Aiden's Point of View
Seeing as I spent an extra hour looking at myself in the mirror, I calculated that I will be at most ten minutes late to my first period class. This may seem like a problem, as my lack of presence will be noticed, but fear not, there was no way I will ever get in trouble. Teachers will lecture me their "this-tardy-behavior-will-not-be-tolerated" speech, but with some charm and a flash of the pearly whites, the teacher will instantly have forgotten what he or she was yelling at me for.
As I walked down the halls, fellow peers would cry for my attention, slapping my hands, calling my names, offering me hugs and sexual favors, which confirmed the fact I was pretty popular. I wasn't too sure though. Our school was insanely huge where no one really knew of each other. I was just liked by the people who knew me.
Because I ran late, when I entered the school, the halls were entirely empty. I even heard my own footsteps as I walked over to my first class. It surprised me, really. With thousands of people per grade, how was it that I was the only one late? Perhaps I was the only one who was able to work the system. I was pretty hot after all.
"Fifteen minutes late. Great," I told myself right before I entered the class room. I spent an extra five minutes in the bathroom making sure my hair looked good. The gel did not stick in my hair this morning. It took more than the usual amount for it to be positioned the way I wanted it to be, which was like a ski slope, flat and smooth in the back, eventually curving upwards until it reached a ninety degree angle in the front. Once I got it in my desired position, I saw it looked like I was wearing a tube of glue in my hair, so I had to wash all of it out, then do it all over again. Otherwise, I would not have been late to school. Let me describe my other astonishing physical features, which I spent a majority of my time perfecting, like a writer to his or her novel.
Even though my eyes were this sort of brown and dull color, they were brought to life whenever I said or did anything that had emotion to them. I would have worn contacts, like a mysterious violety-blue hue, or even a forest green, but that would have genetically made no sense. No one in my lineage carried such features, which would have made people notice my high sense of vanity once they met my parents and saw the incoherency of eye color. The hair in which I perfected the style of everyday was a pretty light blonde, which people have accused of being subject to dye or bleach, but the sun was the only bleach I used. My skin was tan, not orange, may I add, even though I went to a tanning booth, often, for ten-to-fifteen minute increments. Five out of the seven days a week I went to the gym which gave me an athletic look despite my hatred for sports. No, my muscles did not protrude, but when I wore those muscle-designed shirts from Abercrombie, my chest and arms did appear toned. My face was shaped like a heart and I grew slight stubble in order to give off the impression I was older than eighteen. My nose was straight. My eyebrows were perfectly straight, but had a slight downwards arch towards the end. My lips were heart shaped and kissable, being a bit on the thin side, but they made making out work, so it was all good. I had a strong square jaw. All around, I was hot. Thank you, mom and dad.
One may have called me superficial, vain, and materialistic, which was extremely true. Vanity was something I took very seriously because, in our society, everyone was vain. People may not have liked to admit it, but were there any ugly movie stars? Were recording artist's fat? Sexual desire and attraction was caused when one saw someone who was good looking. No one ever saw the hot guy go with the ugly girl because that clearly never happened unless the hot guy was manipulated, blackmailed, or pretty much delusional. With the evidence I just provided, it was obvious the gel ordeal was extremely important and not something that should have been disregarded like yesterday's newspaper. The good news: the hair looked good now. I nodded and smiled before I opened the door.
"Aiden, why are you late?" The teacher instantly asked. I rolled my eyes only to see the entire class was staring at the chalkboard.
"Car trouble. Transmission gave out. There was nothing I could do," I shrugged my shoulders. Time to turn on the charm, "If the transmission blows out, then the entire car goes," I raised my brows, letting the wrinkles on my forehead show I cared.
"Otherwise," I slid into one of the desks, "I would have been here fifteen minutes ago with my notebook out, anxiously taking notes." I smiled, showing off my pearly white teeth, and winked.
"Just don't do it again."
"Oh, you know I won't," but I really will, "but if there's anything I could do, like do some extra credit or help you re-shelve the back closet, then I am more than happy too." Trying to play it off as if I was not a complete shit show in life really made the teachers appreciate me. I knew what was about to happen.
She giggled and motioned her hand in the students' general direction. "Oh, don't be silly."
"You know I'm sorry."
"I know. I know."
She turned around to face the chalkboard. She picked up a piece of chalk and began to solve a derivative problem. I exhaled a breath of relief as I leant back in my chair. I sloppily took out a notebook and threw it on my desk. Turning to a new page, I began to doodle with my pen at hand. As if I would really have taken notes. If academia was my priority, I would not have been ten-to-fifteen minutes late willingly.
"Anyone else would've gotten a detention," the kid next to me whispered.
"I know that."
Life was a breeze, literally.
(Author's note: Because I am suffering from jet lag, and therefore, have been staying up all night, I came up with this idea. I got a few chapters written in my notebook, but I know where I am going with this. It is cliché, but it is cute. Review please!)