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  Mr. Anthony

  ♦️ No Filter ♦️

  By S.K. Holiday

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the author; except for small excerpts used for review purposes and attributed to the author.

  © 2020 by Gullyware Publishing. All rights reserved.

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Mr. Anthony

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  ▲

  “ABOUT THE AUTHOR”

  CONTENTS

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  Ignorant of the events going on in her new school, Justina Jezerel fell in love with a charming young man whose looks alone promised to care for her till eternity.

  But, on the platform of cheap cowardice, Justina realized that love truly needs to be tested to be actually proved. Unbeknownst to her, she was in for an even bigger surprise, as it turned out the coward was her BFF’s secret guy too.

  As different frats fight for authority in Bevy High, every student is confronted with the choice of creating their own team.

  However, while the atmosphere is surrounded by thick violence, Justina finds herself sandwiched in a hot session with two teachers. Will she be rescued by them, or would she be sucked into their secret romp, given the circumstances with her boyfriend?

  Chapter 1

  “They are here!” Someone screamed from the corridor, but not one of the fifty teenagers standing idly around made a move. Not until the suspense was cleared by the same speaker.

  I was going to make a move too. In Bevy High, speed was a commonsensical idea; to be fast, especially in cases of chaos, is to be safe. So, my immediate thought, my candid impulse, was to do what the others were now doing, erratically running and stampeding one another as they rushed toward all the exits along our - now - narrow corridor. Rashford stopped me. He already had me fixed to the wall, not in a forceful way though, in a way I was really enjoying. He whispered very softly in my ear as he pinned me against my locker, “Don’t stop a good thing, Justina...!”

  Rashford had a way of saying my name. No one else ever said my name in such a sweet way. I am Justina Jezerel. I like to be called JJ, but no one calls me that because they don’t want others assuming I’m Justinat Jackson. So, I’ve accepted my fate.

  I am slim in stature, but my curves are very attractive. My dark brunette hair is always held in a bun or cornrow. I have big chesticles, and men always turn around to stare at me when I pass by. Sometimes, people are distracted when we speak; people seem to believe my boobs are a little bigger than they should be on such a slim figure. With my height of 5’’9, Rashford was only a few inches taller than me, but the fact that I stared up into his face always made me feel short.

  As we stood there in the corridor, his voice on my cheek felt very light, almost like I heard his thought, and there weren’t actual words proceeding from his cute lips. How could I, though? Stop the spark of the moment as though I was unaware of what was just about to erupt? It felt wicked.

  His words turned out to be the perfect medicine I needed for the moment. The warmth from the moist air sitting on my tender chin had me craving desperately for contact.

  Courage surged into me from his lips. I discovered I could go nowhere, and then I didn’t even want to. I would be right there, even if the heavens fell.

  Rashford drew me closer and crushed his lips on mine. The voices of a thousand feet pitter-pattering around us seemed like so many hushed crawls of children who were trying not to disturb kissing adults.

  I felt lost in a deep blue sea. Rashford’s luscious lips were all I could think about, and suddenly, all I ever wanted. He seemed aware of it, or my lips were what he also craved. We kissed on like that for several minutes, daring the forces to do their best and discover that Rashford and I were inseparable.

  Suddenly, a glass item shattered onto the ground beside us. Small fragments of the glass pierced us, and that was something that couldn’t be ignored. I grunted as I contained a yelp. Rashford also concealed his emotions quite well.

  It was only when we disentangled from each other’s grip that I realized the gravity of the earlier announcement. As I pondered, the yell came to me once again.

  How could we have heard that The Massacars were coming and stand still? The stupidest thing to do in Bevy High was to stand in the way of a frat group that involved members who were all out for attack.

  It would be insane to try to see who they had in mind. A voice heralded their presence. I remembered the voice that had screamed earlier specifically warned, “M Men on invasion!” M Men on invasion was the worst of all the warnings that could ring through the high school walls.

  I looked around me; everyone in the room was putting on the same white top and yellow chinos; only Rashford and I wore different outfits. The boys came over and dragged Rashford from me. I couldn’t fight them; my instincts only wanted to let go now. I didn’t want to be caught in a web of trouble.

  Did I initially say that Rashford and I were inseparable? We were like sweet plantain.

  All I wanted now was freedom—complete freedom and nothing more. I’ve often heard the senior students say that M Men were fond of putting other students in very awkward situations. They would cause the trouble and make you suffer, but in the end, they had their way of making one seem like the culprit so that the school authorities would have the innocent punished for a crime the frats members had committed.

  “You didn’t hear the warning?” A tough-looking guy was saying into Rashford’s face, holding him high enough so that his legs were wiggling freely in the air.

  I realized that Rashford was only tall when I was standing beside him. Compared to these guys, he was no more than a cockroach.

  “Let me go!” The initially courageous, sweet plantain Rashford screamed his attempt to feign courage, despite failing miserably.

  “You had your chance, but you chose to stay; why do you want to go now?” One of the cutest members of the gang said from a distance. I could tell he was only an inch or two taller than Rashford, but he had a menacing look on him that made a vague attempt to conceal just how cute he was.

  “Let him go!” I suddenly found myself screaming. Within me, I knew this wasn’t about my love...or lust for Rashford. I was now certain that we only wanted to give ourselves to the passion of the moment. I simply screamed because I wanted to draw the attention of those cute boys. I wanted to feel the strength of being a lady among thirteen fearless members of the most dangerous fraternity in high school.

  The cute Asian-American smiled as he looked in my direction. I remained seated on the floor, feigning as though the minor pain in my foot was worse than just a small glass cut.

  The Asian came over to me; “So, you want your boyfriend to be freed?” He had an interesting accent. I found myself imagining his s
mall lips on mine, despite the circumstances.

  “Let him go, you cowards!” I screamed into his face while wishing I could pull it close and kiss him.

  “Really? It’s that way?” The Asian-American laughed in my face. I could see a speck of food stuck between his teeth. I wondered why the others hadn’t told him.

  “Please, let him go.” I pleaded, forgetting even what I was pleading for but desperate to have longer with this charmer.

  “Should we take you instead?” The huge guy holding Rashford inquired, without taking his face off my boyfriend.

  I felt insulted by his distraction. “Can’t I just keep the conversation going between me and this cute face?” I thought, but as a response to his question, I found myself croaking; “Yes. Just let him go.”

  The Asian-American laughed, “Then we’d have you both,” he concluded, and beckoned to some of his henchmen who swaggered over to where I sat and blindfolded my eyes with a filthy rag.

  I remained silent as they carried me along. I made mental sense of the pattern we walked through; at first, it seemed like we were heading for the field outside, but later I was convinced we were going to the biology laboratory.

  Eventually, the blindfold was removed, and I realized that we had been brought into the basketball court, the same spot where Mandy and I had chanted ‘Go Eagles!’ for so long.

  The fraternity members assembled themselves in one of the most organized ways I’d ever seen. I remembered that only two of them spoke. The others were there only to emphasize the fact that their presence symbolized terror. I shivered. How could a group of students have this much confidence?

  They tied me to a chair, restraining only enough movement for me to breathe. They had Rashford tied to another chair right in front of me.

  “So, here is the deal.” The Asian-American guy poked his head between Rashford and me. “We have an operation tonight and would be glad to follow your lead.”

  “We’ll follow you nowhere!” I found myself yelling while Rashford, still blindfolded, tilted his head in my direction and nodded. The blindfold wasn’t covering his mouth, but I knew he had stayed mute because I had already spoken his mind.

  “Okay...” the commander said. “One of you will lead us, while the other may not.”

  I watched as Rashford suddenly wiggled to set himself free, and two punches landed on his sides from two menacing boys.

  “Please, I’m an only child!” Rashford yelled.

  I was momentarily shocked... in fact, I was utterly surprised. The same Rashford that had promised to stand by me under any circumstances was already giving in to slight pressure. I could sense his fear. He had clearly personalized the problem; I am an only child too, and a lady for that matter. If anyone was supposed to make a personal plea, I was in the best position.

  “So, you will be leading us tonight?” The commander of the troop said to Rashford, as though he, too, was trying to confirm my boyfriend’s cowardice.

  “No! You can take her, please let me go!” Rashford screamed.

  I was shocked again. I had never felt a deep love for Rashford, but he was the closest I had been to that. I expected at least a fraction of all his confessions to me to be true. Now that he denied me so blatantly, I could only bow in shame.

  “Rashford!” I found myself screaming.

  “I am sorry, Justina, but I have to live. I have to live.” My Rashford shook so fearfully that I could smell the odor of his piss.

  “You are terrible, Rashford.”

  “So much for love.” The Asian guy said as his minions uncovered Rashford’s face. “So, for one last time, piss man, tell her to her face that you want her to face the danger of our terrible mission tonight because it has to be you or her.”

  The leader of the troop was very experienced; he knew that the words of a blindfolded man might not carry as much weight as when his face was uncovered. He ensured, very pleasantly, that Rashford was convinced of his decision.

  “What was he afraid of, anyway?” I wondered.

  Normally, everyone feared The Massacars. They had the most members in the school, and they were completely fearless, but in all their dealings, no one said they were unfair. Unlike the Buccaneers and HXH who were ruthless. I had hoped that that knowledge might give Rashford a little courage.

  “Justina. Please do this for us.” was all my boyfriend had to say.

  I looked into his eyes - those eyes of deceit that had reassured me so many times that he would always be there for me. I shook my head and watched as the boys released the bounds around him. Rashford stood on the spot for some seconds, enjoying the relief his hands felt after being freed from the ropes.

  Then, like Judas, he pranced towards me to whisper into my ear. The frat guys allowed him to come at me, and we all realized he wasn’t coming to whisper but to give me a good luck kiss.

  As his disgusting spittle remained on my face, the only thing I wanted to do was stab him as hard as I could. “Bloody Judas!”

  I screamed as he pranced out of the court, the patch of urine still stupidly conspicuous on his flat buttocks.

  “That’s how life is, girl. You have to get used to that.” The leader said, but I wasn’t in the mood for any advice, especially not from a gang of violent frats who were keen to ruin my relationship.

  “So, what is the mission?” I spat. If my boyfriend was a coward, I needed to show them that I was of a completely different breed.

  “Fun!” He said.

  “Fun?” I inquired, my vocal cords exposing my fear. They were going to have fun with me? I began to shiver quietly inside.

  “We are going out to have fun. We just wanted an accomplice.” The leader declared, and every member of the gang burst into a pearl of laughter.

  Now I got it; we were all going out to catch some fun. I was amused. I could already see the shocked expression on my boyfriend’s face when he saw me the following day without scars.

  I would also be there to see the shock in reality though. The boys around me undid the ropes. Each of them had a big grin on his face. I felt happy too; rolling with the most dangerous guys in school without having to be dangerous.

  “We are sorry for scaring you. We always like those who have enough courage to stay when we are approaching. Sometimes, we are not really out for the havoc.”

  I was nodding like a college girl, admiring this team of harmless gentlemen.

  “So, what is your name?” I asked finally. It was obvious the Asian-American was also interested in me; I could see it in his eyes. Surely, though, I wasn’t going to have anything serious with the leader of a fraternity? I was just going to be a normal friend, just to make sure I had his assurance when I needed to deal more emphatically with a coward like Rashford.

  “I’m Sun. And you are Justina Malbort.” He declared with a face that was far away.

  I quivered. How did he know my name? The feeling was like I had just had an autograph signed by Angelina Jezerel. I felt really elated and I kept asking myself, “Am I sure nothing serious will happen between us?”

  Chapter 2

  “Justina!” An unmistakable voice yelled down the corridor.

  I didn’t bother to stare back at the shouter. “Why is he here?” I asked myself. “The bloody coward!”

  I slammed my locker and walked away from it, in a direction away from the source of the voice.

  “Justina, seriously, please wait!”

  I continued walking. He started jogging after me, and then he ran a little faster to cross my path and he stood in front of me when I arrived at the door.

  “What do you want?” I asked, without looking at his face. Even if I looked at it, it wasn’t as if I was going to feel anything but pity anyway, I was only trying to make my indifference obvious.

  “Justina, I am...I am...”

  “Please cut to the chase, I don’t have all day!” I insisted with a stiff frown, hoping that he would continue stuttering and then I’d have enough justification to push him out
of the way.

  “Justina, I am really sorry for what I did to you yesterday. Although...I must be honest, I am really shocked to see you without...’

  Scars. That was the word the fool was searching for in his heart, but something told him that the scars might not have been obvious, but they were surely there.

  “Rashford, the only scars I feel are the scars you put there. If you can’t see them then you are as blind as you are a coward!” Now I was only an inch away from pushing him off the path, but I needed the final trigger. “Will you get out of my face or should I move you out?”

  “Er...er...Justina. I am really sorry. Please don’t hate me for being a human. I am human and I have human instincts.”

  “Thanks for making me realize I am superhuman for not pissing on myself simply because a gang of boys were trying to threaten me. You left me for dead, Rashford. I will never forget that!” I said in his face, attracting a few stares in our direction, but the last thing I cared about at this point were the stares from people around.

  Rashford was polite enough to move aside as I walked to the door as if he wasn’t there, a smug look wrinkling my face.

  I knew the chaos that must be in Rashford’s mind. He had not even had the sweet chance to explore my sexual skills. He was still desperately trying, and I had been there, ready to give out to him, but waiting for something I didn’t know I was waiting for. It turned out to be the test of his confession, and, luckily for me, he failed miserably.

  I walked a little further hoping to see my mom parked in the parking lot. Her blue sedan wasn’t there.

  She was terrified when I had come home late the previous night. I told her that I was with Elizabeth and we were working on a project. She promised to call Elizabeth later, and so I sent my BFF a text message.

  Elizabeth had not been in school for three days, she was down with the flu, but my mom didn’t know this, so when I sold her the story she believed it immediately. Anyway, I didn’t leave a busy nurse with much choice.