My friend and I sort of worked on this one together (I wrote and she spit out ideas-ish) so you can review and let me know if you like it and if I should post the rest/continue or not. Thanks :)

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“Being a bad influence is not cool, Mr. Johnson, not at all.”

Mr. Ingersoll; mean principal? Nope. Great principal; the only teacher who’d stick up for me, honestly. Apparently I’m butt ugly and will never have any friends. Oh, and my feet smell like burnt cashews. I was hurt slightly by this, but more confused on how Kenny knows how my feet smell.

“This is the last straw, Mr. Johnson, the last straw!”

“Okay, Mr. Ingersoll.”

“Your mother’s going to hear about this, be sure of that!”

It’s a real pity nobody ever took him serious.

“That’s guarantee!”

“Sure.” Kenny said for what was definitely the fifth time. He knew he was getting off the hook. Besides, catching one of the six guys who’d actually teepee’d my project wasn’t a big accomplishment.

Mr. Ingersoll let me leave a few minutes later. He offered me to skip last period and go sit with the counselor, Mr. Jacobs, but he gives me the creeps. I told Mr. Ingersoll I’d go to class instead.

On the way there I walked by Lisa’s locker, which obnoxiously has a mirror stuck to it so she can see how she looks between classes, and stare at it. There I am, Claire, plain and short. It’s a bit disturbing to look at. How different I looked from all the other girls at school. I considered my shape to be unique. Nola, the only girl at school who respected me, said I looked more like an hourglass. My mom used to say I’m ‘curvy’, and all the other girls at school say I’m fat, and the guys don’t say anything. I kept my hair pretty short, around my neck. It was ugly anyway; a bit grayish-brown. Nola told me I’m pretty pale, too, but she says she wishes she had the same eyes as I do. My eyes are ugly, though. They’re grey-green and everybody thinks I’m wearing mascara all the time, so they think I’m nerd-goth.

Fun.

The rest of the day passed pretty fast. I filled Nola in with what happened and we watched a video about how great geometry is to know, how excited we should be about being in Honors geometry, and how we can use it in our lives (never) and stuff like that.

“Watson!”

We just left class and someone was already trying to start a fight with me? I continued walking through the rapidly crowding hallway; if he wanted to talk to me he’d have to catch me.

“What?” I asked.

“How’s Clete?”

I give this guy my attention; how’d he know Clete, anyway?

“He’s fine, thank you.”

“That’s great – hey, sorry, I’m Eric Rogers by the way. I knew Clete before he left for college, but I never knew he had a sister!”

“Really? That’s great.” I said limply. Why does Eric really think I care?

Nola, on my left, gave Eric a confused stare.

“So – um what’s your name, huh?” he asked.

“Claire.”

“And your friend?”

Nola pointed to herself before answering.

“Nola.” She said shyly.

“Nice to meet you,” Eric said in a slightly flirty voice, “Eric.”

“I heard.”

“What is it?” I asked him.

“Huh?”

“What is it? People really don’t talk to me for any reason.”

“Oh – I just wanted to know if Clete was your brother. I guess he is, then.”

“Okay then.” Eric gave an even cheesier grin and drifted from us in a sea of talkative freshmen.

“Ooh,” Nola said slyly once we reached her locker, “he’s cute. And he wanted to talk to you. Ooh.”

“Yeah right; he’s so ugly, you just like any attention from the opposite sex.”

Nola grinned stupidly, flashing her braces in my face. She reached in her perfectly organized locker with the girliest decorations; pink magnets, pink trim on her small schedule. With all that money her parents had she sure couldn’t spend it wisely.

“I got too much of men.” I muttered, which was true. I did. My brother, Clete (the most hickish name in the name dictionary, by the way) was part of everything athletic and jockish possible. Football quarterback, lacrosse for two years, wrestling team (two year champion), ladies’ man; completely perfect. Naturally, he had the entire team over to our house for parties and such. Being eleven with a bunch of drunk, sexed up seventeen year old guys in the house, half of which were irresistible, was hard. Clete always made sure that nobody put his hands on me, but it wasn’t like they tried. There were enough school whores to go around.

The downside to being his younger sister (aside from ultra-high expectations) was the fact that he was the perfect senior, taking his duty to make freshmen’s lives miserable to heart. He successfully crammed seventeen boys in lockers, twenty six boys were locked in broom closets, fifty-two wet willies, wedgies and other assorted torture methods, and Clete ruined thirteen freshmen’s love lives. He was pretty good at it, too. This was bad news for me, the one left with a bunch of angry juniors. Every junior and even some seniors hated my guts because of Clete’s idiocy, and took it out on me without blinking.

The ringleaders of this group of people who had disdain for the Watson’s were a group of six boys I knew well; Randy, Andrew, Steven, Noah, Kenny and Allen. They were all bigger than me, smarter and cooler than me. They were lucky, too. They had the luck of being a huge combination of same-minded boys with different talents. Randy and Noah were geniuses, Steven was abnormally athletic, Andrew, Noah, Steven and Kenny were flirty, and Allen was a flat-out school bully. They were all relatively good looking (except for Allen), but it’s hard to find them that attractive if they’re setting your homework on fire.

My first malicious encounter with them was on the first day, a week ago, ironically. I’d come to school with a new book bag that cost me fifty dollars and a bunch of new stuff. During a break period in the morning they cornered me and told me to go outside, behind the building.

“You can’t make me; the teachers will see me going with like fifty guys. I’m not a slut or anything.”

“Listen kid,” Kenny said frankly, “these teachers are so used to freshmen whores they won’t do jack shit, okay honey?”

I didn’t take him serious, so I went. He was right. He even deliberately walked right past the teachers lounge to prove it to me. Once we were behind the building Allen yanked my bag off and held his hand out to Noah. Noah handed him a pretty lighter and it wasn’t long till I saw my bag burst in flames.

I probably should’ve been glad they didn’t rape me, but I was pretty pissed.

My mind snapped back to the present day.

“Guys aren’t that bad.” Nola said.

“You haven’t got a brother.”

“No,” Nola said smartly, “I haven’t.”

“My point exactly.”

We walked to the front of the building, Nola dragging her rolling book bag behind her; scoliosis, and a doctor recommended it. I, on the other hand, was forced to carry a heavy bag on my back. My doctor said there was no point in me getting a rolling book bag, so I should stop counting on it.

“Watson!” Steven said excitedly running past us, shoving me in the process. Three feet beside me were empty, telling me it hadn’t been an accident. Randy and Kenny ran behind him, shoving me in the process. Behind them Noah and Andrew slouched past me; Andrew flicked me and Noah nipped my arm. Allen was slugging behind Noah, and he punched me. I would’ve fallen over if Nola weren’t on my other side. She pushed me up right.

I watched them walk away. If they didn’t hate me, if I hadn’t come to hate their guts, I might have had a crush on any one of them. Most girls did. Aside from Allen, who was fat anyway, they were all pretty good looking, especially Steven.

Steven had great looks, like some sort of male model. He was really fit, which was a huge plus. Steven’s hair was dark brown, and so were his totally straight eyebrows. He had the prettiest eyes ever; they were the greatest shade of green in the world, like a rainforest. Steven had a certain alertness about him that was hidden behind his outward player coolness. Whenever I saw him, he was smiling, or smirking or something, but I never saw him frown.

“You get attention from guys.” Nola said, sounding aggravated.

“Bad attention.”

“Yeah, but it’s still there! Guys don’t seem to know my name!”

“Yeah, but I do.”

“I’m not les, and I doubt you are.”

I shrugged.

“You do that. Just remember, you were invited to that kegger that Bradson girl always throws! You’re like freshman number twelve to ever be invited!”

“Yeah, and freshman number five million to ever actually go.”

“It doesn’t matter if they all break the rules and go anyway; you were invited!”

I rolled my eyes while she plowed on, “that Bradson girl is so cool! I wish I could go!”

“She thought I was Goth, she invited me. She’s Goth; she thought I’d be cool with it.”

“Have you decided if you’re going?” Nola whined.

“Um…” I wasn’t really sure, to be honest, “Yeah I’m going. Of course.”

Nola huffed and shuffled the rest of the way to her house. I waved goodbye while she shut the door in my face. She didn’t have the nerve to slam it, but this was the equivalent to that, coming from her.

Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t given the kegger much thought at all. It was supposed to be on Friday; tomorrow. My mom wouldn’t give a rat’s ass as long as I didn’t come home pregnant. She never cared anymore. I could go and make friends. The effect of predetermined drunkenness didn’t faze me much. I’d already tried beer a few times. I hadn’t gotten drunk, so I was pretty sure I’d gotten some sort of immunity.

Sure. There’s nothing wrong with a kegger. I told my mom that night. She said I was fine and told me to not get pregnant. She hinted that she had some morning-after pills upstairs in her medicine cabinet, and that she also “might have seen some condoms in the spice rack behind the door in the washroom. Third row, far left.”

The next morning I put on a cheesy outfit; a black pleated skirt with an orange belt and orange leggings. I put on my brother’s blue sweater with another orange tank under it. This was extraordinarily tacky, but sadly it was something I could throw together without trying. I added a touch of class with the black Uggs my aunt bought me.

“You’re going?”

“I already said I am.”

Nola made an extremely baby face before striding ahead of me. Her bag rolled over every single bump, clanking loudly, which wasn’t unusual. I stared at the sidewalk in front of me, at Nola’s jumping book bag.

She didn’t talk to me the entire day.

I got a ride from the ‘Bradson girl’, Emily. Extremely goth, by the way. Her car was black, her hair was black, her nails were black; everything was black. But she, herself, was probably the whitest girl I’d ever met.

“This is Lucy.” She said slowly, in the car.

“Who?”

“The car. I named him Lucy; it’s short for Lucifer.”

Am I surprised?

She pulled some of the long, shaggy black hair out on her finger, and then put it in her mouth. I was a bit sickened; it looked kinda greasy.

“I like your style.” She said in the same slow voice.

“Thanks.”

“We’re just gonna stop by my place, m’kay? Jay already took the booze, but he told me to bring the cups.” She gave a slow laugh. We stopped in front of her house. There were no cars in the driveway, which affirmed my idea that her parents were probably out of town.

“I’ll help.” I said in a forced kind voice. She popped the trunk, and I stood at the doorway while she brought me packs of red plastic cups. Lucy’s trunk was very dark, probably because it, too, was black. After about fifteen minutes we were off to Kilner Hill.

It was called Kilner Hill because Martin Kilner died there. He was murdered by his dad, who was high on PCP. His mom killed himself there a few days later. His dad’s died in prison.

When I got there Emily didn’t ask me to do anything. There were already a lot of people there, anyway. They didn’t wait for her, or the cups. People had already popped the keg open, and were cupping their hands.

I saw a lot of familiar faces, but luckily I saw people I didn’t know from school. They definitely went to other schools. A lot of hot guys, chatty girls, and girls who seemed to be like me; out of place.

One in particular.

“Are you a freshman?” she asked immediately. I was a bit astonished that she spotted me so quickly.

I didn’t answer.

“I mean – I’m just sayin’, cause you look super young.”

I hoped my face didn’t give me away.

“How’d you get here? Em’s a senior, isn’t she?”

I nodded reflexively. “I – she invited me. Yeah, I’m a freshman.”

She nodded, pleased. “Name’s Andrea. I’m a senior at Hallendale. You might know my little brother, Eric, he’s a sophomore.”

“Yeah,” I said stupidly, “I know him.”

If Andrea and Eric were related, he didn’t get the best of the deal. Andrea was very pretty, glamorous in an easygoing way. Eric was pimply and resembled a horse.

Andrea and I got some beer and started to do rounds around the clearing. It wasn’t long till the only sound I heard was the hum of chatter and the all-to-common high pitched squeal from a girl who was being felt up.

“I hate getting super drunk.” Andrea told me.

“Why?”

“I’m a control freak; I hate the lack of control, y’know?”

I nodded. Of course, I had no clue how it felt to be drunk.

“What about you?”

“Me? Oh, I, um, y’know, I just like the, uh, feeling, y’know?”

Tough-guy me.

She smiled like a mentor, and I noticed I still had a full cup of booze. I was contradicting myself without even knowing it.

I chugged it all in one gulp. And had the nerve to make a beeline for the next keg in sight to validate my mindless statement. Two cups turned to three and halfway through the forth cup I began to feel extraordinarily sick.

“You okay?” I heard from far off.

“Fine…”

Andrea’s hand found my cheek.

“Wanna go home, kid?”

Kid? I just drank half a fucking gallon of Budweiser, and you’re calling me a kid?

“Well, well, well, of all the parties to find Watson, it’s a big-kid party!”

Andrea’s giggle echoed in my ears, and a sturdy hand gripped my shoulder.

“This is the kind of thing I’d dream about, but I always thought Watson was smarter than that!”

It was Kenny.

“Ha! She’s drunk off her ass!”

Allen, too?

“Really drunk.”

They brought Noah.

The snickers I heard from nearby told me it was the whole group.

“Guys, go easy on her, okay?” Andrea said. Had she been plotting against me the entire time?

“Whatever.” The hand on my shoulder led me away from the chatter and noise. I couldn’t see very clearly in front of me. I felt the grass around my feet getting higher, and I heard their feet trudging louder each step. I knew Andrea was still with me, but it offered me little comfort. As far as I cared, she was just as bad as the rest of them, possibly worse.

Allen pushed me onto the back of a car. My hands hit the trunk pretty hard, and before I could remember leaning on it for five seconds, my body recoiled and I jumped back.

Then I threw up.

“Gross, man!”

Steven’s voice was in my ears, jeering. He yanked me up and threw me back on the car.

“C’mon guys,” Andrea said, giggling slightly, “don’t kill ‘er.” Then she laughed.

“Hey, Andy,” Randy said brightly, “take off your belt.”

I heard Andrew comply, and my eyes even cleared up enough from the automatic tears that came from throwing up that I could see him taking off his belt.

“Now,” Allen said excitedly, “we won’t do anything really serious.”

I heard him breathing hard and Steven’s fingers on my back.

“Your brother did this to us when we were freshman. We can’t do it to him now, but your ass happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

“What?”

Then he hit me. I don’t really know if I shouted or gasped or anything because my ears were buzzing, but I did here them laughing. Even Andrea. Allen hit me four more times before he handed it to whoever went next. All in all they hit me about twenty five times, but I only know that because I heard it and the sound replayed constantly in my mind; later I just counted what I remembered hearing.

Who hadn’t gone?

Noah’s hand thumped my back in a big brother way.

“I’ll kick her ass later.” He said lazily. I could smell smoke.

“C’mon, Noah, c’mon, she’s hot now!” Randy hissed. His hand ran over my back in a quick motion. He stopped his hand on my butt and started (what I would legally call) molesting me. I wanted to be sad, but I wasn’t. I was just a bit scared. I wasn’t really afraid of one of them trying to bang me, because I wasn’t really afraid of the thought, but I just didn’t like the idea of a gang rape.

My eyes were teary, so I could barely see the grin on Randy’s face. My arms, wobbly already, fell from under me, so I fell onto the trunk with my ass in the air. I felt stupid. One of the guys yanked me off the car and threw me on the ground.

And oh hell, my butt hurt.

Andrea giggled a bit more, and I felt someone’s foot tap my side.

“Good night, honey.” Randy said sweetly.

Easy for him to say; His ass was just fine at the moment. They rustled past me, chuckling. I could go home and assure my mom that I wasn’t pregnant. I wouldn’t need the morning after pill, either. That was especially good, because she went through those.

I could tell I was alone, as it was very quiet on the ground. The tire next to me smelt like burnt rubber, which was gross.

And my butt still hurt.

I thought about what Nola would do if she’d been there. Call her overprotective mom, and helped me up. Clete would’ve jerked me off the ground, told me to toughen up, and gotten on with life. My mom wouldn’t do anything. I had a pretty good idea on what all of them would’ve done. But I only know for sure what one person would’ve done.

Andrew picked me up and held me there for a few seconds to make sure I wouldn’t tip right back over.

“Thanks.” I mumbled.

He coughed and then nodded. My eyes had cleared up; my senses were coming back to me, slowly all the same.

“No problem.” He said quietly.

Andrew grinned, in a friendly way.

“You okay?”

I nodded, but then shook my head. I don’t know why, either.

“You want a ride home?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket. With my arm around his neck, I ambled beside him. For the first time in a long time I felt sure that I wouldn’t need to get back up, because I wouldn’t fall down.

“Your butt still hurts?” he asked.

“Like a bitch.”

He chuckled. We reached his car and he threw me in the passenger seat, and closed the door. I heard him come in on the other side; my eyes were closed. I was tired.

“Want something to eat?” he asked in the same kind voice.

Was he asking me out? When I had a hangover? Was he that desperate?

“I’m hungry.”

“No thanks.” I said firmly.

“Sure.”

He still went to the nearest McDonalds, though. He got a lot of food, especially for a guy as fit as Andrew. I guess I always thought he’d be a really big health freak, considering how hot he was.

Or how hot he was at the moment.

Andrew and I sat in the parking lot for half an hour while he ate. He told me I should get a clear head before I walked into my house and my mom saw me. I didn’t think it would make a difference, but after fifteen minutes with the windows down I felt better. I could see Andrew more clearly.

Andrew and I never really talked much. He was one of the guys who I didn’t know very well. Now that I could see him I could tell a lot about him. He was probably a bit metro; I could tell by his extremely perfect face. Andrew had very accentuated pretty boy looks; light brown hair, light brown eyes, and a big mouth. But he did have a slight delicateness about him. He was cute, though, and at the moment I was a bit horny.

I waited for him to finish eating.

“Andrew?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve slept with someone before, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna have sex?”

He snorted and gave me an apathetic grin.

“I wasn’t really thinking about that, but if you want to I just might.”

“You’re serious?”

“Sure, why not?” This was probably the most enthusiastic I’d ever seen him. “You wanna go to my place, or is your mom okay with it, or what?”

“I dunno. I’ve never had sex; I never even kissed a guy.”

Andrew laughed even harder when I said that.

“Sorry,” he said shakily, “I thought you were a bit more experienced.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

Andrew, Mr. Caring.

“Am I ugly or something? It’s cause I’m fat?”

“You’re not fat.” He said frankly, “I just don’t want blood all over my car or anything. I’m tired, you’re horny, nah. I’m too damn tired to try and clean up a mess. I thought you were a bit more… used. No mess.”

I think I started huffing.