Hit and Run

First the Worst

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The door swung open with a thud. She stood there by the entrance, illuminated by the streaming sun cascading down her face. Leisurely, she makes her way down the corridor, hips swaying, hair swinging from side to side.

The crowd quickly disperses, leaving a clear path for her designer stilettos. She smirks at the numerous faces watching enviously, wolf whistles following her derriere. Occasionally she’ll raise a willowy, sun kissed arm in a wave to those worthy of her attention.

She finally reaches her destination; here she stands surrounded by an array of almost as beautiful faces. Conversation begins with questions about her vacation.

Where did she go?

‘Hawaii, of course.’

Did she have a good time?

‘Oh it was gorgeous.’ Lazy afternoons spent bathing under the blistering sun, martinis by the pool and French kisses with an endless stream of Adonis’. They laugh melodically, each in tune with the other. Soon laughter turns to flirtation when they are joined by the most desirable guys.

Within the group she outshines them all. Beautiful isn’t she?

Now zoom to your left, see that girl wrestling with her locker, in crumpled jeans and a white top now grey from wear…

Yep that’s me.

Disappointed? Yeah, so was my mother.

With a sigh of frustration, I pounded my fist on my locker which was determined not to open.

First day of school, and already I was regretting coming in. The testosterone level of the male population seemed to have doubled over the summer; I could see one senior giving a wedgie to an acne ridden freshman. Another was in the process of procreation with some girl that he probably didn’t even know the name of.

Disgusted, I turned away and headed to homeroom, pushing my way through the students loitering in the hall.

I managed to make it into the classroom just in time, receiving a glare from Mrs. Havisham when the bell rang two seconds later. Ducking my head, I took my usual seat near the back of the class, ready to start another boring year, the only difference and saving grace being that this would be my last – whoever said that your teenage years were your best was obviously suffering from selective amnesia.

“I’m glad to see so many of you taking this year seriously.” Mrs. Havisham’s eyes rested briefly on mine before moving on to the other students who had dared to walk in after the bell had rung.

Mrs. Havisham got up from her chair, stalked around her desk and stood in front of the board, shoulders straight, hands clasped behind her back.

“There will be no misdemeanors this year. I know most of you like to have…” Mrs. Havisham lifted her arms and made air quotes, “a little fun.” her eyes critically inspected each student, all sat slouched in their chairs. “But if you expect to graduate, you’re going to have to work very hard. While it is disappointing that there are no budding Harvard or Stanford potentials…there are many good community colleges which will welcome you into their fold.”

As motivational speeches go, Mrs. Havisham’s left a lot to be desired. I think the majority of the class felt the sting of her words, and judging by the scowls adorning their faces, were more than a tad insulted. I, like my fellow students, shared the same sentiment, and while I decided not to repeat some of the barely concealed whispers of ‘bitch,’ under my breath, I mentally noted what had been said and put it away for future reference.

Now you may want to hear a word for word account of what happened in class, some scintillating information that’ll blow your mind; but all I can really tell you is that they really let the grass grow over the summer. As beautiful as Mrs. Havisham’s luminous yellow sweater with purple stripes was, I have to say that I was far more interested in saving my eyes and enjoying the beauty of our school field through the window.

Homeroom passed by in a blur and this set the tone for the rest of the morning, and before long I found myself in the cafeteria. Lunch in hand; I sat myself down at the table in a little corner at the furthest end of the room. Enviously I glanced at the girl at the edge of my peripheral vision, tucking into what I hoped was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I dubiously looked down at the brown glob at the centre of my plate. Mmm yummy. Cafeteria food, second on my list of ‘things I won’t miss once I graduate’, one place behind, waking up to go to school.

I took a sip of my drink, thinking about what I would do once I got home. As the first day of a new academic year, I had so far been fortunate in the lack of homework, but it seemed to have been in exchange for lectures on the importance of this year – some more useful than others.

“Hi,” the exuberant salutation brought me out of my reverie. Frowning, I stared at the face in front of me. Peroxide blond hair, short denim skirt and tank top.

She smiled broadly whilst twirling a strand of hair. “We’re having a carwash this weekend to help the cheerleaders and we’d really love it if you could come.”

The words cheerleader and weekend in the same sentence had my head spinning. School days were spent avoiding people, especially cheerleaders, and here was one asking me to join them this weekend.

“It’s like totally unfair, because how do they expect us to show our school spirit if we’re wearing the same uniforms we did two years ago?”

Silent, I awaited the customary few seconds for the complimentary ‘gotcha’ which would no doubt follow such a statement, but she remained quiet. When I realized she really wasn’t joking, I mentally racked my brain for a suitable comment.

“Errr…I…errr…” At my failure to string together a few syllables she gave me a mega watt smile, showing off those perfect, pearly whites.

“Because it’s like Tracy said, a team is only as good as its support system, and happy cheerleaders’ means happy football players and we all know happy football players equal a winning team…” Every other word was accentuated with a hand gesture, face etched with passion and determination. Her little tirade may have been more impressive if you didn’t take into consideration the football team’s game record. Last season they had managed to win one whole game, and that had only been the result of a no show by the away team – I heard through the grape vine that was one hell of a party.

“…and this season we’ve got the most gorgeous styles, it’ll compliment all the girls’ figures, so like everyone will be equal. It’s so like destiny, I mean not only will we be up to date on the fashion, but it’ll just go to show how much we know about current affairs…”

I could feel a bubble of laughter lodged in my chest waiting to burst out, but I furiously held on tight in fear of reprisal. I bet you’re thinking what a coward, and you would be right, which was why I was nodding my head in agreement. Of course it made perfect sense.

The cheerleader sent me another brilliant smile, while waving hello to a boy. I wondered how much longer she planned on standing there; as unappetizing as lunch looked I was feeling quite hungry.

“So are you going to come and support our cause?” She asked nobly.

The only cause I thought needed support were the lobotomies the cheerleading team so desperately needed.

But firmly pushing back my thoughts, I offered the blond an animated nod instead and a smile almost as large as hers.

“That’s great!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands together enthusiastically.

“You know, because this is really important, it’ll really help school spirit and motivate everyone. But it would have been so much easier if the principal had just given us the money in the first place. I mean it’s only a thousand bucks, what exactly are they going to do with it?”

Only a thousand bucks!

I could think of one hundred and one things to do with one thousand dollars, and I assure you, every single one was better than buying some cheerleader’s outfit.

Bemused, I looked up at the blond who had a frown on her face, as she contemplated her previous question. God, what a simpleton.

As she snapped out of her little trance, she turned to me with another one of her Hollywood smiles.

“Thanks a lot Jolene!”

I gave a furious wave as she sauntered away; not even giving a damn that she’d got my name wrong. I was just glad to see the back of her, and judging by the stares and catcalls she was receiving, I wasn’t the only one.

Shaking my head soberly, I returned to the complex task at hand; finishing my lunch.

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A/N:

Are you reading this story and thinking, ‘hmm, I’ve read this before’? Well that’s because this was posted several months ago but was taken down. I’ve given it a big revamp and have rewritten my previous chapters.

I have about 13 chapters written up at the moment, which I should be putting up on a weekly basis while I write the remaining chapters.

Chapter length will get longer so don’t fret. Also, I am a Brit trying to write a story based in America, so if there are any mistakes I apologize and please let me know.

Reviews are appreciated, especially constructive criticism on how you feel I can improve.

LeilaX