How to Destroy a Badboy
How to Destroy a Badboy
Author: Vendite Johnson
Chapter One


For me, Mondays are always the worst day in a week.

I slept late last night after rushing my homework in Literature, which was supposed to be done first thing last Friday, but unfortunately, I wasn’t able to space some time up to make it; instead, I was up partying and binge drinking all night at some random house party. I ended up wasted the very next day, and it even got extended until the very next day, and yet I woke up thirty minutes earlier than my alarm clock. This is the worst thing that keeps on happening to me.

I pleaded for the mercy of sleep to pull me back to dreamland, but it won’t just come. At this very moment, I'm beginning to be positively convinced that my alarm clock and I should probably exchange places. Maybe I could wake up my alarm clock in that sense.

I took too long standing under the lukewarm shower, just long enough to compensate with how early I woke up, and by the time I was out in the shower, my mom was almost done preparing food for our breakfast. I didn't eat that much. I just had a glass of warm milk and a sandwich that I immediately threw in the trash can after a couple of bites without the knowledge of my mom. Honestly speaking, I'm starting to become a little bit conscious about my weight just after I heard my sister said that I was getting fat.


After breakfast, I ended up having to suffer critically in the passenger’s seat of my mother's minivan, and when I say critically, I mean having to listen to her talk and talk and talk. Mom ground me with several questions, the same questions she’d been asking for literally like every single day. This is not some sort of a job interview or a quiz bee, and I hate being interrogated with things that don’t attract my interest. Though I was extra thankful that my sister doesn’t give a single damn thing about my shitty life and so she plugged her earphones and played some Taylor Swift song in maximum volume so she won't have to hear any of mom's hopeless romantic dramas and aspirations in life. That was the one thing with my mom that makes her different from other moms; she was a hopeless romantic kind of person, in a positive prospect, it was effectively uplifting when you’re kind of down, but in a negative context, it was staggeringly despicable and annoying.

"When will you get yourself a girlfriend, sweetie?" As she drove, she asked about that thing again for the god knows how many times.

It became a habit of her every time she drives us to school, and frankly, it was more irritating day by day. I couldn't just tell her that I’m gay and that I don't like girls and twats for that specific reason.

“Mom, I don’t want to talk about those kinds of things right now,” I said, rolling my eyes in high hopes of shutting her down.

“How about Yhannie Thomas? She’s quite a pretty girl and, you know she’s rich” She was smiling in a dreamy manner that it seemed very inappropriate at her standpoint. “She could be a perfect mother for my grandchildren, oh, and I want dozens of them.”

"Jesus, mom, seriously? She’s just my best friend, and aren't you glad that I'm more focused and committed to my studies than doing stuff like that?" I reminded her of my voice getting higher and higher as she rounded a corner.

Yhannie Thomas is my best friend, and the thought of her being my actual girlfriend is cracking all of my bones.

"Of course, I'm more than glad for you, honey, and I'm so proud of you. I'm a blessed mother with blessed children and a blessed family,” She paused a little bit, took a deep sigh and then continued. “But you know Nick, it would be best if you---,"

"Mom, please we are not talking about this right now, I didn’t have a good night sleep" I cut her off with my flippant sleepy voice instantly avoiding further bothering instances because if by any chance she goes crazy again, which always happens to her, she will start delivering an impromptu speech about how beautiful life is and that I should be spending some of my spare time dating someone. I know she’s right about that latter point, but I like what I’ve said, I don’t want girls, but I also don’t want to move out of my closet.

I’m afraid of getting judged by everyone, and to be true to myself, whether I'm gay or not, I'm clearly not and probably will never be interested in the creepy idea of actually dating someone. I’m afraid of commitment and fidelity and all those kinds of stuff. I think I'm quite enjoying the unlimited privileges of being a single teenager. The unique feeling was exceedingly satisfying rather than being tied up into a relationship that, I know for a fact, would eventually end up into a grievous breakup after a lot of PDA’s, making out and sex.

"Okay, honey, okay! Calm down, I do respect your decisions, and as a mother, I am forever grateful that you are not a disappointment to us” She heaved, smiling from ear to ear, and just when I thought she was finished about her blabber session she began talking again. “But please, honey, just tell me if there's someone you like, I can help you with that," She said giving me a wink as if she was willing to be Robin if I was Batman.

My mom dropped me at school for thirty minutes or so before the bell. As usual, I found myself shooting the breeze with my squad. We spent the early minutes carrying on to the highlights of our social calendar. Standing outside of our classroom, we huddled in a semi-circle as we talked about small things like how was the final episode of The Walking Dead last night and stuff like that.

“I think Negan’s going for Abraham,” Zach said, standing beside me.

Zach is the most hyper in our group, and he often shouts and screams and jumps whenever he’s extremely happy, which is honestly embarrassing at some point. But I think he’s just acting like that because he wanted someone to notice him. Much like me, he’s been single for like the whole year of high school.

“I think you’re wrong, he’s going for Glenn” I heard Ivan talk calmly.

Ivan, on the contrary, is the timidest and reserved of all, but he can sometimes be very violent when someone messes up with him. When he was in middle school, he had some time struggling with managing his anger, but after our school’s guidance counselor recommended him to some therapy session, he became very timid that made us all wonder how much the therapy affected him.

“Yeah, he’s probably going for Glenn. I mean, there were rumors about Glenn’s imminent death, and I think his time has finally come,” I agreed with Ivan.

“No, trus—“

“Wait, is that Valentine and Valerie?” Yhannie said, cutting Zach off from defending his proposition. She pointed directly towards Valerie and Valentine, who are kissing torridly at the opposite corner of our spot.

Yhannie is the only girl in the group. Just to clear things up, she’s not a lesbian or boyish or anything negative that you might want to think of her. As a matter of fact, she’s a sizzling hot chick. She’s a real head turner and a trendsetter on her own. The only reason why she was with us is that she hates backstabbers like how her previous squad stabbed her in the back. She prefers guys as friends because she thinks they inhibit less drama and that they are straight forward.

I don’t know about that, though.

Yhannie and I were actually closer than the rest. If it weren’t for the reason that she caught me making out with a guy I just met on Grindr, then I wouldn’t be forced to make a deal with her so that she won’t be blabbering that I’m gay.

That would be a massive disaster for me.

With that being said, being close to her and having her being the only one who knows about my sexuality makes me more comfortable whenever I’m around her. I mean, I can be who I am around her with no one judging me, and I guess that made our bond stronger.

“Damn, son!” Zach whispered awestruck as he glued his eyes on Valentine and Valerie.

Valentine was one of the few guys in this school that have been hit by puberty real hard. He has this average masculine build that quite familiar to every jocks, his eyes were strikingly and uniquely dyed jet black that seemed to pull you close like a black hole whenever you stare at it, his lips were so kissable, and of course, he got that style that seemed attractive mostly for insecure girls. He’s basically the definition of perfection in close comparison to Adonis, but he’s definitely a sworn fuckboy and a total playboy slash heartbreaker slash Casanova. I’ve been hearing a lot of gossips about how many girls he played and how he leaves them after he got what he wants, which was obviously the pleasure of sex. Well, it’s precisely more of a newsflash rather than gossip, but I want to put it that way so it will sound even more negative than it already sounds. I do remember seeing him last week going out with Tatiana and look at him now; he’s making out with Valerie.

“How does he do that?” Ivan asked, standing parallel from me.

“Do what?” The three of us responded in unison.

“You know, get to hit on every pretty girl around here. I hate to say it, but there’s almost nothing left for us” Ivan explained his point, and I was starting to hear some kind of leveling frustration and jealousy eating him from the inside out.

“Well, I’m still here” Raising her hands, Yhannie harrumphed, trying to catch our attention.

“We know that Yhannie, but you’re our best friend and friends don’t go on hitting on each other, so technically we can’t hit on you,” I said awkwardly. Deep inside, I’m barfing.

I began giving them some gestures to get inside the classroom so that our conversation would be out of earshot.

“Yeah, Dominic’s right. It will probably look like incest if we do that” Zach aired speaking again with his perverted choice of words that we don’t understand whether if he’s joking around or he’s just making the situation awkward purposely.

“Just don’t linger around that bastard” I began cutting the boundaries of awkwardness that’s started to engulf our conversation.

Like what I’ve said earlier, Monday was the worst day in a week, or maybe at least for me because our subjects are too uptight with geology being the first subject for this day followed by mathematics and history. What I mean by uptight is that I hated all of them, it’s either they’re not my forte, or they’re just the worst subject in high school. But honestly, I hate all of my subjects; actually, to speak in a broader spectrum, I wouldn't say I like the whole idea of high school itself.

Today’s lesson is something about mining, and I thought it was pretty inconvenient, I mean we are not mining engineers, and we are certainly not miners, but I guess we don’t have much of a choice but to pretend as if we are listening. But before Mrs. Price started talking nonsense about mining and rocks, she was festively in the mood for an immediate activity by pairs to know how much we know about mining first hand; she even has this piece of bond paper where she’d already paired us. She began reading the names of pairs. I crossed my fingers, hoping that I would be paired with someone else who can actually contribute something essential. I’m very allergic to getting low scores. I wish to be paired with neither Zach nor Yhannie, even if they are my friends, they don’t understand the point of working by pair. Zach is so loud, and his ideas were dumber as he is dumb. Yhannie, on the other hand, is lazy and is just relying on me to do all the work. Ivan is just about right; he’s the best option for me.

“Jessica Portman and Fergie Fergusson”

“Queenie Brooks and Lance Almassari”

“Ivan Lander and Zachary Dela Vega”

“Yhannie Thomas and Christopher Martin”

“Dominic Warren and Valentine Grande,” Mrs. Price announced my name, and I was doomed.


Right now, right here!

I wanted to faint or blackout or succumb to death if possible.

Valentine Grande, his name might be the most expensive name you can hear in the world but damn his personality is equally cheap, that even the poorest of the poor won’t buy it. His own reputation in this high school is cemented with three spoiled words.

Bully, Jerk, and a Fuckboy.

Although, now that he was already sitting in front of me, I might have to agree with the hundred percent claims of the whole population of this high school that he was strikingly handsome and that he smelled good.

Wait, what?

Damn, I actually never really had the chance to get this close to him, and he was handsome like what most girls say. But despite that, I’m panicking right now. I don’t want to be bullied or degraded or worst, enslaved by this jerk.

“The fuck you starin’ at dude?” He crowed, kicking me in the legs using his strong and powerful soccer legs.

“Awww!!! No…nothing” I noticed myself starting to stutter and fuck it, my weakness is getting at me.

“I’ll answer the first question, and the rest is yours,” Valentine said in a commanding tone grimly staring at me as if I’m his mortal enemy, but yeah, I have to agree with that partially. It was clearly unfair, Mrs. Price gave us five questions. Who knows and who fucking cares about the answer, and this jerk will only answer the first one? Now, where is equality here?


“Got any problem with that?” He glowered at me with his deep black eyes, and I just did nothing and shut my mouth.

I love my face, and I am profoundly and undoubtedly a narcissistic human being, I stare at my face twenty times a day in front of the mirror to feel good about myself. I am spending five bottles of skin moisturizers for my skin every month. I wouldn’t take the risk of getting punched by Valentine. He already kicked me, and it hurts so badly.

No complaints, no black eyes or swollen cheeks.

This is what I’m talking about the cheap jerky personality of a hot mess jock.

“Nope. I don’t have any problem with that,” I blurted almost flinching. “I might as well right down our answers” I volunteered to try to approach him with sarcasm, but my voice came out soft and feeble.

“You should be, cause my fingers are way too lazy to write right now and lucky you, my brains cells are still in the mood” He trailed giving me a hard look, a hard hot one and adding the effect of his messy undercut, it was already making me sweat under my turtleneck. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. Who knows five rounds can be that exhausting,” He whispered, winking at me.

What the fuck is that?

“Okay, okay I got it” I nodded furtively reading the first question written on the board with my sleepy eyes.

“What is mining?” I said loud enough for him to hear.

“What is mining?” He repeated, and I was already convinced that he was thinking for some in-depth answer.

“So.. Uhm, what’s your answer?” I nervously asked.

“Mining eh,” He mumbled, scratching his forehead. “I think mining is the process of making something or someone yours. I mean, if I want you to be mine and I’m on the process of making you mine, then it’s called mining” He blurted with a damn confident grin on his damn face as if he was so sure with his statement.

For a brief stupid second, I stared at him, trying to figure out if he was just joking around, but he’s not. He’s clearly not, and he was damn dead serious with his answer! “So yeah, mining is the process of making you mine.”

Oh, Jesus, praise the Lord. Bless this soul. Amen!

He’s even worse than Zach and Yhannie. This is unbelievably ridiculous; it’s not even funny at all. This is fucking ridiculous, and pathetic and stupid! This is Geology for god’s sake and not a fucking pickup line class or dumb forums for dumb boys.

Valentine is a clear shot joke!

In the end, I have to answer all five of the questions on my own, to the best of my ability with my independent brain, and my own stock knowledge and my trembling hand and my own damn sleepy eyes. Valentine was just there sitting right in front of me playing something on his phone. He’s so insensitive and rude and handsome, and above all of that, he was a dull, stupid fatuous person.

Comments (4)
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Cherry Bacangoy
this is good story ...
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Phia Castelo
this so cool

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