Forward

Chapter 1

Why must the world of 20 and above have the opinions stated as facts. Why must we teenagers have to be cleansed from our different paths of creativity to form one lane that we must stick with the rest of our lives. Why must we be told to stay in school, don't do drugs, get rid of the negative friends and replace them with the positive ones as if it is so easy. Why must we suffer to be good, yet labeled as demons for going against these so called "good actions". Why must adults say that there are no mistakes, just learning experiences, yet get yelled at when we accidently forget to take out the garbage. Why must we listen to just become disappointed and let down. I have so many questions yet the only people that can give a "serious" answer are the ones that say they've been through it all. Yet, they've never been through my all.

Coming from a perspective that tries there hardest, does what their told, and listens to so many lies, it is obvious that im missing out. No joint had ever touched my lips, no sip of alcohol has ever entered my system, and no C or below has ever been tasted by my report card. A perfect square is what can be described as me, yet let's see what happens when we untangle that square and make it a zig zag line of high ups, and very low downs.

Richard High school is where I've spent a whole 3 years and a half stressing about the holy development of society which is divided into my almost perfect transcript, and almost non-existent popularity. Don't get me wrong, I'm known among some, yet only just a name to many others. And im cool with that. I have three best friends, two of which are girls and one highly gay boy. Casey Williams is African American with these beautiful volumes' curls that just reach her shoulders and on this Friday, she is standing next to me in her very tight but flattering gold and black cheer uniform. Next to her is the bleach blonde Liz Cardel that is also in the same uniform as Casey, except she has the shining black and gold bow encasing a tight ponytail on the top of her head. Both girls have similar personalities such as they both party but there not nasty. Nasty meaning in this case, sluts, hoes, whores, or self-absorbed bitches with cars and boob jobs more expensive than 10 of my houses put together. Marc Danforth is highly gay, yet to the world, hes known as the loyal boyfriend to Liz and the star quarterback that has 5 missed calls from eager colleges on his cell phone every time he decides to check the time. That Marc is the world's Marc, yet Casey's, Liz, and I's Marc gives us fashion advice and helps us flirt with boys that we see way out of our league.

So on this very celebrated Friday of every week is the the school scheduled football game, yet this time, it's the last round of championships in which our undefeated record could be broken. Marc doesn't show it but from the occasionally lip bits and furrowed brows he's had the past 4 classes, it was obvious he was nervous. Marc and I's class schedules are basically exact duplicates with a once and a while "Hey Girlies" from Casey and Liz in-between classes and lunch.

It is highly mandatory that cheerleaders wear their uniforms and guys wear their Jerseys to school on game day, yet it is also tradition that a player on the team has to lend a girl their Jersey to wear on game day in school and at the game. In this case, its been me wearing Marcs #52 jersey because Liz always had to wear her cheer uniform and its been like that ever since freshmen year. Except freshmen year, ive never thought that a simple jersey could create a sentence with my name and the word whore in it at the exact same time. No one had known that Liz and Marc's 'relationship' was just a cover up, so by him giving me his jersey to wear, it signified and almost allowed people to feel the need to judge me for it. Which I found to be hilarious in the sense that everyone thought I was getting in-between a relationship that never existed. Yet 3 years later it seems that everyone has become used to it.

A swift pair of leggings with a long sleeve t-shirt underneath the over sized jersey was my regular attire for Fridays from 8 am to 12 pm. Which is exactly what im wearing on this Friday in my third period of the day next to the boy that was wearing the identical jersey next to me. Mr. Frizz was a pretty cool teacher and has always been known for his colorful patterned bow ties that popped out most to the average human eye. He was one of my favorite teachers yet he also taught physics, which had to be one of my most hated subjects. Except the way he taught, he made everything seem like common sense in the way no other teacher could. He was completely in love with the 10th grade English teacher Miss. Mayor with the colorful almost rainbow hair. She would always say that each month deserved a certain color. For example, last month she had her hair a burgundy and orange color to resemble the leaves of November fall. Yet this month, shes pulling off this shimmering silver with icy blue tips for the winter of December. Miss. Mayor is unlike Mr. Frizz in the way that she teaches strait from the the requirements. always staying in line and being as hard as a rock. Miss. Mayor also had a soft side though, and everyone with the ability of sight could tell that Mr. Frizz had a crush on her.

Marc and I have this theory that if Mr. Frizz would just ditch the bow tie and maybe go to the salon Miss. Mayor goes to get her hair done and get his own hair done. Like some purple frosted tips or something. Yet he denies his obvious crush on the woman over and over again. Whenever we try and bring up his soon to be relationship he always finds a way to turn the tables.

"I don't know what you guys are trying to say, but instead of worrying about my non existent relationship, how about you worry about your own. And Alexandra, how about you consider leaving me alone and working on getting a job so you can stop nagging your poor mom about taking hers."

 Like I said, Mr. Frizz is cool, except hes still an annoying uncle. Hes always on top of my grades and makes sure im always on track. My uncle is one of the best teachers I know, yet hes been through a lot ever since his wife Silvia left him when he couldn't afford the 3 million dollar house she wanted. Plus, she was a bitch anyway. He always had a place of love in his heart for her though, which I couldn't understand until one day when I asked him why he loved her, he said,

"Everyone has different sides to them, some may have many bad ones, except what people don't remember is that even if there are many bad sides, that doesn't mean that a person doesn't have a beautiful good side. You'll understand when you start dating someone."

And I did understand his point of perspective when I started dating my ex boyfriend John Halliger in the 10th grade. He was one of Marc's friends and the first time I saw him, I was love-struck. He was so irresistible to me as if he was what I needed. The first few months were the perfect honey moon stage. Calling and texting each other everywhere we went when we weren't together in the same place. It had to be considered unhealthy and obsessive yet that's how we felt. We craved each others present until things just began to go south like a undercover turning point. The love faded, and our perfect bubble just suddenly popped. Our ugly sides started to show and the worst part is it felt as if he almost loved his bad sides, his cheating, disloyal, manipulative sides. Except he wasn't a bad kid, he had decent grades, and respected for his parents which is anything a girl could ask for until that girl starts experiencing that side that the good grades don't reflect, and the parents don't endure.

We broke up September of senior year and we both made sure that the 2-year relationship became buried. No one talked about it and it was almost like the whole thing never happened which I am perfectly okay with.

So as I sit in this seat listening intently on my uncle drilling Quantum Physics into the minds of many students who could care less such as my own, I cant help but look out the window to a sight that has met all stereotypes. Never mind. He is the king of stereotypes.