Pretty Girls

One

My mom finishes a curl, and it bounces back up a little as it falls, then repeats the pattern until she's on her last one. When my silky hair is all curled up, I turn towards my mom and she smiles at me, " Today's your big day," she reminds me, " Today my baby girl starts high school."

And indeed it was.

We stand in silence, avoiding what we don't want to bring up, avoiding what really goes on in the high school I'm going to, why Crescent Springs High School should be closed down and why I shouldn't be going to a public school at all, especially this one.

But I chose to, my mom and my dad tried to stop me, to convince me to go somewhere else but I declined. I had already made plans for this school, plans I can't back out on. Plans that have kept my sanity for about a few months now, ever since that night when everything changed.

"High school is only as good as I make it be mom," I say, kinda as a respond to my thoughts, encouraging me to go on with my plan for this year.

"Some people never realize it's their choice."

The wait for the school to open was a drag, mainly me filling every genre of music I can in my ears, from heavy metal, to rock and roll, or just plain classical music. Then the doors finally opened, and everyone shouted, some screams, some groans, but I was jumping with joy on the inside. For I had been waiting for a long time for today to come, and now it's here.

Lunch time came around fast and as I expected, my beginning classes were just intros and everyone talking to their friends, I however, was too focused to talk. Searching around the lunchroom I used my information from what I heard about them. Then I saw them.
They were all together, sitting apart from everyone else, resembling royalty, like I knew they would.

"Is this seat taken?" I asked approaching them, and they looked at at each other, then laughed.

Keep it together Savannah.

"Sweetie you can't just come over here with your dolled up hair and your designer clothes and ask to be in our empty spot, you gotta earn it," one of them of whom I guessed was the leader said. I scoffed.

For Christ's sake she looked almost like a model, with no smears on her make-up and no glitches in her outfit. Perfect skin, perfect smile, perfect everything, but just like them all, a disoriented soul.

"Earn a seat? Wow, cocky much? No thanks. As if I cared which seat I sat in, they're all filled with rotted gum, they're all old. I'd rather sit in a free one."

"Are you implying that these aren't good enough? Because it's usually the other way around."

"Not in this case, but it's not like you care, Miss Popular," I snapped, then waited for her response. She studied me, they all did. When no response came, I added," That's what I thought," and walked away.

"Wait!" She called me back.

"I'm Miranda, you've officially earned your seat."

***