"Stay the h*** away from my boyfriend." Another angry girlfriend yelled at me. I walked away, out of the football field--where the best of the catfights took place--, down the stairs, into the parking lot and into my car. From there, I proceded to call my best friend. There are two problems on being a loser and having your outspoken best friend live out of state: Losers generally can't keep track of whose going out with who or if they try, their head seems to get dizzy and their outspoken best friends who live out of state can't help them when a girlfriend somehow finds out that they like their boyfriends (who the losers didn't know they had in the first place) and wants to kick their butt.
"What up, Rache?" She bits into her sandwhich. "You can guess." She takes another bite, not seeming to care that I'm only ditching the rest of this period and then finding another place to hide during lunch so that the angry girlfriend and her possy can't find me. A place other than the library.
"A Darren-like incident?" She asks, though she already knows the answer. She's reffering to 8th grade, when I had a huge crush on my worst-enemy-turned-friend. One of my "friends" accidently or maybe purposely, told his girlfriend that I liked him. So, to give you the short version, she told my "friend" to tell me basically what the angry girlfriend just told me.Courtney was ticked off and wanted me to get revenge. She had more ideas than I'd thought possible. I told her that I wouldn't do them and she was already five hours away at that point so she couldn't do anything unless she took the five hour drive overnight, which I would not put past her, but her parents wouldn't let her. I lived the rest of the last two weeks of school in shame.
"Yup." I was hoping that she would come and bail me out because having a crush on someone's boyfriend in high school is twenty times worse than in 8th grade. In 8th grade, your revenge choices are limited, since you can't drive a car or anything. In high school, however, the choices are unlimited.
"Can't help ya. They put me on lockdown til Friday at 3:30. Sorry." Courtney was known for her partying ways, even down here. She'd been hung-over and drug-overdosed more times than I could count, She never even cared if it was a weekday. Weekends were free-for-alls, considering how I knew about all her whereabouts and could contact her parents if she called and told me she was using cocaine. Yes, my best friend gets so high that she will tell you anything, including whatever she's doing bad at the moment. Her parents really wish I would move down there and live with them--they have even offered to PAY my dad to let me live there--but I can't leave my dad.
My Mom disappered when I was 13. We still have no idea where she is but since then, its been my dad and I. My dad has different girlfriends every week and leaves me in the house alone. I don't do drugs or party. I hate confrontations and will do anything to avoid them. I don't generally ditch classes or if I ditch part of a class, no one ever says anything, As far as Dad knows, I'm the daughter he's always wanted. One time, he even said: "Rachael, I don't know what I would do without you." Maybe he says that to make me feel guilty so I don't leave. I don't know. But it works.
"No problem. You can bail me out tomorrow. Of course, by the time you leave, it'll be all over school." I sigh. Court gulps and I jump ten feet into the air. She laughs; apparantly, I shreiked. "Scared ya, didn't I?" She waits a moment and takes another bite out of her sandwhich. "No, seriously, Rache--you need to stop freakin' out. It'll blow over by Monday. Or if it doesn't, I'll have something cooked up by then." I groan but don't say anything. Looking on my cell, I see that I have two minutes to find a place to hide before they can spot me.
"I'll talk to you later--or maybe in a few minutes." "Rache--" I hang up before she can finish her thought and go around the side enterence to get into the school. There, I think of my choices on where to hide.
The library is, by no means, a secure hiding spot because that's where all the losers go when they don't want to be found. The other losers don't like me anyway--I seem to provoke harrassment by not even saying anything. Courtney calls it a talent; I call it a death wish.
The gym is out because that's where angry girlfriend's boyfriend will be, almost guarantying that she will be there too. Everyone in the art room scowls at me. The people in the music room yell at me to get out. Its amazing, how, in a school of losers, I don't fit in with any of them.
I don't know how I came to this decison but I decide to leave. Go as far as my gas will take me. I go home, pack, fill up my gas tank and leave.
****Notes: I have no idea about a title so any help there would be appreciated. I made some revisons from my first draft, which was saved on my laptop and transfered to this one. It took me about 1 1/2 to write this but that's because my parents kept interupting my thought process and I haven't written anything in a few months. I based it on something that happend to me recently but that wasn't my intention; all I knew in the beginning was that I wanted someone to yell and some girl to walk away, talking about how she wished her outspoken best friend still lived there. I haven't written any more to this story yet. Any suggestions or comments are welcome.
Points: 1290
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