-BAD LUCK-

I always carry my white and pink striped purse everywhere I go. It's truly bad luck if I forget it,. The worst things happen.

Number one, I can't touch up my face. Just the mere thought, that I don't have the power to touch–up makes me feel ugly. Of course then, (though it rarely happens) I lose confidence in my absolute beauty.

When I lose confidence I start blurting out the wrong answers in science or even flirting with guys that aren't up to my standards. My friends intervene so I don't humiliate myself, (though that rarely happens).

It's not exactly a pleasant job, intervening. Would you want the dirty occupation of watching your best friend associating with smelly freshmen in torn wrestling jerseys with greasy black armpit hair and pubic lice? Even being seen with someone so low is devastating to ones reputation. Girls, trust me, it's a nasty cycle. Never forget your purse.

Numero dos, I feel lost without my necessities, such as gently scented lotion, compactable hairbrush and finger nail clippers. Who knows when one will have an emergency lunch date and a hangnail at the same time? It happens.

Finally, (the most important) number three, I just don't come off as trendy. Looking fabulous is probably the most important thing one can do to maintain a certain elevated status within the popularity matrix. That includes being trendier, not to mention sexier than all of your girlfriends combined Besides, my purse is part of my identity. Most people don't (and never will) understand this. Except of course for the super-tastic Zoë Phile . She's my best amiga.

Today I met thegirls for lunch. Late as always, I only had twenty minutes of lunch break left and still had to pick up Zoë from the white palace.

Of course, she pitched a massive bitch-fit when I got there. So I picked up Jeri first, I mean common.

Zoë can be such a spoiled brat. She lives in this big white mansion near the French embassy. Like seriously, what can be cooler than that?

I guess I have to feel kind of sorry for her though. I mean everyone at school does. Her stepmother is Portia London, (the 80's fashion designer) Thanks to the tabloids, everyone in the city limits knows that she's nothing but a washed up alcoholic living off Zoë's trust fund.

London doesn't give a shit about her and lets her do whatever she wants, whenever she wants.

Like today, she has ten pages due in English tomorrow morning, and she's still going out all night with me. She has no priorities. I suppose I should be a good friend and remind her. But, that wouldn't be any fun.

After lunch I had to hurry back to school for class. Luckily for Zoe she only has two more requirements to worry about before she graduates. She has afternoon's free unlike Jeri and I.

We showed up for fourth period English, a half hour late. But since Jeri's mum is fucking our married English teacher Mr. Rosem, all was fine.

I'm taking Spanish fourth period; it's tre dull. I knew I should have signed up for French. I really think I would have more of a flare for the romance languages.

It seems foreign language is actually a requirement for university or something. Who'd a thought? The guidance counselor says that I have to squeeze in at least a two before I even try to start applying for any form of higher education.

Like I'm going to university. Well, everyone can have their dreams, even stupid guidance counselors.

But yeah right, I'm in grade twelve and I probably won't even graduate this year. I was supposed to graduate with the class of 2030, but it looks like it might just be '31 instead.

Being beautiful and talented takes a lot of work, especially when all the other girls are ruthlessly rich, not to mention so full of plastic and injections that you can't tell what's real and what's Barbie doll.

I try to use my talent to make up for the rich part, but no one really cares because being rich is so much more important.

I wasn't always popular, even though it might seem like it. In fact, my parents used to be "up the creek without a paddle." That's Mum's favorite phrase to describe the unfortunate twelve years we spent in country.

My parents, my two brothers and I, lived on a farm called Trenton out in the boonies. There was only one other kid my age for 10 miles, Adam Adair. He was kind of cute in that sad, quiet Princess Bride / farm boy kind of way.

He followed me around like a lost puppy. Not cause he was in love with me or anything, only because I was the only kid as unpopular as he was. His foster parents weren't very good to him, and he came to school all bruised and beat up. He stayed to himself mostly, and the others thought that it was right out queer behavior.

My parents felt sorry for him. They used to invite Adam and his little sister Adia to dinner almost every weekend and holiday. That's how we got to be friends in the beginning. When I started school no one else would talk to me, so the friendship kind of bloomed out from our mutual gawkiness and love of science-fiction.

When I was in my sixth year at the local junior school, my grandfather invented Insta-white teeth cleaner and everything changed instantly. Suddenly we had money for new clothes, contacts and acne ointment.

I had been unpopular, poor and mercilessly teased. I was the ugly, overweight girl with two inch thick plastic glasses and a massive overbite.

But suddenly it seemed like every girl wanted to be my friend, and every boy wanted to grab my boobs or write me a love song on their electric guitar.

Two months later we moved into London to live with my grandfather at his new summer home. I wasn't sorry to say goodbye. My parents enrolled me in the Manchester private academy and everything began to look up.

I was the rich mysterious new girl. No one knew anything about my poverty-stricken past. They thought I had always been exactly like them, a shallow trust fund baby.

On the year anniversary of my grandfather's paten of the Insta White he was found on the floor of his study dead, stabbed eighteen times. My mum and dad inherited the company and it's conglomerates. No body liked my grandpa for anything but his money. I can only remember 10 people going to his funeral, most of which were obliged family members or mistresses.

The whole company went belly-up during the murder investigation. The American Internal revenue service, discovered incriminating financial journals. My grandpa had stolen the idea from some guy he worked with, Jake Ellis. Insta white ceased to exist.

However, since it was decided that Jake murdered my grandfather in cold blood, and would be imprisoned indefinitely, we were allowed to keep our house and several million of the profits.

As Jake Ellis rots in prison, he is by default providing me with a four star wardrobe, weekends at the spa and an antique red convertible.

The last bell of the day rung, and in some coincidental sync Jeri hopped up beside me at my locker. I took my time touching up my lipstick, but finally turned to her when I felt she couldn't take the suspense of seeing me anymore.

I always liked Jeri the least I think. She was head cheerleader, and much too peppy and underhanded for her own good. She lived for the football games, and her body was so toned you could balance a egg on her stomach. If that wasn't a good reason to despise someone…

I smiled and slammed my locker shut, dropping my book bag on the floor beside my legs.

"Hey Jer, what's going on."

I was far too tired to put up with shit today, so I didn't even bother trying to make it sound like I was interested. I had been stressed for weeks about classes, and Jeri just seemed to pass every one effortlessly.

"Are you going to the party tomorrow night?"

"What?" I asked as I bent down to massage my foot. I had been wearing these pointy Italian five inchers lately and they were killing my balance.

"What are you talking about. What party?"

"Oh, it's the sheikest thing. Gavin gave me an invite. See?" Jeri held out a smallish bright yellow piece of card-paper and dangled it in my face.

I grabbed the paper out of her hand, instantly jealous.

" You are specially invited to watch Gavin Lucas turn 18! Live music, food and free alcohol!"

I looked up and caught a smug smile spread across Jeri's face. I always had the suspicion Gavin would have be happier hooking up with Cheerleader Barbie.

Jeri adjusted the lace straps of her extra low-cut chemise and stretched her fake chest out in front of her territorially.

"What's the matter Tea, you didn't get one yet?" I had the urge to smack the smile off her face, but thought better of it.

"Well, I wouldn't worry, after all, you guys are together. I'm sure he won't forget you of all people. You know, unless something's changed since he saw me."

She spun around and stalked off toward the stairwell, invitation still in hand. I grabbed my book bag, and smashed my locker with my fist.

Sometimes I could be so male.

A voice from behind me shattered my self loathing. I turned around and faced Gavin, who was looking at me with a confused expression.

"What's the matter babe?" He jaunted cockily, leaning against the locker cache.

I stared at him icily.

"Well, no matter. I'm here to make it all better. Give poppa a kiss."

"That's so gross Gav. I told you not to call yourself poppa around me. There something faintly incestuous about it."

"Incestuous?" Gavin looked up, searching his brain for the definition.

"Yeah it means like… like…"

"Sexual relations between persons who are so closely related that their marriage is illegal or forbidden by custom."

"Uhh. Yeah. That's basically it." I said dumbly, following Adam's fading figure down the hall.

He walked a few paces forward and then turned around and smiled at me before continuing down the hall.

"What the fuck was that? How the hell did he even know that? Are you cheating on me with some goddamned encyclopedia boy?"

"Yeah right." I answered protectively, "he's so under me Gavin. You know how all the freaks flock around me."

"Yeah. Does seem like it, doesn't it?"

"Who really cares. I know I don't. So anyways, listen, about your birthday party…"

"Oh common Tea. I told you already that I don't like big parties. I'm just spending tomorrow with my mum and dad. Nothing special. You won't be missing anything, I promise."

"Really?" I inquired trying to keep my voice from sounding bitter.

"Yeah. I wouldn't lie to you… listen Tea, did you want to come to my place after school. My parents are gone."

"Umm… I don't …"

"Please Tea, we never, you know… anymore."

Disgusted, I turned without a word and walked away.

"Whatever…" I heard Gavin spit behind me, "I can get better."

I walked quickly through the hall trying to avoid the confused looks that passed me. The fifth floor was the music/activities floor, and therefore still packed with over-achieving after-schoolies. I couldn't have picked a worse floor to have a nervous breakdown.

At the stair case, I paused. I was going to be girly and cry. I couldn't put it off for much longer, the tears were already forming. J

At the base of the stairwell, Jeri was handing out pep squad fliers from behind a pink papered folding table. She had a familiar smile on her face, and an extra peppy spring in her step.

My destination was the third floor bathroom. The toilet's were broken, so it was almost always vacant. I pressed the small down arrow beside the elevator, and held my breath till the metal doors slid open.

Once safely inside, I let go. Soundless tears slid down my right cheek. Seconds later, the elevator door opened and I was staring into the abandoned 3rd floor hallway. I rushed to the bathroom and locked myself inside the stall.

I felt so immature, so nursery school. I tried to console myself, by thinking that he didn't deserve, and I didn't want him anyways. But as hard as I tried to convince myself of these things, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something terribly wrong with me.

After nearly twenty minutes had gone by, and I had done my share of disgracing Gavin in graffiti, I begrudgingly stumbled out of the bathroom and toward the stair well.

But for some reason, I really didn't want to take the stairs. It was this weird instinctual preservation feeling, like nothing I ever had felt before. But, so compelling that I could do nothing but follow my intuition. I pressed the arrow, and the door slid open in front of me. I entered and leaned against the back wall waiting for the doors to close.

Just as they began to shut, someone yelled, "Please, hold the elevator."

Just because I was in a bad mood, didn't mean I shouldn't be polite. I shoved my arm out and stopped the doors from closing.

Adam smiled almost shyly, as he entered dragging a large book bag.

"Thanks."

"No problem." I turned in the other direction so I could concentrate on the wall.

We stood in silence as the elevator began to move slowly down.

"Tea…" Adam started apprehensively, turning toward my back.

Before I could answer. Before I could tell him exactly what I thought of him, and that nothing had changed just because we were alone together, the lights went out and the elevator stopped dead midway down the shaft.

Just a power outage.

"Tea?" his voice searched.

I was still president of the student government and he was still a scholarship freak. Nothing could change that. What did he think, just because we were alone together in the dark in a stalled elevator, meant he had any business talking to someone as beautiful and popular as I was.

What did he think this was, some kind of science fiction romance?