I woke up to the loud bell and a detention slip was on my desk that said, “One Week of detention.” Mr. Jenson left it on my desk while I was asleep. He’s so sweet. He didn’t wake me up. I will be looking forward to this all day.
Before I left, Mr. Jenson called after me, “Nice paper. It was good. I hope to see more from you Cinderella.” I smiled then left quickly. Walking to my locker, someone punched me in the boob. Rachel Peterson. I hate her... yet she’s my best friend.
“I’m winning!” Rachel cheered, clapping enthusiastically.
Punching each other in the boon is a game we play for fun. It may cause breast cancer, but it’s too fun. Also, this is a way we let out our steam when we’re pissed at each other. It is only one out of five hundred ways we let out or steam. Rachel and I are very violent people. It’s cool because we also keep a score.
I looked at Rachel. She was skipping everywhere. “You know what you should do to celebrate?” I asked her.
“You should buy us pizza.” I yawned.
Rachel is my best friend in the whole wide world and I’ve known her since Pre-school. It’s weird though. We are so different yet we are awesome together. Rachel is so friendly, cool, amazing, and so much more. I’m sarcastic, rude, mean, and things that surround that area. I guess opposites do attract.
Rachel patted my chin. “Cindy, you’re cute. If anything, you’re buying me pizza.”
I chuckled good-heartedly, “It’s like you don’t know me. You know I don’t have money.”
I’m not lying. I really don’t have money. My dad gives me a hundred dollars a week, but I put seventy for a college savings account, twenty into a different account in case I want something expensive in the future, and ten dollars to spend for the week. The problem is that I have already last weeks money and I haven’t gotten my allowance this week.
Rachel and I skipped through the school and to our lockers. Both of us had our lockers right next to each other so it’s really convenient. Having a locker next to my best friend is awesome. It’s the only way we can chat when we don’t have a class together.
“So how was your last class Cinderella?” Rachel asked, checking her hair in the tiny mirror on her locker door. I shook my head and retied my hair in a loose ponytail.
I replied, “Pretty crappy. I got detention for sleeping again.” I showed Rachel my detention slip and she chuckled.
I wrapped my arms around Rachel’s shoulders and laid my head in between the crook of her neck. She snuggled with me. “Just like you,” I retorted. “Just like you.” She pushed me away and slapped my face lightly. She closed her locker and I closed mine. She glared at me, then walked away quickly, having me stalk behind her. Then, she started running to her mom’s car--Mrs. Peterson drives a super shiny Chevrolet Tahoe SUV-- trying to get away from me. She's so slow. I caught up to her in ten seconds.
Rachel's family is incredibly rich. I mean my dad makes a ton of money, but Rachel's family has so much money that Rachel and her two parents could retire now. They live in complete and utter luxury. Mr. Peterson, Rachel's dad, he is a crazy, amazing computer genius! He fixes computers like a crazy person. It's super cool too. Mrs. Peterson, her career is amazing! She is a freaking modelling agent. The girls she agents for are absolutely gorgeous. But Mrs. Peterson is so much more prettier than they are. I wonder why she didn't go for modeling. She never told me why.
I stopped my pointless thinking and hopped into the car. Rachel threw her cashmere sweater at my face. “You’re so slow Cindy,” she teased.
I raised my eyebrow, surprised she would try to mock me. This is where my super awesome comebacks come in. “Just like you at everything else,” I remarked. If you ever want to mock me, go right ahead. Just know there is always a consequence to it. It’s like Newton’s third law. With every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.
After that, Rachel grumbled to herself and started playing her IPod. She pissed.
Tie... That will soon change.
While Rachel was being Rachel, I made conversation with Mrs. Peterson.
“How are you Mrs. P?” I asked. She started the car and looked at her rearview mirror to see me. She raised her Louiss Vuitton sunglasses, dazzling me with her bright, white teeth.
“Great Cinderella. Thanks for asking. How about you?” She started heading on to the freeway.
“I’m good and kind of drowsy,” I yawned, stretching.
“Mom? Can we go out for pizza?” Rachel asked all of a sudden. Her voice was all sweet and innocent like. I laughed. That’s so not Rachel.
“No,” Mrs. Peterson said easily. Rachel pouted, but Mrs. Peterson just ignored her.
This is why I love Rachel’s family so much. Even though they’re rich, they don’t spoil Rachel. They don’t spoil themselves either. They limit themselves on the things they can buy. It’s refreshing to know that some people are still like that. Did you know they donate to charity too? You have to admit, that is amazing.
I wish I had a mom like Rachel’s. I want a mom who cares enough to say to no to me because she loves me. I want a mom who hugs me when I’m sad and tells me everything is okay. Rachel’s mom is so caring and loving. She truly loves her daughter and shows it everyday. Mrs. Peterson is one of the people I think of as my mom. I hate my biological mom for leaving me. She should have been there from beginning to end. I wish she saw me grow up!
Did my mom really have to leave me without explanation? When she left me, she didn’t say a word. Nothing. I couldn’t go to my dad. He wouldn’t tell me anything. My mom never sent me a Christmas present, birthday present, or even a damn card! She didn’t do crap. She knows everything about me. She knows where I live! We haven’t moved since she left. I hate my mom. I just hate my mom.
Did you know that I have a tendency of zoning out? It gets pretty bad too. If you’re talking to me, and it happens, I’d recommend to give me a good slap in the face. It truly gets my attention. That’s why I had the little rant in my head about my mom, I hear a loud smack and my cheek aches, turning red in major pain.
“You mother fu-fu-OUCH!” Profanities were trying to seep out of my mouth, but I try to keep my mouth shut. Rachel started laughing hysterically while her mother looked at us like we were crazy. She shot Rachel daggers that could kill. I gripped my cheek firmly in my palms, trying to ease the pain. Clenching my teeth, fire burned in my eyes. The pain starting to ease. An idea pops in my head.
Revenge is sweet. Revenge is as sweet as jawbreakers because when you bite into them, you tend to scream. It’s pain you feel and I know how to do that. I punched Rachel in the boob. Hard. She screams in pain and clutches her boob. I smile.
“OW!!!” Rachel screeched. “You bi-jerk!” Mrs. Peterson slaps Rachel in the mouth for almost saying the b-word while I watch, enjoying every second of this scene. As you can see, Rachel and I have a problem with saying profanities. We cuss all the time at school, so when we get home, sometimes, it comes with us. It is a bad habit, but we never tried to stop it. We just got used to it.
“Okay.” I tried stopping all the madness. “That’s enough. Truce Rachel?” She studied my extended hand first, then my face. My expression was amused. She never touched my hand, just studied it.
“I’ll get you back later. We’re at your house. Now leave before I kick your butt!”