How to Be Cliche (A Novel)

(14) Fruit Loops

"That's what you are?" I leaned forward on my desk, covering my mouth so that I didn't look like I was talking to myself. In doing so, I probably looked like even more of a lunatic. "My conscious? I thought I just had a hyper imagination."

Well, duh I'm your conscious. Where the hell have you been the past 18 years, girl? If it wasn't for me, you'd be on 16 and Pregnant right now or work at Toys R' Us for the rest of your life. Pu to-the lease.

"Holy....you actually responded to me. This is so cool. Can you like, do my homework and stuff? AP Bio homework will be the death of me. And where were you when Aunt Mia asked me to scratch her mole last Christmas?"

Bitch, please. As if I do homework. You would have had to touch that monstrous thing some time, whether it crawled off her face and forced you to or not. I didn't even get my Bachelor's degree in this, I was just hired off the street. By the way, I think now is a really good time to pay attention in class, things are getting really...interesting. Good lord, good lord with jimmies on top, douse him. DOUSE HIM WATER UNTIL THOSE PRETTY BUNS ARE OUTLINED, MY SISTAAA!

"Pepper Ballard, is there something else you want to share with the class? This whole talking to yourself thing is becoming a daily thing."

I lifted my head up and met a pair of narrowing Caribbean blue eyes and plump male lips that continued to move with words that I had no interest in hearing. "Some of us have an imagination and aren't narrow minded," I replied coolly, matching his arched brow.

Sin flashed me a smile that -- excuse the terrible irony-- was absolutely sinful. "You are definitely one of a kind, Pepper," he said.

I was brought back to the morning after Sin had trespassed on my property during the young hours of the night. The day I slipped on a pair of high heels, galaxy leggings, and a white tunic with Marilyn Monroe on the front with an assortment of jewelry, and applied my makeup and frizzy gel into my curly hair precisely as the salon had, then presented my new makeover in broad daylight and walked late into class for the second day in a roll like I owned the place, was the day that Sin Trindad had been star struck beyond belief. I'd never forget the quick once over he had given me and small masculine heat of approval that flashed in his eyes before he said, "Can't wait to have you after class numbering each summer reading book return in the school for being late again, Miss Ballard."

My Arch Nemesis totally wanted the P.

"Miss Ballard?"

I snapped out of my flashback and almost fell over in my seat. "Oh, um. Yeah."

"Yeah?" Sin paused for a moment. I realized then that he was debating whether to rip me to shreds like he did to Danny Herbert from period 5 who apparently, or at least rumor has it, used to have Trinidad period 5 for Creative Writing but "accidently" soiled himself when Trinidad lectured him about capitalizing names.

I believed it.

"'Yes' is what you mean, Miss Ballard," Trinidad continued. "'Yes,' is the proper way to answer your superiors, especially in this class. This is considered an English course, after all."

I couldn't help but be taken aback by his nasty tone. "No, I definitely meant yeah, Mr. Trinidad. This is a free country and I'm speaking verbally, after all. Slang and variations of 'yes' are now a part of our culture."

"Isn't today your birthday?" Mr. Trinidad leaned lightly against my desk, crossing his arms against his chest and staring down at me as if I was the only person in the room. " I saw a little cupcake with a candle in it next to your name on my computer today when I was taking attendance."

"Uh...that was random. Yeah, it is. I'm eighteen."

"So you're an adult then, Miss Ballard?"

I frowned, slowly unraveling where this was going. "Yes..."