And so was Dylan. It was completely unrequited, but my fascination was completely real. Becca said I had a picture painted of him in my mind, but even if I did, it had basis in real life that she couldn't and wouldn't understand. He and his friends were just so interesting; calm, collected, attractive, confident, and smart. They had everything I wanted, and the fact that all of the things I wanted for myself were amalgamated into twelve people had drawn me in an instant.

"Are you okay, Venia," Becca asked, tapping my shoulder. I turned to face her, my eyes meeting her distinct tan skin, smooth black hair, and rich brown eyes. She was beautiful, her features all complimenting each other and it made sense why she was somewhat popular ― she was naturally charming. Had she not been at odds with Amy Watts, she could probably be in the top ten.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, swiftly disregarding her concerns so that she wouldn't waste any time being worried about me. I couldn't be that selfish.

"I know you're giving Dylan Parker that 'let's hop into bed' look," she said without missing a beat. "And I'm sure Veronica can see it from all the way back at her house."

I rolled my eyes to mask the wistful pang of guilt that I felt because we were experiencing this without Veronica here. Of course, we weren't going to force her out of the house since she had anxiety issues about events like these. But there was always that blank space between us without her presence. Becca either didn't notice it, or at least she did a good job of keeping to herself about Veronica's introversion because out of the three of us, she was an extrovert and she could only be sympathetic to her plight.

Dylan and the cheerleaders began to do jumping jacks that ended in them dropping to the floor for a push up and I had no idea what the routine was called besides hot. When they apparently finished ― for they were getting off of the ground and into a standing position, brushing off their skirts ― he began to chant something about kicking ass that I'm sure would make the teaching supervisors blush. But it only made me smile, a reassurance that Dylan was every bit as charming and courageous as I thought him to be.

Sitting for so long had made me sore and have to use the bathroom, hence why I took the bleachers steps down two at a time to get to the bathroom. My older brother had told me to avoid places such as these when the night was at its prime and so were creepy guys unless I was using the buddy system. A lot of bad things almost happened to girls when there were sleepovers at the school ― things that could've gotten the sleepovers cancelled for an eternity.

But tonight, apparently, that wouldn't be the case. I came upon this fact when I neared the small brick building that read 'women' on it, where four suits of armor were stationed. There were many different costumes for many different clubs out tonight, but none of them were as striking as those worn by leading members of the feminist club. Because it wasn't everyday that you see a highschool girl ― or a highschool student period ― wearing a full blown, iron suit of armor, adorned with a crest baring the insignia of their organization.

But these four girls didn't seem to be celebrating like other clubs that were playing games on the lawn or sitting on the bleachers and watching the boys do some cheer squad routines before the actual cheerleaders came out in football gear, splitting up into two teams for the scrimmage.

No, these girls were standing outside to make sure no more boys crept into the female bathroom.

"Hello, ladies," I said kindly to subtly thank them for their hard work. "How are you this night?"

Together, they began to lift up their visors and reveal their faces. To say I was surprised was an understatement. After all, I never guessed that Janelle Richards, Noelle Parks, Ramona Stacey, and Amy Watts were the leaders of the feminist club ― it was fairly new, only a month old and I hadn't had time to check it out.

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