The Checklist

 “How about instead of watching me you watch your popcorn.” And that’s the Ellie I know so well and love. Shrugging, I bring three fingers to my mouth, kiss them, and bring them up for her date to see.

 I even add in a small whistle.

 “Isn’t that from The Hunger Games?” The guy asks before my sister grabs his arm and practically drags him out the door. If there is one thing my sister doesn’t like, It’s getting one upped.

 Turning around, I reach over for the black notebook I never let leave my sight. This baby right here is my everything. It’s like those silly stuff animals that kids carry around and never let leave their sights.

 Pulling my pen out of the spine, I flip over to a new blank page and write.

 Rule #222: Door means more.

Make sure any guy you date picks you up at the door.

If they don’t have enough decency to get their asses out of their car, they don’t deserve the pleasure of your company.

 Smiling, I start to doodle a little heart at the end of the rule when my cell-phone goes off next to me. Not even bothering to look, I press talk and lean it against my shoulder. Sadly, I’m still doodling the heart.

 “Hello?”

 “Let me guess, you’re writing in the Checklist.”

 I quickly close the notebook, shove my pen in the spine, and throw it on the cushion next to me. “No.” Atleast, I’m not anymore. My best friend, Madison, sighs over the line. The sigh says plenty.

 “You’re a bad liar.”

 “No I’m not.”

 “God,” She groans good naturally. “I can even tell when you are lying about lying.”  I pop a piece of popcorn into my mouth and look up at my show that’s still on pause.

 “Mads, is there a point to this phone call?” When it came to Madison, she was the kind of person to call for no reason at all but to just call and annoy.

 “Actuactually, yes.”

 I wait a few moments, waiting for her to tell me exactly why she called me, but when she says nothing I shake my head. One day I’m going to kill her. “Madison the reason please.”

 “Oh, right. Sorry, I was watching some guy walk across the street in a Jesus outfit. Anyways, we are going to a party tonight.”

 I can’t help but laugh. Besides the fact that the last party we went to was a disaster, Madison and I were totally not partying people. The last party we got invited to was  Madison’s great grandmothers ninety seven birthday party.

 It’s not because we're complete losers, we just don’t get noticed. And after three years of high school and not once getting invited to a party, you get used to it. Obviously Madison has a different idea.

 I can’t help but wonder if there’s a different reason behind why she wants to go to this one. Growing up, she was always the one who said not being on top was a privilege. Madison liked living unnoticed in the middle.

 So why she wants to change that the night before our senior year is beyond me.

 “A party?” I ask, still weary. Like I said, the last party we went too didn’t end well. It was eighth grade and I ended up puking all over Brittany Pierces hair.

 That was when Madison and I were relatively on the popular scale. But what I didn’t expect at an eighth grade sleepover was wine coolers. And all it did was ruin my way to the top.