fourteen
Harper Apple
Royal: u will be at the football game fri
BadApple: that wud b a no
Royal: wasn’t a ?
BadApple: Still has an answer
Royal: u. will. b. there.
BadApple: sry already have plans
Royal: don’t make me laugh
BadApple: not playing hard 2 get. Rly do have plans
Royal: what?
BadApple: u kno wut
Royal: u can skip 1
BadApple: skipped last week.
Royal: there will be no fight. I’ll make sure of it.
My heart stutters in my chest. The Slaughterpen is, obviously, an underground fighting ring, considering that there’s pretty much zero accountability. Yes, there are rules, but basically you fight until someone can’t go on. A quick knockout might be a good thing in other places, but there, it’s a good way to get booed out of the ring. The audience isn’t there to see skill. They’re there to see blood. The longer you fight and the bloodier you get, the more money changes hands. Which, again, isn’t exactly legal gambling.
BadApple: u wouldn’t
Royal: Try me, cherry pie
BadApple: Shouldn’t it b apple pie?
Royal: only if ur referring 2 that scene in American Pie
BadApple: guess I walked into that 1
I shift on the bed, rearranging my two flat pillows to give me more cushioning against the wall where I’m leaning my back. I bite my lip to keep from smiling. I don’t want to feel it, the pull of the Dolce boys’ power, but I do. I’m not fucking special. I’m just like every other bitch at Willow Heights, drooling over their dicks and dreaming of being a Dolce girl. Not like I’m going to show it, though.
Royal: I want 2 c u dressed like my whore n cheering 4 me. & I want everyone else 2 c it 2
BadApple: don’t rly care wut every1 wants
Royal: u should care what I want
BadApple: sry I’m not just getting my fix. I need the $
Royal: how much
BadApple: as much as I can get.
Royal: what do u need money for?
BadApple: lol