voodoo doll // c.hood

01; the pretty boy

C A L U M

Ah, the start of year 12. The final year of my education, the year that really does count. The year you had to be done experimenting with career choices and ideas, and truly knuckle down with deciding the rest of your life.

No fucking pressure.

It was the Wednesday of my first week back at school, and to be fair, it hadn't been that bad. I mean, apart from the grumbling, self-hating teachers, the abundant and difficult amounts of school work, the perky, over dramatic and clingy girls, and the hormonal, dick head guys...

Who am I kidding? School had been shit, even for someone like me. If this was one of those shitty chick flicks, and I am happy it isn't, I would be known as the jock. The captain of the soccer team, the guy who always has immense amounts of hot girls hanging off him, the guy you wanted your girlfriend to stay away from.

Boys wanted to be me, and girls wanted me to be in them.

But fuck stereotypes. The stupid system that our society so openly represented made me feel sick. All that I was trying to do with my life was have a purpose, to succeed in whatever the hell I wanted to do and not to be shoved into some category, so everyone else knew who I was.

I'm seen as the star athlete, but the truth is that I hate soccer. I would much rather be hanging at my own house by myself than coaching a team of fuck wits who looked up to me. I didn't want to be looked up to,and I didn't want to be seen a figure of authority. Because when you stripped me bare and broke me down, I am just a 17 year old kid who is clueless to what he even is doing.

To be frank, I did like girls. I mean, of course I do. And having heaps of girls interested in me would be great, if they were really interested in me, and not my status. I've hooked up with a few girls, out of boredom and pulsing hormones, but no girl has really stuck in my mind. If I had to say I had a type, it would be someone who reflects the real me.

Someone who likes to party and get pissed, but doesn't do it every weekend. Someone who doesn't care if they don't conform and people don't like them. Someone who doesn't listen to bullshit house music and has a cultured music taste. But how was I going to find someone like that when I had the most fake front up?

So many ifs, so many whys and so many hows that I didn't want to have time to contemplate.

I had gotten through the majority of the day, having biology, english, maths and sport being done and dusted. It was lunch time, probably the most favoured time of the day at school. Time for girls to bitch about each other, and boys to discuss how much ass they get. Riveting conversation, I know.

I was sitting outside on the school oval on the grass, alongside my best friends Ashton and Luke. Ashton's girlfriend Mikayla was also sitting with us, more like on top of Ashton as they engaged in an intense and seemingly sloppy make out session. I sat with a sandwich in one hand and used my other to pick out the green blades of grass. Luke was rambling on about the game coming up on Friday night, and I honestly couldn't care less.

"So Cal, I was thinking right. Don't ask me how it came to me, because it just did. So with the game right, you know soccer? Well what if we completely changed our game plan? I mean, I know the current one is treating us pretty nicely, but what if we like changed it up? You know what I mean?" Luke exclaimed, as I sat in silence staring at the kid who was supposedly meant to be in the highest maths class.

"Stop talking about soccer mate, you're giving me a headache." I spoke, my eyes darting at his in an attempt to shut him up.

"But you're the captain! Who else am I supposed to talk to?" Luke whined back, slowly shuffling away from Ashton and Mikayla as they rolled over to switch make out positions.

I rolled my eyes at the explicit couple, before mumbling back. "Maybe I don't want to be captain anymore."

Luckily, Luke didn't hear me. He was too focused on something walking towards a group of girls. Something with long tan legs, bleach blonde hair, and large breasts bursting from it's two size too tight school polo. Noticing us both staring, she ran her fingers through her fake hair and forced out a laugh, as if she had just heard the funniest joke in the world. Her friends stood around her, trying to catch our stare and mimick their 'leader'.

Holly Sawyer. The it girl. The girl who if we were in a chick flick, I would be dating. She was interested in me, for sure. But she was also interested in everyone else who had a functioning penis and high status.

She glanced over her shoulder, and stared right back at me. She half smiled, throwing her hand up in a small wave before turning back to her group of followers.

"She so just waved at you Calum! Man you are so in! She'll probably take you upstairs at the party after the game Friday night, and make your good night a lot better!" Luke laughed, bringing his hand up to shove my shoulder.

"Yeah, after she's done taking out her ratty ass extensions and removing the thick layer of cake from her face!" I laughed back, shaking my head when Luke just looked back at me in disbelief.

Ashton emerged from on top of Mikayla, wiping his mouth and smirking at me. "You're never gonna get a girl if you keep thinking like that Cal."

"I'm never going to be able to take you serious if you keep looking like you're wearing the remnants of Mikayla's red lipstick Ash." I countered back, causing Ashton to huff and Mikayla to softly giggle.

The four of us got lost in conversation again, mostly complaining about how much harder year 12 was than year 11, when we were suddenly interrupted by Holly yelling and crying at the same time. I moved closer to Luke so I could see what was causing her to be so obviously distressed, to see the same girl who sat next to me in History and was one of the hottest chicks I had ever seen before.

"My hair is not fake, thank you very much Amy! You have no right to come around here insulting me on topics you clearly know nothing about, with your shitty bangs. It's not 2007 sweetheart, move on!" Holly screeched, trying to remain as cool as possible.

"First of all, your hair is fake. It looks as though a monkey got shaved and they stuck the dead bits of its fur to your head. Secondly, it's Amity, not that I give a shit if you or your little posse of sheep know it. And thirdly, sweetheart you were the one who called me over to insult me and my friends, so don't go pointing your perfectly manicured fingers at me!" Amity called back, staring down Holly like she was the prey she was about to capture.

"Whatever Amethyst, go make out with Michael Clifford and get drunk on the thought of actually being liked!" Holly yelled, sniffing back tears. Amity evilly smiled at her, knowing that she had cut her deep with her comments about her fake beauty.

"Pot calling the kettle black!" Amity laughed, shaking her head. Mikayla stood up to walk over to the girls to see what was going on, and the rest of us trailed behind her in curiosity.

"What are you on about? We are humans, not kitchen appliances! Dumbass!" Holly replied, facing the rest of us in an attempt to create laughter out of her dumbness.

"How do people even deal with you? I'm surprised your Mum didn't give birth to you screaming saying just shove it back in me!" Amity exaggerated, earning a loud laugh out of me. Holly's head snapped around to me, her eyes glazing over at the sight of me laughing along with her opponent.

"At least I have parents who love me, bitch!"

Amity shook her head once again, before mumbling. "Whatever, I need a smoke." She turned around, lifting her right arm up and giving the rest of us the finger, her hips slightly moving from side to side. I watched her walk away, to another guy who was waiting on a picnic bench smoking. He wrapped his arms around her body, engulfing her in a hug.

And for the first time in forever, the green monster over took my emotions.