Monday morning I was always faced with the hardest decision: how much should I break the dress code today? All the clothes I had were more revealing than the dress code allowed, but the whole thing was way too modest for a seventeen year old girl who goes to a public high school. Like, come on.
I decided on a tight black skirt and a super cropped hot pink tank top. It showed off my new belly button piercing, too. I had it pierced a few weeks ago.
And I was nominated for homecoming queen, surprise surprise. My dress is bright, neon pink. It has sequins on the skirt part. The dress is skintight, it has a really low v-neckline, and it's super short. Like my butt is almost out. But I look stunning, so of course I had to get it.
I slipped on my pink dunks, grabbed a granola bar, my backpack, my keys and went out to my car to leave for school. I drove a black Audi Q8.
It took me 10 minutes to get to school every morning, even though my house was only 4 minutes away. I always stopped to get a Caramel Ribbon Crunch Frappuccino from Starbucks. And $7 later, I was on my way.
Of course I had bought a customizable senior parking spot on the first day of school. I was tired of walking through the snowy parking lot every morning in the winter like a homeless person.
I painted my spot pink and spray painted red kiss marks using stencils. Someone added “Queen Bee '' to the top end of the spot in black letters, but it looked cute and it was obviously true, so I left it and didn’t report it.
I walked into school and my girls jumped in at my sides. My main group is Betty, Este, Alana, and Danielle, but Hannah Pool and Avani Zackman were my real girls. They did most of my dirty work, and they didn’t judge me as much for hoeing my way around the school.
Like every other day so far, a few of the freshman boys tried to hit on me. It was honestly super funny. They weren’t smooth at all and they tried too hard. If they were at least a sophomore, then I’d probably try it, but not freshman. Not 14 year olds. I’m not a fucking pedophile.
After a few minutes of gossiping in the cafeteria, the warning bell rang, which meant five minutes until first period started. Hannah and Avani walked off to their joint first period class, while I walked to go to cosmetology. I planned to go to cosmetology school after graduation in the spring, and my school had an intro class for it that seniors could take.
On the way there, I ran into James. Like I rammed into him. I was too busy looking at Hannah’s newest Instagram post.
He glared down at me and took out his AirPod. “God, watch where you’re going,” he growled.
“Attitude much? What’s wrong with you, you slept by yourself last night? Aw, poor James, maybe I should call up a wambulance. Grow the fuck up,” I said.
“You grow the fuck up, bitch. It’s not about you. We were supposed to go to the lakehouse over the weekend, and I’m pissed because my mom got sick so we didn’t go. Now we’re not gonna go until spring, I won’t see those friends until then since they live so far away from here,” he said.
The Young’s lakehouse. On the Fourth of July weekend, James had a huge party up at his lakehouse, and a ton of people went. Everyone got wasted, except Betty who went home with Este that night. The night I hooked up with James.
Betty and Este left around 8 that night. I was playing beer pong with James and some of his friends who had lakehouses up there. We got drunk, completely wasted, and I slept with James. I ended up sleeping with a few of his friends that week, too, but that’s not the point.
I gave him a snotty look and shoulder checked him as I walked away into the classroom.
*******
My favorite part of the day: lunchtime.
Este and Cam went off campus for lunch today, so there were two extra spots at our table. James hasn’t sat with us since I told everyone. He hides in the bathroom and drinks the vodka he puts in his water bottle.
I set my stuff down at my seat and went to the microphone to do my midday announcements.
I tapped the microphone, making sure it was properly connected.
“Hello, fellow seniors! I hope y’all are having a great start to your week. As a reminder, the homecoming bake sale is all this week during lunch. The table is by the west door, with the turquoise table cover. Another reminder than the homecoming dance is next Saturday, starting at 7 p.m. and going until 10:30. Tickets can be purchased all next week during lunch or at the door. Single tickets are $6, and couples tickets are $10.
“Shoutout to the boys and girls cross country teams, who both got third place at the meet on Saturday. Leading senior on the boys team was Liam Harloe, who ran a 17:13, and the leading senior on the girls team was Haley McNamara, who ran a 20:24. Great job to all of our cross country runners, keep up the amazing work. That’s all for today. Go Hurricanes!” I said.
A few people clapped, and I turned and went back to my seat. After a minute or two, James came stumbling in the west doors. He went up to the microphone and tapped it, the way I do.
“I have something to say,” he said. “I know I haven’t been liked a lot recently, because of recent events that came out. But I have something to say. I had sex with Inez at my Fourth of July party. Yes, I was still dating Betty and yes, I was seeing Augustine in secret at that point, too. Thank you,” he said.
James stumbled back out the doors he came from and then the whole cafeteria turned to look at me.
A sly smile crept onto my face.
“Come on, don’t act so surprised. I take my role as class whore very seriously. There is no way that nobody saw this coming,” I announced, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Mumbles started echoing across the room.
“Of course you did, you little bitch,” Augustine said as she passed by.
I sneered at her. “Did you really expect me not to? There’s been rumors about me being pregnant since I was fourteen, this doesn’t even bother me anymore. I just think it’s funny that everyone is still surprised when it gets out that I slept with someone else,” I replied.
“Bitch,” she mumbled as she walked away, back to where Dorothea was sitting.
“Damn right,” I said aloud.
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