a transition period, right? And I mean we look so good we SHOULD
make out. The rain's kinda plastering his shirt to his muscles, which
aren't "I work out" muscles so much as "I play a lot of really violent
backyard football with people I don't like all that much" muscles,
which is how Hayley likes 'em. And I am in like this grey shirt and
black jeans with this utterly adorable little skull-and-crossbones
belt which I know is girly and lame but which I will fucking hang you
with, and god there's just no way I shouldn't be making out behind the
auditorium. Sometimes life's a porno.

The word for Paul's kissing is, again, "decent", and frankly he goes
for second base way too fucking fast which always wants to make me
break boys' hands because I guess I'm just an old-fashioned girl, but
once I've pinned them under mine and he's gotten over his
disappointment he plays pretty good tonsil hockey. And pretty soon
he's sitting against the wall and I'm straddling his lap with my back
and ass sticking out into the rain and having wrestling matches with
his tongue while I think in that same kinda blissful stoned way that I
COULD break his hands if I really wanted to. Which means I'm really
enjoying myself, don't get me wrong, although I am just gonna mention
that when I'm necking Liam I almost never start wondering if beating
the shit out of him would be more fun.

But whatever. Paul's decent and I'm stoned and the rain actually feels
fucking amazing on my back. I guess I'm full in the zone because Paul
hears his girlfriend screaming at us before I do.

For god's sake. She's this skinny little preppy bitch who looks like a
garden trowel taped to a broomstick and is wearing a fucking skirt,
ugh, even though it's FUCKING RAINING fuck you. She's like standing
away from the building and yelling at us across the mud because I
guess she doesn't want to get her Louis Whoeverthefuck heels
dirty. Also when I look over my shoulder even from that distance it's
obvious she's staring at my coinslot, like that's a big fucking
scandal. Seriously giving Paul some demerits now, do not know what the
fuck his deal is for this girl. Maybe her parents have a good liquor
cabinet.

Anyway she's calling me a slut or whatever which OK like I said I know
I am kinda being today but still ugh, and I'm sitting on Paul's lap so
he can't get up or anything and frankly doesn't look a whole lot like
he wants to. And I'm getting this weird THING I've been getting where
I get pissed off or stressed or something and my muscles like TINGLE,
like they want me to do something, and indulging them even a fucking
little is a straight-up bliss shot to the fucking heart. And then I
get kinda addicted to it--oh fuck I'm stoned I don't give a shit I'll
just say it. I'm a fucking jock. Kiss my fucking jock-girl ass. Eat
hardwood and lick my fucking Reeboks. Just do it. Whatever. Ugh.

The girl starts coming across the mud because I guess she finally got
mad enough, which is an unsurprisingly big mistake on her part because
she is obviously a total preppy retard. Kids like these should be fed
to their fucking parents so they can shit them out and try harder next
time. "You fucking WHORE," she yells, and reaches for my shoulder,
which is when I swing around and smash my elbow into her stomach and
put her down on her bony ass in the mud.

Paul yells "oh shit!" here like he's just watched someone score a
really good Halo headshot, and starts laughing. Which is unexpected
and which totally redeems Paul and which makes me think this is gonna
be fun.

The girl is struggling to get up and yelling "BITCH" when I spring up
from Paul's lap, put my hand on her face, and shove her back
down. She's got these no-joke blonde fucking ringlets like Taylor
fucking Swift, and I yank her up by one of these and shove her body
around and rub her face into the fucking mud and get on top of
her. The rain is falling all over me now and it feels perfect and cool
and I'm stoned enough so that looking at my bicep holding this bitch
down actually makes me give it a little peck. Love you girls.

"Jesus, you are fucking evil," Paul says with, like, admiration.

I bend my head back to look at him upside-down and grin. The girl's
wriggling under my hand and little bubbles are coming up from the mud
so I lift her to let her breathe. She's crying like someone kicked a
chihuahua. I'm still looking at Paul and the noise makes me blurt out
my Total Fucking Sociopath laugh, which I try to keep down most of the
time because honestly it's kinda Beavisy. But god I am for some reason
just in utter delight mode. I actually hop off the girl and slap her
ass and yell "Be free!" and she's still got enough in her to start
running across the mud and I give her a second before I full-on tackle
her and bring her down, my shirt and jeans all muddy now, my hair
stringy from the rain, a big girly Hayley's-a-Psycho grin on my face
like I'M playing football. Now it's Paul who's staring at my coinslot
probably, but it's cool, he appreciates it.

I'm sitting on the girl again and she's looking up at me with her
muddy teary face and I'm smiling down on her like nothing on fucking
earth. "Oink," I say.

She just sobs.

"Fucking OINK, bitch. Your boyfriend's watching."

She tries one but she's not really committed yet. I throw my head back
and yell "Paul, tell your little piggy to oink for Hayley."

"Oink for Hayley, Leslie," he says. Aw, he likes my name. Leslie's
screwing up her face under the mud and wailing like something someone
needs to step on. "C'mon, skinny piggy, you lose," I say to her. "Oink
and you get to go." I hear Paul's footsteps behind me and a second
later he puts his hand on my neck, which is fine because he's warm and
I've got goosebumps and at this point anything that makes me feel even
more fucking perfect is fine by me.

"Hayley," he says above me.

"Yeah, I like it too," and that exact moment is when Leslie finally
decides to cut her losses and oink a little. So I do the whole "more,
bitch!"/"louder"/"squeeeeeeal" thing, and she oinks and sobs and looks
like shit as opposed to me who could do a fucking photoshoot like this
and is thinking about becoming a professional mud wrestler but only if
she can find a league where sitting on the back of someone's head
until their lungs fill up with mud isn't against the rules. Also they
couldn't frown upon holding someone's nose closed until they open
their mouth and then shoving an entire fistful of mud inside, which is
what I do to Leslie. God, lying is fun. Her eyes do some serious
bug-out action and she starts making choking noises like she's trying
to breathe through a mattress and I cross my fingers, hope for brain
damage, and make out with her boyfriend in the rain. Who's Taylor
Swift now, bitch.

Anyway while I am occupied doing all these majorly fun things I guess
I miss one of our school's dumbass Rent-A-Cops coming around the
corner, because he starts yelling too and Leslie looks like Jesus
Fucking Christ just came back to be her own personal savior. I
consider beating the shit out of him but nah I'd just wanna crack his
skull open and make Leslie lick his brains off the pavement and I
don't think Paul's exactly ready for that yet. So fuck it. I stand up
and give Leslie a little bitch-slap while she turns her head and
starts spitting out her throatful of mud, and Paul's kinda hanging
back and I'm strolling up to the Rent-A-Cop with my jeans all muddy
and my belt still cute.

"What do you think you're doing?"

I look over my shoulder, cock my hips, milk it a little, make a
confused face, wish I really were bashing this guy's brains
out. "Which part doesn't make sense to you?"

He's peering over my shoulder at the wriggling muddy stick that is
Leslie, who's at circus-freak level now. "Who is that?"

"I dunno but I think she's gonna need a therapist." I'd give her mine
but I wore him out. The Rent-A-Cop seems to be at a loss for words, so
I'm just looking at him. I'm five-foot-five and I have seriously green
eyes, and my T-shirt is dripping with mud and sticking to my boobs in
perfect little half-transparent curves, and the half-inch of belly
between my jeans and my shirt is all pricked from the rain and heaving
a little because I have just had some fucking fun, and my lips are wet
and there's a drop of water on my nose and when I reach one totally
fucking gorgeous arm up to push hair out of my face the R-A-C almost
creams himself. In a second he's gonna tell me to go to the office,
and I'm gonna go and get a suspension or whatever, because I don't
want to make a big thing out of this. But right now I own him. I lean
forward, smile, this muddy grinning creature from another fucking
world, and kiss him really slowly on the lips.

"Bite me," I say when I pull away. Then I laugh again, my like sterile
clinical I'm-squishing-bugs borderline laugh, like I'm performing
surgery for fun. And the cop's basically staring into fucking Hell and
can't believe it's real. Enjoy the nightmares, dickhead.

The rest is all discipline and teachers and phone calls to parents,
who by the way in Leslie's case are almost as killable as their
daughter. I say so, too, which doesn't go over that well. Anyway Paul
and I both get two weeks' suspension--which means we both get two
weeks off school, which means they basically send us on a
honeymoon. Paul has a good sense of humor and takes decent hits and
everything but it's pretty clear that he's a dumbfuck who'll basically
do anything for me because I'm his wet dream, which means things are
gonna be really fun when I finally get back together with Liam. That
should be in like a week and a half. Told you I don't need Life
Planning. Oh and also guess who's sitting outside the principal's
office when we're going in? Marissa, who I guess is there for
tardiness or something and whom I give a little air-kiss to. It kinda
scandalizes her but you can tell she's already getting Confused. Oh,
angel-pie, I'm gonna make you a woman. This has been a preview of the
Hayley Show.