The guy, who looks like my boyfriend from a distance, but like a fool up close, is Aaron.
He told me he was “busy.”
His head is practically touching the table to avoid my line of vision. Sadly, that doesn’t help, as his friends move out of the way when I call his name.
I’m not playing the clingy, jealous, loud girlfriend today. First of all, I’m laying low. Second of all, Sarah could just use my weakness to her advantage.
My friends are looking to me. Cas especially is waiting for a crazy reaction, but I won’t give one.
I just go back to slurping my drink.
It’s the slut of Clarenton, just enjoying a caffeinated beverage. Nothing to see here.
Cas, Sophie, and LeAnn go back to their normal chatter, and I focus on drinking.
Once we’re all finished, we head out.
As I place my empty cup in a trash can, a hand tugs on mine.
“I didn’t know you’d be here,” he says.
“Saxby’s? My favorite coffee place?” I ask, unimpressed with his excuse.
“If you didn’t want to hang out, you could have just said that,” I say… in as normal a tone as I could.
He sighs, “I thought I should give you some space.”
“Okay, well give me space then,” I tug away from him.
“You okay?” LeAnn asks as I finally join the group.
I feign indifference and say, “Let’s just go to the mall.”
We travel into the city because the shopping centers in our area only consist of Target, Dollar General, and McDonald’s. Driving around in circles, especially in our town, where every street looks the same, gets boring quickly.
Stuff is a little more expensive, but you’re guaranteed high quality, and we can afford it.
In fact, Soph would probably live in a penthouse in Manhattan if her mom hadn’t moved here. Even while telling glamorous stories about models, actors, and artists, Ms. Carrolton never failed to establish her humility. Despite the occasional designer handbag or expensive perfume, Sophie’s mom maintained a normal life. Sophie insists that her mom moved them into the suburbs to punish her. She prefers a luxurious lifestyle.
I’m fine with the suburbs, but the city’s more intriguing.
As we pull into Columbus Mall, we see some familiar faces: people from school and in our county. The one day that I don’t want to be recognized…
Some stereotypical friend groups are hanging out: the super rich and popular girls who shop like they don't already have enough clothes, the "edgy" girls who are just the super rich stereotype in disguise, the jocks who come here to pick up said rich girls, and then there's the normal people.
I’d like to think of myself as one of the normal people, assuming that any of us are “normal.”
The “edgy” girls wear all black and pretend to hate everything when we all know their black chokers were bought with daddy’s money. In a way, they’re worse than the flat stereotype because they pretend to be something they’re not.
“Gen, Gen,” someone calls faintly.
“Hey, bitch,” Cas barks.
I jerk my head toward her.
“What is it?” I hiss.
“We’re going into Victoria’s Secret,” she points. “Are you coming or are you going to keep staring into the abyss?”
“I’m coming, I’m coming.”
Doesn’t she have a way with words?
“Ooh, you should get this for—” LeAnn starts.
“Let me stop you right there. If I get any lingerie, it’s going to be for myself, not him,” Cas emphasizes.
This sparks my intrigue. “Who?”
She snaps up, “No, we’re not doing this.”
“What?” I ask, taken aback.
“That blonde lacrosse player at Columbia,” Sophie says nonchalantly, while still staring at her phone.
Cas gets frustrated, “I told you that in confidence.”
She looks to LeAnn for support, but she just shrugs sympathetically.
“It can’t be that confident if clarenton secrets found out,” Sophie chuckles.
Cas rolls her eyes, “Once I figure out who runs that fucking account… if not only for my own presence on the shit, then for the sake of Gen’s reputation, I will be causing physical harm to them.”
“Let’s not promote violence—” LeAnn says lowly.
“That bitch or bitches deserves anything they get for posting private shit with ill intent,” Cas responds.
“Wait, what lacrosse player?” I rub my chin.
Cas looks everywhere in the room but to me.
She finally huffs, “I didn’t tell you anything because I know how judgmental you can be.”
Me? Judgmental?
My jaw literally drops. I’m anything but judgmental. What the hell? Sophie is the poster child for judgment… why the fuck did she get to know?
“You know how you can be,” she tilts her head, expecting me to agree.
“No, I don’t know,” I cross my arms.
“Remember the last guy I told you about?”
“The elderly man with 10 kids and a wife?!”
“He was 33, separated from the wife, and he only had 2 kids,” she says flatly. Is that any better?
“That sounds exactly like what I said…”
She rolls her eyes, “Just admit that you’re ageist.”
LeAnn and Sophie decide to venture over to the PINK side of the store, probably to make sure people didn’t think we came together. Cas is making a little commotion.
“We’re 17 and he’s 33,” I settle. Am I being unreasonable?
“I told him I was 18,” she shrugs. Dear God.
I frown, “Cas, there are plenty of guys our age,” I emphasize, “that will like you for who you are. That guy only wants one thing from someone below his age group.”
I feel so mature giving advice. Without me, where would these girls be?
“Yeah, and I wanted that one thing, too. Once I got it, the relationship ended.”
I forgot that she’s always in control, or so she thinks. I still think she’s playing with fire.
“So, the lacrosse player?” I change the subject.
She smiles, “He’s so fine, and I’m just happy that he accepts me for me, you know. He’s not some old guy fetishizing me because he can’t get anyone else.”
“So you admit the other guy was old…” I interject.
She pouts, “He’s not even the oldest I’ve talked to, but I do acknowledge that he’s a little mature.”
Right, a little mature.
She looks down, “It’s just hard to find a guy who genuinely likes girls that aren’t a size 5 with tiny waists.”
I pull her into a hug. I know this is something she’s struggled with for a while. Teenage boys aren’t really mature enough to handle a girl with meat on her bones. They go for the tall and skinny girls, and the girls don’t deserve hate for that, but it’s true that things are easier for them. No matter how many body positive movements and activists we have, I still feel like girls with great personalities and beauty will be held back because of their weight. I don’t want Cas to be stuck with any old guy online or random horny teen that will give her short-term attention. She maintains control usually, but it can easily be taken.
I whisper, “I just want you to be safe… and no more old guys until you’re 18.”
She giggles, “Lacrosse boy is only 18.”
“I haven’t heard the best things about lacrosse guys… but I’m sure he’s decent, if you say he is,” I finish.
Some girl snickers behind us. I, being a little paranoid, turn to see if we’re the object of her amusement, and to my surprise, I’m correct.
Sarah’s evil twin, Miley Campbell, is pointing at us and laughing behind a kiosk near the store’s entrance.
“Pussy,” Cas says, disgusted. I can tell she wants her to come over and say just what she’s laughing at, but I don’t want us to get thrown out.
“Just forget her. Let’s find LeAnn and Soph.”
Miley’s not biologically Sarah’s twin, but they are both evil bitches, so if the shoe fits…
When Sarah and I had our falling out, she turned to Miley for companionship. Little did we all know, Miley would turn Sarah into a hateful, scheming cunt. I tried to make up with her, but her new “friend” got her to turn against her old ones…
Cas is still holding on to the old Sarah that she thinks is still in that 5’5 and well-manicured lump of flesh.
Miley and I look a little similar, so at least we know Sarah hasn’t lost all her taste.
We find LeAnn and Sophie at a pretzel shop, and I relax. Food is something we can all agree on… mostly. It only gets weird when LeAnn tries to say that mustard is good on fish. No, just no. “Yes, food,” Cas sighs. “Oh, we’re just getting drinks,” Sophie points at their cups. I can see the disappointment on Cas’s face. “Well, I want food,” she points to herself, “and Gen wants food, so you guys can go on and just text us where you’ll be.” Casandra can switch from my role model to my child in seconds. Food waits on no one. We agree to share a pizza, sa
“Last night was amazing,” Aaron texts. Ehh, it sufficed. I reply with a red heart… I don’t know if I have the right words right now. I have my first day of orientation for my volunteer work at Marie’s Soups in Manhattan. It’s a nonprofit organization that feeds New York’s homeless population. They have locations all over the state. It looks good on college applications, but in general, I like helping people get the bare minimum that they require. Everyone should be able to live comfortably. It’s always baffled me how we have enough resources in the world to feed everyone, yet millions of people are left starving. I blame bil
“Jason, go away,” Claire yells ahead of us. “No, you go away,” he barks back. “My brother,” she whispers back at me. “Oh,” I nod. He stops in his tracks, turning around once he heard a second set of footsteps. “No,” Claire asserts. “No, no, no.” My expression morphs into bewilderment because of her outburst. She shares a knowing expression with Jason. Stabbing her index finger at him, she continues, “No. Go to your room. Please.” “Wait,” he smirks, “I want to know the name of this lovely lady you’ve brought home.” I grimace at his boldness. Some things don’t need to be said. Claire rolls her eyes in annoyance. “Gen, Jason,” she points between us, “Jason, Gen.” Sighing, she says, “Okay, you’ve met. Now, go away.” He smiles coyly, then throws his hands up in defeat. I can tell he’s annoying, but that’s how big brothers are. What’s the real reason she doesn’t want me to meet him? We
“Genny,” she hums in a singsong tone. “Hmm?” I ask impatiently. She should remember from all the other times: I hate taking care of drunk people. Of course, I’d do it every time for a friend. I don’t want her to get hurt because then it’ll be on me. When she’s in this state, I’m responsible for her. I only hate it because it hurts to see her like this. She doesn’t look like she’s having fun. Sophie can’t have fun when it comes to alcohol. She binges, and she gets sad. I take each crucial step towards Sophie's white marble-lined pool in silence. She's propped up on the back of some guy, clearly out of her god damn mind. Once I reach the edge of the marble, I slump down and put my feet in. "Sophie." "Hmm?" she hums, looking up at me with glossy eyes. The guy under her rolls his eyes and places her down. "Who wants to play chicken?" he asks, averting his attention to the other bikini-clad girls in the pool. After momentari
Friday My palms are sweaty, and there’s only one reason. He’s the only reason. Less than a foot away, I can smell his cologne. I knew it when I entered the party. This is far too elegant to be just a “party,” which I knew full well. But, to calm my nerves, I referred to it as “just a frat party.” It’s not like I haven’t been to one before. The first I went to was with Sophie, actually. Maybe I should have realized then that she had a problem. We were 16. It looked very different than this, though. It smelled like old socks and body odor. Sweaty guys ran around the house, and a thick mist surrounded us. Everyone here is classy, put together, and intimidating.
That asshole left me feeling awkward because of the situation that he created. And who was that guy calling him. He looked pretty rough for a posh gathering on the Upper East Side. His spiked hair was cut short, and it glistened stiffly under the mood lights. The black sleeves of his clean cut button-up were pulled to his forearms, revealing an array of colorful tattoos. This man looks gang-affiliated, not to put it lightly. What the hell is he in a fraternity for? Whatever, he’s not my concern. I prod over to where Nick and Cas were sucking face, and lightly tap her shoulder. “Can we go?” I pout like a 5 year old.
“Wow,” Aaron looks at me with hungry eyes. Usually I would enjoy his attention, but right now I feel awkward, like I’m under a microscope. He rubs his chin, ruffling the ginger stubble. Dad lightly taps the table. That’s his tell—when he’s slowly growing impatient or aggravated. I can sense the wheels of thought turning in his brain. “Where exactly were you?” “I forgot to tell you. I went to a party with Casandra.” Aaron shifts uncomfortably. “Oh, okay. Just remember to tell us,” he finishes. Phew.
My senses stop functioning for a second, and when they return, that god-awful smell lingers in her wake.I’d been resigned in my decision. I wasn’t going to make any more snarky commentary, I wasn’t going to see him outside of this setting, and I most definitely wasn’t going to meet him in his office.And yet I found myself placing one foot after the other on the way into that very place.After lightly shutting the door, I wait for some type of response or indication from him. He probably just wants to increase my morale or something.Instead, he focuses harder on whatever document he’s holding, and we remain in silence.“Umm, you called for me?” I ask shakily.With the same distant and lightly cool expression as ever, he gestures to the seat in front of him.I take a shallow gulp and sit down. What the hell is this about?“You’re in high school.”I know it&rsqu