I'm The Geek Who Slapped A Football Player.

37 - "Go Suck a D*ck, Cupid,"

Chapter 37 - "Go Suck a D*ck, Cupid,"

"And, just, one more..." My mom mutters as she shoves another - and hopefully the damned final - bobby pin into my hair. I think it just penetrated my skull and my brain's gonna start oozing down the back of my neck, but what the hell, my hair's gonna look nice.

I say 'nice' with sarcasm because my mother is about as skilled at hair as my cat Nibbles, and his favorite thing to do is grab a random squiggly curl with his teeth and yank.

I'm allowing my mother to do my hair because... well honestly I don't really freaking know.

Well alright, that's a lie. I'm letting her do this for me because she wants to. Like really really wants to. Because she's all spazz-happy excited for me, because it's homecoming week and I, Clarisse the Sebastian Slapper, have somehow been nominated to the Homecoming Court.

Truthfully I have a pretty good inkling about how I got nominated.

And her name starts with Fla and ends with Bimbo.

I have this theory that Nyssa Randy, Supreme Queen Hoe of Skanklandia, Super Territorial Fuck Buddy of Sebastian Mac-Fucking-Crain, Absolute FlaBimbo and just plain snobby little cray-cray bitch somehow got me within the royalty candidates. I don't know how, but I just have this gut feeling that she did, and somehow plans to try and pull something on me as some pathetic prank like from some clichéd movie.

Because she hates me.

And is a bitch.

And isn't original enough to try anything else.

Of course my mom doesn't know annnnnnny of this. And for good reason of course, because I couldn't guarantee her not hopping into her car and pedal-to-the-medaling it to Nyssa's house to introduce Nyssa to the business end of her Impala (which frankly is a thought that makes me want to cackle but I'd rather take care of the little ho-bag myself).

I only just put together my little theory last night, so no one else knows, though I might just tell Scarlett to see what she thinks. Even if I'm damn sure I'm right.

My mother's hands pat my froofy, aching head. "What do you think?" She asks.

I study myself in my vanity mirror. Hold back a flinch.

Today's Homecoming Theme is God/Goddess Day, and Scarlett informed me that it's basically just the Student Council's way of getting by the No Toga Day Rule (some previous students appreciated the connection of togas to college which connected to alcohol and it all led to some prohibited things). She'd told me that most people would be wearing togas (aka, a bed sheet) and posing as Greek or Roman Gods and Goddesses. Of course people can easily dress up as any other kind of God or Goddess (I'm wondering if I'll see Jesus today), but togas are pretty easy.

When I'd told my mom what I'd planned on dressing up as for today, she'd just about begged me to let her help me. My initial reaction was, ah, helltothefreakingno, but my dad was standing right behind mom and the look on his face just screamed 'PLEEASSE'. So I relented...

Now, my mass of curly, unsustainable hair is piled onto the top of my head like a 2000s prom hair disaster. There's an extra amount of weight on my cranium that I can relate to that game where you see how many pillows you can balance on your head, and I can almost precisely tell where each bobby is because most are digging into my scalp. God knows how many bobby pins are shoved in there to keep it in place...and worse, how many are going to get LOST in there...

My mom had the sense to pull some straggly coils loose from the mass to attempt to frame my face, but they basically just get caught in my glasses.