The Girl Who Wore Jordans

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

      “Liz! Let’s go!” Lauren directed firmly.

      “I don’t want to,” I mumbled, crossing my arms across my chest defiantly.

      “Stop throwing a mini temper tantrum and let’s just, like, go!” she stomped her foot in annoyance.

      “I don’t want to,” I reiterated.

      “Look, it’s only a fifty-two minute block, and all you have to do is stand in the corner and then fake a stomach ache mid way through,” she reasoned calmly. “It works every time!”

      “I don’t want to!” I repeated for the third consecutive time. She wasn’t going to win this battle. There was no way in hell she was going to make me go; I wouldn’t.

      “Suck it up and look at some attractive biceps; you’ll live!” she said, grabbing hold of my hand. I resisted as she tried to pull me from the hard, wooden bench to which my butt was happily glued. My arm felt as though it could detach from its socket at any second. Despite her thin, unassuming exterior, Lauren had some strength in her.

      “No!” I cried, as she somehow managed to yank me out of my comfortable position and force me to stand.

      “Liz, you look fine, and I heard we were playing volleyball today, so, if you’re lucky, you’ll get hit in the head and sent to the nurses office for fear of a concussion!” she dragged me behind her as I continued to struggle against it.

      “Give me one good reason I should go!” I demanded stubbornly.

      “Alex Campbell is in this class,” she said, releasing my hand only to have me drop to floor in slow motion. She shot me a smug look as I got up with a scowl plastered on my face.

      “Why do I care?” I questioned, vaguely recalling the boy to whom she was referring.

      “Because he’s Eric Wilson’s best friend… and he’s really hot,” she explained, walking over to the door.

      “I still don’t get it,” I rolled my eyes, hating myself for giving in and allowing her to win as my feet acted as traitors, carrying me over to the door.

      “If Alex doesn’t like you, then there’s no way you can become Eric’s girlfriend-” she began.

      “I’m almost positive that Alex does like me, and who says I even want to become Eric’s girlfriend?” I interrupted, as I watched Lauren push the door of the locker room open, exposing the glossy, wooden floor of the gym.

      “Ha. That’s funny, Liz. Anyone who doesn’t want to be Eric Wilson’s girlfriend is probably, like, high or something,” she laughed, as I contemplated the point she had brought up. Did I really not want to be Eric Wilson’s girlfriend, did I simply not know due to the fact the issue hadn’t even arose, or was I merely thinking too much into Lauren’s harsh words? The later was the most likely of the three.

      Through the time that I had known Lauren, I gathered that she had two sides to her. One part of her was sweet, nice, and helpful to everyone, while the other was ruthless, determined, and set on getting what she wanted. It was an interesting mix, and I much preferred the bubbly, pleasant Lauren oppose to the demanding, aggressive one any day.

      She was the perfect example of a cliché, teenage girl, uttering the phrase “OMG” more times than normal people blink. Her style involved anything pink, and usually consisted of sparkles. She was a risk-taker, always one to push limits to as far as possible. The word “Boyfriend” wasn’t in her vocabulary, for she found being single much more enjoyable, and feared commitment.