Beware the stench of a fully-blown cliché romance with a wholly sarcastic twist… or two.

-Because It's Pink-
by Mackenzie

CHAPTER ONE: The Dumping Style

School. School started in ten minutes and guess where I was…surrounded by Dalebrook High’s best athletes and ‘hottest’ girls, and the group’s general hangers on, inside a doughnut shop. The cinnamon scent filled the air, mingling with coffee beans and other sweeter smells.

Duke Macintosh, my best friend and Dalebrook’s most watched senior, had his arm around me and the image would have looked suspicious if I was pawing at his chest and gazing dreamily into his eyes. Thank goodness I wasn’t because that would be as bad as falling for my twin brother Paul, which would be incest and all-around gross since he’s conveniently gay.

No, the one who was staring at Duke that way was sitting opposite us. Her name is Kamryn Donovic and she just happens to be my older sister. Too bad she wasn’t smart enough to pass her exams; I wouldn’t have had to deal with her this year. But, sadly her teachers decided she’d repeat her senior year… with me, and Duke, and everybody else who mattered.

There was a moderately endowed, semi-pretty girl either side of her and they would be the bitches-in-crime. Isabell was a petite redhead with venomous green eyes tainted with tiny brown flecks. Elizabeth had black hair that curled to her waist with almost black eyes and a sallow skin complexion. Neither girl was very bright, nor was my sister so it worked out (three idiots makes a person – that’s my theory and I’m sticking to it), but they all had the breasts equal to the size of Mount Everest, so it didn’t matter. Well, not to the guys in any case.

“Duke.” I pinched his ear and pulled it down to hiss, “Shouldn’t we be at school?”

“Since when did you care?” he replied lazily, his eyes flickering to the blonde girl serving at the register. How typical.

“Umm,” I thought quickly. “Well normally I don’t care, but since my sister is practically salivating all over her untouched low fat, coffee-based drink, it’s getting kinda awkward. Like, really awkward.” Another thought occurred to me and I added quickly, “Oh, and we have French first.”

Duke groaned. “We always have French first,” he complained. Not a fan, eh?

Kamryn had now progressed to near hyperventilation and her two cronies were slumping against each other, staring wistfully at Duke. You’d think it’s pathetic that she goes for men younger than her. I shifted uncomfortably and tugged at the ratty T-shirt I’d thrown on this morning and somehow found myself remembering reluctantly the day that I met Duke. Oh that fateful, life changing day.

XXX

I was minding my own business and making a really horrific sandcastle when a scuffing sound met my ears and sand flew into my face, my eyes, my nose and my mouth. When all I did was shake the icky particles off and look back down again, sand flew into my face and all over my clothes.

Originally, I’d come to the conclusion that the sand flew itself at me. Since it kept coming back though… well, the idea needed rethinking. I looked up and stared into a pair of dark gray (really angry) eyes. He had licorice colored hair and (even at this age) a face so perfectly sculpted that human hands could never emulate. The boy was wearing a pair of denim shorts and chili-red T-shirt. His hands were sandy and pink where the rough material had chaffed at his skin. He was staring at me with a mixture of shock and fury.

“Chuck sand at me one more time and I’ll punch you,” I supplied calmly, my hands still working the sand with all the deft expertise a three-year-old could muster.

Once more, sand flew at me, covering my entire body, dripping from my hair and running down my face in the rivulets that the missing tears should have been doing.

I shook my head to get most of the painfulness away. It didn’t work. Standing up slowly, I pulled the long sleeves of my plaid shirt back and before he knew what had hit him, my fist collided solidly with the side of his jaw.

A hand was raised to the bruising skin, rubbing it almost thoughtfully. He raised considering eyes to mine and looked at me, hard.

I gave him a look that meant ‘you-asked-for-it-and-don’t-even-pretend-like-you-didn’t’ and said as much to him.

“Name’s Duke,” my tormentor said after a moment, taking me by surprise.

“Ainsley,” I replied, still slightly startled.

“Nice,” Duke nodded, like he thought he had to approve it. Or what he thought of it was my business, which is wasn’t. Why should I care what he thinks? He just threw sand at me three times.

“You want me to take you to the teacher?” I offered, suddenly feeling a little remorseful for the punch, but only a little.

“Nah, I know the way,” he replied, looking at the tall figure with frizzy red hair that was about fifty feet away with her back turned. I looked at the lady too.

“I’ll come anyway,” I said, stubborn to the last. I raised a finger to my eye, lightly touching the raw skin and sucked in breath from the brief flash of pain.

XXX

A realization hit me and I shrugged indifferently, replacing my awkwardness with an air of indifference. “Fine, I shall hold it to you when I fail my senior year and college scholarships aren’t an option.” I flicked my hand carelessly to accent my attitude of dramatic negligence. “Where will you be then… far, far away playing basketball or soccer for some big shot college in LA?”

“I personally think that basketball is more likely. Scouts are out this year and they’re hungry, Anus,” Grant slipped in. He was a tall (of course he was tall; they’re all basketballers… and guys) dark-skinned, dark-haired boy with plain but attractive features. Somehow his simplicity was the height of his aesthetical allure.

I took a swing at him and missed appropriately, although not by too much.

Confused by the nickname? Yeah, I think it’s fetching too, the referral to someone’s bum hole.

Duke sighed. “Alright, Ainsley, but only because you want me to.” He tweaked my nose affectionately and I slapped his hand away. Ugh, the day I become feminine, or take any of that shit sitting down will be the day he walks on Jupiter – and since it’s a gas giant, I sincerely doubt that will ever happen. And besides, he made it sound like he was agreeing to go out with me, or something like it. Like that would ever happen.

“Duke!” I said, indignation lining my voice. “Not in front of the kids!” I nodded significantly at the various chunk of people around us. Jocks and divas alike.

He sighed again and nodded at Jamie, a blonde, blue-eyed soccer star and one of our best friends. “Okay, man, I’m outta here.” Jamie acknowledged him and Duke and I rose from the chair as one, his arm still around my shoulders.

I picked at the arm like it was a dead fish, then dropped it. The arm slithered away and I was finally free.

“Never again,” I muttered to myself.

“Oh, you know it’s going to happen again,” Duke whispered in my ear, keeping step me.

“Get off!”

“Fine.” He obliged and removed his face from my shoulder space. “You want a ride?”

“Who’s gonna take my car? I’m not leaving it here.”

“Touchy, touchy. Whose idea was it to bring the grouch?” Jamie prodded, looking pointedly at Duke.

“I’ll take it,” Vince suggested, shoving his head in between Duke and me. He looked at my body hungrily and I, in turn, looked first at his face, letting my eyes trail quickly down his lanky basketball body to his feet and back up to his semi-good looking face, the horror etched into my features as obvious as a flashing billboard. It said, “Boy, you are far too stupid to actually believe I’d let you inside my precious Mini, let alone drive it.”

Laughter came from the other side of Vince and I assumed that Duke had seen my reaction. “Fine, you win, see you there,” Duke said, still practically bubbling.

I nodded in his direction and climbed into the red Mini Cooper. It was my one treasured possession, the thing that my mother gave me (figuratively, as in, she gave me the money for it) before she went and drove into a pole four years ago. I shook my head to get rid of the sad thoughts.

Key in the ignition, I kicked the accelerator. The car shot forward and music filled the air. It wasn’t magic, or remotely interesting. I drove for a grand total of five minutes before the school’s parking lot came into view.

It was all very typical; everyone was gathered around Duke’s car (a black Mercedes – of course) talking. School had already started and I shrugged my bag over one shoulder, marching towards Duke like I had a purpose to be marching for – which wasn’t really the case.

“School. Boys. Remember?” I asked, jerking my head in the direction of the double doors that opened onto the white-walled hallways and classrooms filled with teenagers groaning at the writing on the board out the front that was Dalebrook High.

“Calm, Anus, calm,” Jamie said, his palms facing me in a pushing away position as he moved them in circles slowly.

I raised one eyebrow and turned on my heel towards the massive building that housed our lockers among other things. Fighting back is old. Then I changed my mind and slapped Jamie on the cheek, taking my leave very quickly to avoid the possibility of Jamie’s revenge.

“Hey!” Duke called. “Wait up!”

“Why?” I shot back, not even bothering to turn around. Despite the amount of (strictly platonic) love I have for Darling Duke, I am sick to death of being late for class. Sure his majestic charm may get him out of trouble – and most of his, dare I say it, hawt friends – it completely excluded me and I had a mounting pile of afternoon detentions as well as a collection of hate stares because I even had the audacity to hang with him. Of course he was only my best friend.

I paced inconspicuously towards the doors, pushing one open, and tried to pass the windowed room on the right, the one containing the school’s secretary and other annoying adults of the faculty, without being seen. No such luck.

“Miss Donovic!”

The guttural shout came from an old woman we all called Horse. There is no ‘the’ involved with that nickname. She was old and had a long thin neck with a mane of scraggly auburn-gray hair and bespectacled drained green eyes that were actually closer to gray than anything else.

I slumped to a stop in the middle of the hall and turned my head slowly to look at her. I quirked my eyebrow in ‘Yes?’ fashion.

“Do you have a hall pass?” she inquired hoarsely, pushing her circular glasses higher on the bridge her nose with her forefinger and giving the impression of an owl on a pogo stick.

“Uh… no, not really…” I replied looking away distractedly. I tugged at a stray lock of hair, fiddling absently with the blonde strands.

“She’s with me,” a new voice cut in.

I whipped my head around to stare into the faces of Duke & Co. even though the speaker was none other than the infamous Seth Andrews, basketball shooting star.

“Detention to all of you,” Horse said loudly, aware that she was loosing control of the situation. “This afternoon for an hour,” she added, scribbling on a piece of paper. Gnarled hands thrust the fistful of notes across the desk. I reached out reluctantly and plucked the sheets from her grip.

“Go on, the lot of you!” the secretary barked.

We all scurried past, her glares burning holes in the back of our heads. I was sure that I, in particular, had larger holes than everyone else.

“Idiot!” I hissed at the slightly taller boy beside me. (Duke)

“Imbecile!” he replied, thoroughly enjoying all the attention.

I was riffling through the papers in my hand to discover detention slips to every kid in the group but for – Who would have guessed it? – Duke.

“Oh, big word little boy,” I shot back. “Thanks,” I whispered to Seth, who flipped a hand in response.

“No problem,” he said, pulling off a half-smile very well.

It’s not fair that Duke always gets away with everything, no matter what, and everyone, teachers and students, always seem to be angry with me. Frustration and/or jealously, you pick. They should just admit it and start up a Duke Macintosh Fan Club. They could call themselves the DMFC – how original.

Duke didn’t say anything, the other guys were having a conversation about basketball but tuning in would be pointless; it had been going for the last five minutes and I wouldn’t know what to say. Not that I don’t like basketball, it is my passion and something that both Duke and I share. Fortunately, my locker could be seen about thirteen feet away.

Forty seconds later, I spun the dial and entered the combination, as you do, grabbing the appropriate books and slinging my unnecessary belongings on to the shelf.

“On hiver !” I said to the boys. “Allez vite ! Nous avons le class de français.”

“Man,” the hazel-eyed Vincent said, “I hate it when you speak French.”

“Me too,” added Ben – a six foot six lanky African-American with large brown eyes.

They’ve all got simple, one-track minds that revolve around, yep, you guessed it – basketball. What else would it be? Oh, right, my sister and the bunch of try-hard bimbos that follow her around all day.

“At least she actually can speak French,” Jamie put in, quick to my (uncalled for) defense. “Where would your homework be without her?”

I flushed pink and purple at that (minus the purple). “Ferme-la !” I said to Jamie.

“Je te comprends pas,” he replied slowly.

“You and the rest of the world.” I looked at Duke.

“Yes,” he agreed. “And now would be the time to move,” he said, giving me a slightly painful shove in the direction of our classroom. I shoved him back just to prove a point.

“Oh, so you want to go to French now?” I raised my eyebrows in annoying way.

Duke reached out, using his four and a half extra inches to my advantage, and grabbed the top of my head, digging his knuckles into my head painfully.

“Ow, ow! Quit it!” He let go. “What was that for?” I asked, but I wasn’t expecting an answer.

Room B13 came into view a few minutes later and Madame Rosignal –she has the same name as the French ski brand… – turned icy glares on our group as we entered via the door.

“’Scuse us, Madame. I have our late passes somewhere…” I patted at my pockets but failed to produce the oh-so-recently attained slips.

A rustling of paper made itself known to me. Duke produced the missing tickets my hands stopped mid-pat. “Oh, right.”

“To your seats, quickly,” Madame Rosignal replied, still icy and still slightly mad.

“Je suis en retarde,” Jamie whispered to me. The try-hard. “How ‘bout we go out back and become even later.”

“Tu es très en retarde,” I replied. “Talk again and my fist in your face will be the least of your worries.”

Jamie shrugged nonchalantly and took his seat behind Duke, who was conveniently on my right. The rest of the boys arranged themselves around us, the majority settling their forearms on their desks, heads on top of that. Their books lay ignored somewhere out of sight.

Madame Rosignal banged on about ‘le passé composé’ (the past tense) and the class slept on.

I half-listened because French is just about the only thing I get. Some people say the English language is the hardest language to learn – which could be true when you take into consideration the amount of allowances people make for certain words and their double/triple/quadruple meanings, or more – but I think that when a language has four different forms of the word ‘the’, something like four types of verbs which change every time you use a different pronoun and have six different tenses… I could go on all day about the technicalities of the French language but I think I’ll stop now before this paragraph gets too long.

No, there was no real action happening in French class, or for that matter, the rest of the morning. Lunch was normally where the fireworks began.

Dalebrook is situated at the top of a hill, like your pointy type that tiny tots draw in fluro yellow crayons, the first ever building right at the peak – if you could call it a peak – dating back to however long ago, the rest of the buildings spill out from that in some sort of insane spiral pattern. The school’s only oval, along with the two outdoor basketball courts, is in front of the entrance building where you encounter Horse (Her real name is Geraldine Buldimer. I personally think ‘Horse’ is rather fetching in comparison).

The cafeteria is on the right hand side of the entrance building, facing the oval where a large patch of grass; okay it’s your basic yard with some trees and the typical twittering birds, whatever you want to call the garden-y area beside the oval and in front of the cafeteria. There are dark green picnic benches so you can either eat inside or outside. We pretty much always eat outside because, unless it’s raining, I’d rather not share the same hundred by hundred feet of space with my sister. I’m sure there’re probably more reasons than that, but I can’t think of any.

So, as I was wrenching my locker open in order to retrieve some lunch-type existence, surrounded by Duke’s jock-boys and type one sluts, there was an earsplitting yell that echoed down the hallway.

“AINSLEY!”

The shout came from a short, black-haired girl with blue eyes and a loud laugh.

Reluctantly, I pulled my head out of the depths of my locker. Searching for lunch money can be so alluring sometimes, if not vital. The shouter had an almost-perfectly rounded face with little freckles crossing the bridge of her nose. The fact that her looks made such a regal and commanding girl look so incredibly innocent was such a contradiction of the reality before me.

Danny (Danielle Morrison) is my alternative best friend (as opposed to the pre-established Duke) who I met at the beginning of High School in a funny aura of falling books and forgotten locker combinations. She was a country girl who transferred here in a flurry of inky black hair and bright blue eyes because of her daddy’s business hitting the big time.

The busty girl, following in her majestic path, swung her hips in an exaggerated manner and twisted a lock of straight honey-colored hair between her fingers, her large brown eyes clear and vacant as her presence drew the eyes of boys from freshman year to senior.

Cassie Angonovich, whose name literally means “she who entangles men”, does just that. She is the school slut. Not slut of the senior year, upper years or any other way you can think to divide Dalebrook, she is the slut. But I’m not bad-mouthing her. I respect her decisions because it’s what she’s always been… done… whatever.

Even before High School she was intoxicating to boy-kind. Ever since grade school, when she discovered bras, because they were actually necessary for her. And that doesn’t mean she’s a bad person, but it just brings her score to higher than Duke’s, even – although not by a lot. In fact, I think they might have history together, he’s never told me. I don’t think he will, either. But I don’t think anybody could beat Kamryn.

“Hey, hey!” Danny burst out, sliding in beside me and slinging an arm around my hips to giving me a one-sided hug. “What’s cooking?” Her bluebell eyes studied me closely.

“Hey,” I said half-heartedly, diving headfirst back into my locker.

After several crash sounds and loud bang Danny ventured close enough to peer anxiously at the back of my head. “What are you doing in there?” she asked. I could almost picture her holding a handkerchief aver her mouth and nose as she looked on.

“Searching for lunch money,” was my muffled reply.

Another five minutes passed, during which there were several groans of no food consumption-induced stomach cramps coming from a Duke-Jamie-wards direction, Danny tapped me on the shoulder.

It took me a few minutes to dislodge a chunk of hair from one of the screws holding the shelf in place. A feat I accented with a second bang – my head hitting said shelf.

“Yeah?”

“Come on,” Danny said, exasperated. She yanked me back, slammed the locker shut and pulled me down the hall, our minions (Duke, Cassie, Jamie, etc) following in her wake. “I’ll pay.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” I extricated my arm from her superchick strength and walked the rest of the way to the cafeteria in contented silence. Danny and Cassie always sit with us on a Fridays.

As I dragged my fork through the half-eaten spaghetti I was hunching protectively over (my favorite food which Duke and Jamie like to play tricks on me with) and the guys were downing their fourth burger (maybe exaggerating, but that’s how they eat) and Duke was off getting number five (still exaggerating here), a cool breeze laced with prostitute perfume swept past my back.

Since my head was bent, I looked around and saw (oh God) the shiny pink stilettos of Mandy Robertson. (I was kidding about the ‘oh God’ bit.) As if my sister hadn’t already ruined my day by actually waking up, some wannabe clone of hers had to come stamp her French-pedicured foot into my already muddy list of experiences.

“I was just wondering,” she said in her ridiculously shrill voice, “where my dear Dukey-poo was.”

Mandy stood there in her red and black pleated miniskirt and dreadfully tight white shirt, hands on her hips, expectantly tapping her shiny pink stilettos on the hard-packed dirt. In case anyone was wondering, Mandy is Duke’s current girlfriend. I’m not sure how long it’s gonna last ‘cause the longest was two months.

I eyed them with apprehension and said “I dunno,” I said for, like, the second time that day, only this time I was addressing the pasta.

A crash on my right was Duke’s tray slamming on the picnic table as he sat down and pulled his Coke Zero towards him.

I exchanged an evil look with Danny, who grinned in anticipation of the fireworks.

“Hi my ‘dear Dukey-poo’!” I screeched before Mandy had the chance to say anything, throwing my arms around him and hugging fiercely. I screwed up my eyes and squinted at Mandy, who looked appallingly pissed off at this.

She looked away, noticing that a couple of freshman had stopped to enjoy the show, and tried to assume an air of dignified nonchalance. She failed miserably.

Duke smirked fondly as I peered up at him to check for signs of life.

I let go and spun around on the seat, crossing my legs like we did in grade school, and looked at her a tad sheepishly.

“I think I found him,” I remarked dryly to Mandy.

That was evidently the last straw.

“Now see here!” she bellowed, her voice, if at all possible, rising a few notes higher as she pointed a pink nailed finger at me preposterously.

The guys, noticing that something other than their burgers was happening, hastily cleared off, their clingers following in much the same fashion.

Mandy ignored the mass exit of extras. “I will not have that! He’s my boy friend. Not yours, you stupid slut. I don’t care who you think you are-”

Duke chose then to but in. “She’s my best friend,” he stated simply. He folded his hands and placed them calmly on his lap.

“No, she’s a stupid whore.”

I silently raised my eyebrows at Danny across from me. Never, I repeat NEVER tell Duke he’s wrong. I made that mistake once and I was only half incinerated because Duke, being the slightly spoiled brat (very rich guy meaning very spoilt) that he was, decided that that was the time to get pissed off. Just like he did this time.

“Don’t you correct me,” he muttered darkly.

At this point, Mandy’s mouth hung open mid evil utterance. She shut her mouth quick smart and tried to look repentant. It wasn’t very convincing.

“Now,” Duke continued, getting into the rhythm of things seeing as break-ups were his second most practiced sport. “I never liked you, so…” He waved his hands in front of the air like they were going to give him inspiration. “How about we end this thing once and for all? After all, you’re only dating me because I’m one of the hottest guys in our grade and you’re into power and all of that stereotypical shit.”

Mandy’s mouth fell open again and she closed it quickly before starting to beg. “Duke, please,” she simpered, her shrill voice giving me a migraine. She clasped her hands together, wringing them distractedly, “It’s only a one-time thing. It’ll never happen again. You know she’s my friend.” She tried to get her arm around my shoulders but I shook it off.

“No, it wasn’t. I’ve heard about how you are behind her back and what you say,” he jerked his head in my direction and I actually remembered I existed. Yeah, I’d forgotten. Only, don’t tell anyone, please? “You know she is a girl… and girls do use the women’s toilets. This means she can hear you bitching about her.”

“What? NO!” Mandy screamed.

I chose to enter the conversation at that point, since the girl before me (us, actually) had started wailing and my migraine felt like somebody had shoved a blunt, 18pt knitting needle through the side of my head. I’m pretty sure that there was also a tick throbbing in the place where my left temple usually lived.

“Mandy, it’s over, he dumped you, you’re free to leave now,” I said, turning back around to my spaghetti.

“It’s only because he’s secretly sleeping with you that he actually dumped me,” she snarled, running off in the direction of the nearest bathroom because her tears might’ve messed up her mascara. Never mind the fact that she had on waterproof.

I turned to Duke, noticing at that point that his arm was around my waist and there was a limited amount of space between me and the end of the bench. I didn’t bother to do anything about it; it didn’t feel lecherous, after all.

“Am I secretly sleeping with you?” I asked, mock-curiously, peering up at him in what I hoped was bunny rabbit level of cuteness.

“Aww… Ain’t that the cutest?” Danny remarked to Cassie. Cassie smirked, as she refused to laugh openly.

“I think so, it certainly seems that way,” he replied slyly, ignoring Danny.

I glanced over his shoulder at the freshies and flipped a hand at them. “Shoo!” I commanded, looking at Duke once they scampered off to their respective eating tables. I pulled backwards out of his hold and lent against the table. “Strange how everything keeps coming back to our sex lives, huhn?” I remarked, turning back to my spaghetti and briskly twisting it around with my plastic fork.

“It is, it is,” Duke approved, mirroring my movements.

“By the way,” I continued, remembering something, “what was with all the slamming of lunch trays and general bad temper-ness, et cetera?”

“Oh… nothing,” replied Duke with an air of… well, airiness. Is there a synonym for that word? Yes, many, I choose you, buoyancy. Erm… yeah.

“Yeah, right, I’m not buying it. What’s up?”

“Uh… it’s just this stuff with Brendan and my parents,” Duke said, stretching his arms up high and running a hand through his already messy hair. “It doesn’t matter.” I felt like saying that cheesy ‘If it matters to you, it matters’ line but decided against it. I mean, so not my style. Plus, I don’t really know his brother Brendan, currently aged fourteen that well. I s’pose it’ll get back to me eventually.

“Any way,” Duke went on, “the bell’s gonna go for next period in like twenty seconds.”

I elbowed him and said, “You only want to go because it’s gym.”

He let go and placed a hand at his side, wincing. Then he shrugged in typical boy manner before saying, “Well, yeah, but can’t help but be who I am, can I?”

“Yeah, you could turn into her,” I replied, pointing at Danny.

“No,” Duke uttered, disbelievingly.

“Yes,” I said, widening my eyes and nodding. “Or Cassie. It’s your choice, really.”

“Class,” Danny interjected.

“Class,” Cassie agreed.

I ditched my half-eaten spaghetti and we made our way to the gym lockers.

Mr. Carwin, our PE teacher barely noticed our five-minute-late presence because he was too busy checking out Isabell, Elizabeth and Co.’s too short short shorts and too tight shirts. I shuddered in disgust and watched Danny jog over to her gym class and join Cassie, who’d arrived with some of the guys from our table.

Duke and I stood there, searching for the boys who were throwing baskets at the far end of the room.

“Come on,” Duke said, gesturing in the direction we were looking and setting off around the edge of the big court.

“Sure, I’ll do anything you want master,” I replied but amiably followed my bigheaded friend.

Duke flicked his head back, eyeing me playfully and winked. I burst out into a fit of giggles and continued on our way, the fact that I had received a note from God only knows who had completely fled my mind.

XXX

After the particularly sweaty gym lesson, I bumped into Cassie, exiting the girls’ locker rooms stage right.

“Hey,” Cassie peeped.

I replied with same word, inwardly thinking that English greetings were curiously limited.

“Are you going to the party?” she queried, looking at my expression furtively.

What party?

“Oh… yeah, maybe…” I crossed my eyes in an effort to get the right word, making Cassie laugh. “I dunno, are you?”

“Definitely,” she said, eyeing a nearby semi-hot guy. He was conveniently shirtless for everyone’s pleasure (except mine. Although, I can’t deny that his abs weren’t exactly excruciating to my sight, then again, I’ve seen so many shirtless guys in my time, the experience is getting boring).

He jogged off in the direction of the guys’ gym lockers and flipped his hair back flirtatiously. Cassie smiled then looked at me, giggling like a mad rabbit.

“My God! When will you learn?” I shook my head disappointedly, yet a smile remained on my face.

She rolled her eyes at me and continued walking towards our normal lockers, swaying her hips in the way that only she could.

I laughed to myself and gathered my books up before using the heel of my foot to shut my locker door and trailing my way back down the hallway to find our World History classroom. I have no idea why in the world I chose World History for a major; it’s a choice I regret making as I have no interest whatsoever in the B.S. our teacher natters on about every day.

I rode the rest of the school day like I was on a cloud, literally watching everything pass me by and tuned into absolutely nothing. I wasn’t in deep thought or anything (although Duke’s dumping and his strange attitude was something to seriously think about), I just wasn’t interested. So when I yanked my locker door open for the umpteenth time in a day and a piece of paper flutter gracefully to the floor, I was, well, kinda surprised.

My books fell to the floor in a cluttered mess and I stooped to snatch the note from the ground. I looked around to see if anyone was watching me, then read it quickly, thinking, Ugh! The grubby little scrap of paper was taped to the inside of my locker, so whoever it was knew my combination.

Ainsley,
Go to the party with me.
Your Secret Admirer. XX

Once more… Party… What party?

Sound of ping noise as virtual light bulb appears out of nowhere above my head.

Cassie: party. Secret admirer: party. Gah! This is way too big for my (not exactly) little brain.

In the meantime, Duke had noticed my rather loud book-thumping episode. Who wouldn’t?

I pulled the tape off the paper and held it out for Duke to read over my shoulder.

A moment later he shook his head. “No style.”

“What, what?” Danny exclaimed, announcing her arrival and snatching the paper out of my hand. She read it quickly before saying, “At least he’s to the point, what party?”

“D- Uh…” Duke said, rubbing his chin distractedly and making goldfish faces.

“What?” I asked, getting slightly impatient.

When he continued to say nothing but obscenities I thumped him on the back and demanded, “Spit it out.”

Duke swallowed and opened his mouth, shut it and then opened it again when everything tumbled out in a jumbled mess.

“Come again,” I said, shoving my ear – along with the rest of my head – next to his mouth to hear him properly.

“That would be the party that I’m hosting.”

“Yeah… Right…” I splutter sarcastically.

Duke said nothing, just looked at me with a guarded expression on his face incase what happened next actually happened.

“WHAT???”

Yeah, that would be me… shouting… very loudly… after class had ended… in the hall… where everyone and anyone could hear me.

Fortunately, Danny clasped a hand over my mouth, effectively ending my very long, very boring word. Only when I started turning purple due to lack of air, did she take away her hand.

“You’re having a party and you didn’t invite me?” I turned to Duke incredulously. “Oh just wait ‘til I get my hands on you. There’s gonna be nothing left except for an ear and three teeth.” I inched towards Duke, my fingers outstretched and contorted in an extremely scary manner when two arms threw themselves around me, restraining me from my prey.

“You’re so dead, you little shit! You have no idea how dead you’re going to be. I’m going to incinerate your bones, you big fat butthead…” Oh how the (loud) rambling of threats did nothing whatsoever to improve my situation.

Whoever it was that had me by the waist, dragged me away, kicking and screaming, all the way down the hall. My captor let me go, throwing me into a close by seat.

“Paul? Er… thanks…” I mumbled awkwardly.

“No problem. Next time you have a meltdown, don’t scream so loud that the whole God damn world can hear you. I’ve ear drums and I’d like to keep it that way for the next forty or so years,” he replied.

I looked down. “Oh.”

“You’d better get going, if you don’t want to be late,” Paul suggested, levering a hand under the strap of his bag which was slung loosely over on shoulder.

“Yes.”

I marched down the hall, stooped down to pick up my own bag and tried to leave in the direction of the parking lot. I would have succeeded too, if another two pairs of arms hadn’t grabbed me by the hoodie, effectively choking me, and spun me around to look at the arms’ owners.

“Aren’t you forgetting that little matter of detention?” Danny hissed in my ear.

“Er. No?”

She rolled her eyes so strenuously that I think they might’ve done a full 360.

XXX

At home, I climbed the stairs to the first floor landing and stopped by Paul’s room to say hello, noticing that the door was open.

Let me tell you many things – I can’t be bothered to count how many; I feel mentally drained.

My brother’s door is always shut and locked,

That would be because he was, and is still currently, gay,

My father has no idea about this fact, and

This piece of information was one of the last things Paul said to our mother.

Hence, this little parting gift (his gayness) is kept close to the jacket.

Paul was lying on his bed reading but he looked up when I pushed my head through the six inch gap between door and its frame.

“Hey,” he said warmly, rubbing the spot on the bed next to him, inviting me to, first, come in, second, sit down… on the bed, duh. I mentally slapped myself. I’m losing it, I thought.

“Hey you,” I replied, equally as warm. This boy is the only guy I reserve a certain soft spot for, much to the guys’ disappointment (you know who I’m talking about; Jamie, Grant, Vince and the others). He’s also the only one I allow to hug me without them getting a noogie from me in return. That includes Duke.

“So,” he said, all business like, pushing himself up on the pillows to look at me properly. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing,” I answered, staring off into somewhere. Please don’t ask where; I have no idea.

“Sure there is,” Paul retorted, eyeing my bag like it was going to impart on the secrets of his twin sister. Or at least one secret in particular. “Ah hah!” he cried joyfully, pulling a piece of paper from some hidey-hole.

Paul stood up, waving the paper high above his head and waving around out of my reach (yes, I know, we are the same height, give or take an inch).

“Give it back,” I yelled with not the slightest idea of what it might be. “Give it back, give it back!”

After five minutes of struggle, I gave up and sat back down on the bed, sulking as I smoothed out the duvet to entertain my hands.

“Ooh!” Paul muttered in that girly voice that people, like our sister, use too often. Sound of muttered reading under breath. “… ‘Your secret admirer XX’,” he continued, his voice rising in pitch with barely contained excitement.

A ripping sound went off as I successfully snatch part of the note out of Paul’s grip.

“Why’d you do that?” he asked, really upset. “Your first crush…”

I rolled my eyes, beyond patience for the trouble that that God-be-damned note had stirred. My life didn’t warrant the need to be so interesting and now wasn’t the time for that to change.

Meanwhile, Paul had evidently decided that this wasn’t my first crush (them-like-me, not me-like-them; I am crushless, I think), judging by his next sentence.

“Actually, no, there was that boy…” I stopped listening right there and then, finding the need for a brain fill with such utter garbage not so strong.

“Will you stop talking now?” I asked, ten minutes later, tapping him semi-hard on the arm, resulting in much-needed silence. “Good,” I amended. “Okay, I have an urge to watch Monsters Inc., are you joining me?” I have no idea why I want to watch the aforementioned Disney Pixar movie, I just needed to watch all the doors because I like them. Bleh!

Paul nodded and I leapt off the bed.

“Okay, then. I’m gonna go ditch my bag somewhere useful –” I heard him mutter something along the lines of ‘doubt it’, at which I frowned but continued all the same, “Shotgun not getting the popcorn!”

Paul sighed in defeat and we both left the room, heading in separate directions to meet in the home cinema.

I set up the stuff and we had just sat down to see that random little credits thing at the start when Paul suddenly turned to me.

“Wait, you’re just going to leave your ‘secret admirer’ hanging?” he asked concernedly.

“Well, yeah, that was the idea,” I replied, trying not to tear my eyes away from the screen.

“You’re so mean!” Paul cried, slightly outraged.

“Yep,” I nodded to accent the succinctness of my reply and how much I didn’t care about it.

Paul rubbed his chin in thought, looking so much like our father.

“What?” I blurted. “You’re not actually thinking of going, are you?”

“If it’s what it takes to get you out of the house,” he shoved me in the back for emphasis, “which only ever happens if you’ve got a game to go to, being all captain-y and stuff. And besides,” he continued reasonably, “I overheard Kamryn talking to her two friends on the three-way.”

“’Course you did,” I muttered under my breath.

Paul ignored me and continued all the same. “It looks like she’s been ditched for the night so she’ll probably drag us both along in the hopes of not turning up all alone and pulling together some semblance of her social life in one go. Maybe we can count how many guys she gets with in the one night. That should be interesting…”

“Oh,” I arched my eyebrows, “How very astute of you, sweet brother.” Ugh! Did I just hear that? My own brother, twin brother, plotting against m- well, us? Oh say it isn’t so.

I’m going to a party with my brother, my sister, my best friend, his ex-girlfriend, the guys, a bunch of sluts and everybody else at Dalebrook High who’s desperate enough for a scrap of social existence plus out of school stragglers.

And my secret admirer.

Oh, it couldn’t get better than this.

XXX

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was re-done. Hopefully it's better. Drop me some love in the form of reviews/review-like cyberspace thingies. Erm. Anyways. Lemme know what you think. Oh, and, so far, Seth or Duke:P

There is a character list down below. If you don't get even after the re-write, I suggest you take a look at it. If you're reading this strong and steady with an understanding of my brain, BRILLIANT, because you're doing way better than me.

~Mackenzie

XXX

-The Cliques-
(if guys had cliques…)

Basketball Boys:
Ainsley Tara Donovic: Protagonist
Duke Benjamin Macintosh: Co-protagonist and protagonist’s best friend
Jamie Muller and Grant Nott: best friends
Seth Andrews
Group has four extras plus a transfer

Artboys:
Paul Gregory Donovic: protagonist’s twin
Tigh Matthews: Paul’s bestfriend
William Thompson: Paul’s boyfriend
Group has two extras

Type Two Jocks, aka The Footballers:
Nathanial Reeves: dare I quote Myrika – “sex-vert”
and associates

Queen Bee & Co.:
Kamryn Ella Donovic: evil sister of protagonist, Queen of school
Mandy Robertson: ex-girlfriend of Duke Macintosh, follower of Kamryn Donovic
and associates

Outcast Girls and WOP (Women of Power) – conjoined group
Danny Morrison: Second-best friend of protagonist
Cassie Angonovic: best friends with Danny
Pearl Adams: student body president
Group has three extras plus a transfer

When the newbies are added into the plot, the group with an addition will be shown below my A/N, or if there isn't an A/N, it'll be at the bottom, ya know?