Outcasts

[11]

"Great, the JV team is already a trainwreck." Kendall said. Kendall was a pretty girl, typically wearing nothing more than a t-shirt, jeans, and ankle-high converse. Of course, since we were at practice, instead she wore a blue and black t-shirt that she got last year with her name on the back, and her number, 18. Kendall's hair was a little bit longer than her shoulders, and ombred from dark brown to gold. Her nose was on the more narrow side and her face was slightly rounded, and her skin tone was a little back darker than ivory. "Hey, maybe people will mature and we'll all get along." Erika suggested. We all kind of glanced around at each other, trying to picture that ever happening. "Your optimism is....sweet." Megan said.

"And completely misplaced, but sweet." Lana added.

"You do realize we are talking about teenagers right?" Kendall said, "No, scratch that, people in general." I shrugged, not exactly disagreeing with her. We as a people had a thing for attracting drama. The only way to avoid is it to live under a rock. "She's got a point." I said. "People attract drama like honey attracts bees."

"You could at least try and be helpful, Kendall." Erika said, further stretching her legs. Kendall rolled her eyes, but continued stretching her forearms. Before we could continue our conversation, Coach's whistle rang in our ears. "Alright ladies, let's get to work."

After a long day of lacrosse practice I found myself sitting down, quite unladylike, at a table in the local cafe run by my stepmother, talking with Megan. It was hard to be captivated by her. She was just so...confident in herself. A confidence that could, quite literally, be the death of me. Megan took another sip of her hot chocolate and I did the same. We hadn't said a word to each other since we sat down, but it wasn't awkward. It was a comfortable silence full of a mutual understanding of peace as we sipped on our hot chocolate and occasionally chuckled at each other's cream mustaches.

"So, Malia." Megan said from out of the blue. I looked over my book, Thunderbird: The last of the Kwoli, and gazed at her serious and thoughtful expression. "Megan." I said, copying her questioning tone. Megan cleared her throat and seemed suddenly nervous and unsure. "I need help..." she said, dragging out the last word. I sat up straight, now completely and utterly interested. "With...." I asked, drawing at my words oh so carefully. "Uh...history. I'm failing and I need someone to study with. Tonight." she said, seemingly shrinking into her chair. I raised my eyebrow, somewhat suspicious of this unusual claim. It wasn't that big of a deal, but maybe for her it was. "Well, I don't have anything serious to do tonight, so, sure. I'll come over." I said.

Megan beamed, radiating a form of direct sunlight that Washington rarely saw. "Great!" she said, "I've got to go practice some archery with my dad. Target practice and all. See ya tonight, at 8!" Before I could respond she had already gleefully pranced out of the cafe, hot chocolate in hand, and was out across the street, and soon she had disappeared behind the corner.

Odd. I thought. I watched the rain race down the window beside me, no longer interested in my novel. The bell above the cafe door rang and in stepped Scott. Scott was an interesting subject to say the least. He always seemed so cool and collected, but at the same time there was some hidden rage. Seeing as I've only recently met him, I couldn't help but wonder if his rage was just his personality or because of his frustration with Rachel?

Without a word of warning, Scott humphed down into the seat Megan had just previously occupied and started furiously tapping his fingers on the table. "Are you okay?" I asked, placing a bookmark in my book and setting it down beside my empty plate. "Rachel." he said. Well, that answers my question. Taking a sip of my hot chocolate, I rolled my wrist, egging him to add some details. "Rachel is upset with me because I am sitting at a table with you." he said, exasperated. "A TABLE! She's such a hypocrite!"