Little Ms. Perfect Gone Bad

01 - Good Girl

All of my life, it's been "good girl," this or "that a' girl, Stella," that. However, if I were to be brutally honest, I would say I'm sick of it. Sick of everyone's high expectations and their 'oh, aren't you cute?' Attitude. But if I were to yell why don't you shut the fuck up?! Everyone would gasp and be appalled. Why? Because no one expects that from Stella Willson: goody goody and little Ms. Perfect since diapers.

Why do I put up with it? Because its expected from me; because it's all I know. All my life I have lived to please, and please I do. I please everyone: My mother, who only wishes my brothers could be more like me: My father, who wishes he could go back and re-do his childhood - in my image this time: My two brothers, whom I let win every argument because I know it makes them happy. It seems pleasing people is second nature to me.

I think at first, I enjoyed it. I saw the happy faces on those I loved and knew that they were proud. But, by the time I realized pleasing people made me miserable as well, it had already been made a habit to hard to break...on my own that is. What if I had some help? Help from someone who had experience in breaking the rules? Who am I kidding? If they were going to help me they didn't just need experience, they needed to be good at it and, above all, enjoy it.

However, who would love something that they get punished for? A "guilty pleasure" if you will. No, I'll never find someone who can help, and besides, I have always been a coward, always taking the easy way out. So, wouldn't it be more easy to just go with a flow and keep pleasing people? To be honest, I have no idea, but I do want to change, and I'll do whatever it takes.

"Stella," I hear a voice call. I was suddenly jolted back into reality, where I sat in trig class with my text book open in front of me. "Stella? Are you okay? You seem...out of it."

I look over at the person speaking - Nicole Price - and respond. "What?" Nicole smiles and tosses some of her glossy blond hair over her shoulder.

"Well," Nicole begins. "Now that I have your attention, I would like to invite you to a party."

"A party," I echo. Parties were out of my comfort zone, and it was highly unusual for someone like Nicole Price, a popular girl, to ask me, a nerd/book worm and most of all, a wallflower, to a party. It just didn't happen. I look Nicole square in the eyes, she was gazing at me expectantly, clearly not noticing my stupor.

"A party," I repeat, a little louder this time, hopping she would take a hint and explain why she would want someone like me at a party.

"Yes, a party," Nicole says impatiently, glancing at her nails as though I bored her. "You do want to go to one don't you? I'm going out on a limb her and assuming you've never been to one. No offense."

I gingerly pushed my glasses up my nose. "Well, although you're correct in assuming I have yet to attend a high school party, you're wrong in assuming I want to go to one." I glance at the clock ticking away on the far wall. Five more minutes until class ends, and this conversation along with it.

Nicole gasps, like the idea of a teenager our age not wanting to go to an all-out party was so foreign to her, that it was completely alien. It takes a moment for her to get herself together before saying, "Fine with me I guess. I mean, it's not my fault if you don't want to go to an actual high school party, were you might have your first kiss or your first shot of vodka. Anyways, most kids in our grade have already done those things, so your just missing out-"

I held my hand up, cutting Nicole off. Did she really think I care? Or that this whole 'first time' speech was going to actually persuade me to go? "Look," I say. "I really appreciate the offer, but parties aren't really my thing. Plus, even if they were, my parents would never let me go."

Now Nicole looked offended. "Of course they won't, I'm sorry, I forgot you were Little Ms. Perfect, who lives to please. Never mind my offer, run home and tell daddy about your A+ on your calculus test. I'm sorry I even bothered."

I winced at being called Little Ms. Perfect, who lives to please. That was below the belt, and Nicole probably knew it too. I think, perhaps, that that's why I said what I did:

"You know what? Write the address down, oh! The time too and I'll see you there."

Nicole smiles at me, flashing her perfectly white teeth. She tears a scrap of paper from her notes and jots down and address and time, she then hands it to me. "See you there!" And then the bell rings, slowly all the students file out. I sighed, gathered my things, and walked out.

~~~

"Nicole Price asked you to go to a party?" Anna asked in disbelief. We sat on the hood of Anna's car in the parking lot on lunch break. I had just told Anna about what had happened in trig.

"Strange, isn't it?"

"No kidding, I'm glad you told her no."

"Uh, Anna, about that..."

"You didn't!" Anna gasps.

"I did, I told her I'd be there."

"But Stella," Anna wails. "Why?

you hate parties! You hate Nicole too!"

I frown. "I never said I hated her...just, strongly dislike."

"Stella, please," Anna says. "Don't go, I don't like the sound of things. It seems wrong, and your parents will never let you go." I considered this. The reason I was going was to displease. And who would be most displeased by me attending a full-on high school party? My parents. I would sneak out, go party, and when I get back I'll tell my parents what I did and I'll bathe in their look of displeasure.

"My parents won't be a problem," I reply simply. Anna sighed - maybe I wasn't so bad at displeasing people - and jumped of the car. She glances down at he phone.

"Class starts in three minutes, we better get going." Anna starts to walk off, but then turns back to me. "Unless your planning on making your teachers unhappy as well." The sarcastic tone in her voice was hard to miss and I winced. Why does the have to be like this? So much for best friend.

"Yes, oh Great Criticizer!" I exclaim. "Would you like me to fall to the ground and kiss your feet as well?"

"Get to class," Anna scoffs. So I do.

~~~

World History: My last class of the day.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I plopped down into my seat beside Cara Kettlebomb, a fellow nerd - who always smelt like hotdog water. I dug through my bag and pulled out my notes from yesterday and a sharp pencil and sat, legs crossed as I waited for class to begin. Just as I started scrawling something onto my paper, the bell rang, and Mr. Small made an announcement:

"So, here today we have a new student! Welcome to Lincoln Bay High School, Felix!" Mr. Small squealed dramatically. "Class, this is Felix Jon; Felix this is your world history class."

I pushed my glasses up my nose and took this "Felix" character in. He was tall, maybe 6'4, and he had pale skin that contrasted sharply against his sandy colored hair - which was cropped short everywhere but his bags. I squinted to see his eye color, but his sandy bangs his them from view.

"Felix," Mr. Small says excitedly, clasping his hands together. "Take a seat next to...Tyler Jones. Right up here in front." Poor Felix, I felt sorry for every new kid in Mr. Small's classes; Mr. Small was one of those happy-go-lucky type of guys. He always made a fuss over every new comer.

However, Felix surprised me when he plopped down in his chair, turned slowly in his seat, and winked at me. Me.