Talk To Me

04-I || A Kiss On The Cheek

Zach Emerson used to be the most obnoxious senior in Greenwood High-wait, scratch that, he still probably was the most obnoxious human being in this entire planet. He wasn't exactly good-looking, I mean sure, his smooth chocolate abs were quite impressive, but his black crew cut and the dimples in his face that hadn't lost the baby-fat yet looked cartoonishly handsome than realistically so.

His parents owned a mansion, or three, and since Zach was the only son he was the sole inheritor of the Emerson's oozing wealth. Cronies who desperately hung on to Zach's every word and who were mentally retarded enough to make Zach their role model had coined the nickname "Zach the King". If you were a King's crony, you were granted a respectable position on the popularity hierarchy of Greenwood High. It came at the cost of kissing Zach's ass and licking his branded sneakers clean, but hey, popularity's important if you want to survive in high school, right?

Majority of Greenwood High's answer: RIGHT!

Zach had loved to show off his privileges and constantly boast about himself because he faithfully believed his horned fat head was the center of the universe. No one had the heart-or the balls (or the boobs, as my super-feminist once-incredibly-close best friend Amelia would insist)-to tell him otherwise.

There had been an abbreviation: ZP, short for Zach's Princesses. It was a really disgusting title that none of the academic staff had gotten wind of, or maybe they had and hadn't know what it had meant, or maybe they had known what it had meant and hadn't wanted to believe it was true, because it meant going up against Zach's dad and that could've been scary.

When Zach once had managed to sleep with five girls of junior high in one week, it became sort of a game to him. No strings attached, just one night with the King and you're one of his princesses. A more delicate term for a "fuck buddy". It wasn't brutal, forced, or dominating, as the ZPs reported, but just a one-night-stand. You got special treatment, like access to Zach's help, which could be really useful if you wanted to bail out of jail after being caught for underage drinking, or get some fake ID to get into a club...you know, basic benefits you got from a rich friend.

When first heard about it, of course all the girls had united and puked in outrageous disgust, Amelia in the lead. It was wrong and sickening in so many ways. Zach's famous parties were traps to lure potential ZPs. You could be having a good time, by the pool, beer in hand, and the King would saunter up to you and whisper a few selected words in your ear, and you would be trooping upstairs into one of the mansion's well-furnished bedrooms with him holding your hand. And you would walk out a newly formed ZP.

The vow to never become a ZP hadn't lasted long. Day by day, it became obvious that many girls had given in. Technically there was no harm; you got a lot of benefits and a good night in bed because Zach did look like someone who would know what to do. The only thing that got tarnished was your self-respect and dignity as a woman.

I guess it had been easy for most girls to throw that away in face of popularity.

Back in the day, nearly every girl in junior High had been a ZP. But not me or Amelia, and just a few others. The King had made a move on each one of us, though. We'd coolly turned him down and he'd coolly avoided us. It was simple as that: you agree to becoming a ZP, you get benefits and become popular. You disagree, you stay a wimpy unpopular loser.

High-school grew unbearable because that's what the standard eventually came to; that's the standard Zach the King had brought the school to: you being respected or not in Greenwood High depended on whether you were a crony or a slave to him. Being a supreme feminist, Amelia had had quite vivid dreams of slowly and painfully vivisecting his package, as she had often told us in those days.