Streetwise

Whether or not a girl can be popular is judged on three things:

Hair length, How many boys you've 'pulled' (kissed), and how much you swear.

Whether or not a boy can be popular is judged on three things:

How tall you are, how many girls you've 'pulled', and how much you swear.

So when it comes to me, Jennifer, I'm not popular. Not at all. For me, popular is like a valuable artefact. You can look, but you can't touch. To be thought of as a popular girl, you need those three things. Hair, kisses, and swearing. My hair is short, and dark brown. It comes to just below my ears, and is frizzy, thick and has no 'bounce' or 'style' at all. I haven't 'pulled' any boys. These lips are completely and utterly untouched by anyone not related to me. And I don't swear. It's...weird. You hear all the popular girls and boys swearing after every word, and giving rude gestures to everyone who walks past. It's kind of sad though, isn't it? Having to be cool through swearing. If I swore, I would probably start crying out of guilt. So being popular is basically out of the question. Well, I thought it was. Until yesterday.

"Jen! Jennifer! Wait the f**k up!" I heard a high-pitched squeal from behind me. I didn't turn around, because I didn't expect it to be for me. But Emma, who I had just been talking to, was suddenly pushed out of the way, and a strong smell of lavender overcame me. I started coughing, as I stared at the girl in front of me, who was grinning at me, showing off her perfect teeth. It was Rachel, the most prettiest, popular, foul mouthed girl in the whole school. "Jennifer! Did you not, like, hear me?" She laughed, linking arms with me as if we had been best friends forever. I looked at Emma, who had recovered from being pushed away, and gave her the look of complete confusion.

"Um...no, sorry." I replied warily.

"Well, I just wanted to give you this." Rachel said, handing me a small leaflet, before pushing past me again, only leaving behind the leaflet and her lavender smell. Emma linked arms with me, and we continued walking up the corridor.

"What was that about?" Emma said, raising her eyebrows. I shrugged.

"No idea." There was a pause, as we both stared at the folded over leaflet.

"Well?" Emma prompted. "Open the leaflet!" I quickly unfolded it, and we both stared at the neon pink paper.

HEY YOU! It read, at the top of the page.

YOU ARE INVITED TO MY AMAZING, FANTASTIC, CRAZY HOUSE PARTY! BRING FOOD, DRINKS (of any kind), SWEETS AND ANYTHING ELSE! BRING YOUR FRIENDS, AS MANY AS POSSIBLE!

AT: 1 JOHNSON HOUSE

TIME: 7pm UNTIL WHENEVER

WHEN: 14th JUNE

NO NEED TO RSVP, JUST GET YOUR A** OVER HEAR!

REMEMBER TO BRING FRIENDS, AND GET READY FOR THE BEST NIGHT OF YOUR LIFE!

RACHEL XX

Emma turns to me in shock. "You know what this means?" She whispers, and I shrug.

"It means that...Rachel doesn't know how to spell 'here'?" I suggest, pointing to the spelling error about 'getting my a** over there.'

"No, stupid!" Emma sighs. "It means that you are invited to a popular party! And it says bring your friends, so I'm invited to! We're going to a proper party, Jen!"

I give a wry smile, carefully folding up the invitation and slipping it into my pocket. "What's wrong?" Emma asks, squeezing my arm, as we turn the corridor into History.

"There's one massive problem, Emma. My Mum."