Then It Hits Me

Chapter 2: Teenage Girls Are Rebellious

"What about Ella? We're friends."

Carter scoffs, "There is a fine line between friends and people who just hang out with each other. You and Ella only talk in school and dance class. She never comes over, you two never do anything together, and you act as if she's an embarrassment."

You know twin telepathy, right? Too bad you can't use it to send messages because I'd have a ten page letter typed out on how mean he is and ready to be sent to him. I guess I'll just have to use e-mail.

When I tell people about the 'punishment', they will be green with envy. Omigosh! The super sexy beast, Miller will be at your house on Saturday mornings? I'm so going to be there! They'll think of it as more of an opportunity to make a move on him, instead of something that I just want to forget. I don't really care if they come to my house because it's not like I'm actually going to try to get him to like me. What probably is going to happen is that I'm going to lock myself in my room while he is downstairs, watching TV.

Miller, on the other hand, must be feeling like poop. Not only does he have to drive me home everyday, he also has to spend five hours a week with me. If I were Ella, he'd be delighted. Ella has the charm and looks to be a regular boy magnet, whereas I have about as much charm as a pig. Don't even get me started about my curve-less body. Miller Woods only cares for himself and hot girls.

After an hour, I am finally released from the nurse's office. My dad swings his arm over my shoulder and keeps me close to his side. I rest my head on his shoulder and smile at the warmness. No wonder mom picked him. Dad is not overly handsome, or at least not as handsome as Miller, and he isn't the jock type that girls as pretty as mom go for. I used to wonder why mom picked him out of all the boys that were begging at her feet, but I just recently found out. It's because of how he treated her and still treats her. Like a queen.

I always wanted to be like mom and not have to worry about which boys like me because mom has always had this sunshine that made her a boy magnet. I guess that magnet just hasn't transferred to me because boys hardly ever talk to me, unless it is to ask for a pencil. Mom was student body president, like Carter is, and I know she wanted her daughter, not son, to follow her footsteps. I'm pretty much a disappointment in her eyes, though she will never admit it.

"How are you feeling, honey?" Dad's warm breath is against the top of my head.

I muster and lift my head up to smile at dad, "Horrible, but getting better."

Dad may not have all the looks, but he sure has the eyes. They are the same colour the sky that I am always looking at. My eyes are blue too, but a duller, less vibrant shade. I wish I had gotten Carter's chocolatey brown ones.

Dad chuckles lightheartedly, "You're lucky to be hanging out with such a pretty boy like Miller. If you were just about any other girl, you'd be swooning."

"Unfortunately, I'm not. I will never swoon over that thing," I tell him with truth.

"That's what they all say."

The Monday at school, everyone has already heard of my concussion and they know that Miller is the one who caused it. They should be mad at him for hurting a girl, but instead, he becomes a 'super hot bad boy'.

"Are you okay?" Ella wraps her arms around me. Her blonde curls fly all over my face and I have to purse my lips to make sure they don't fly into my mouth because that would be disgusting.

It's only the beginning f the day and I already have people whispering about me. The more popular gossipers are all huddled in their usual 'Gossip 101' corner dicussing how I am a charity case and how I probably got hit with the football on purpose, just so I coluld spend time with Miller. Those girls talk really loudly, forcing the people around them to hear bits and peices of what they're saying. By luch time, the gossip spreads and everone is harrassing me about be a boy-hogger. I thought people knew me well enough to know that I take no interest in boys who have a fantasy with which they are the king.

I take a look at the food in the cafeteria. They have the usual salad, sandwiches, and macaroni and cheese. Today's special is spaghetti, which is just about my favourite food in the world. "Does the spaghetti have cheese in it?" I give the luch lady a glance.

"Parmesan," She prepares to scoop some into a bowl for me, when I stop her.

"I'm lactose intolerant," I huffed.

A few girls in line behind me, snicker at my 'problem'. Being lactose intolerant is very common. Whenever I eat things that come from milk, it makes my eyes get watery and my arms get itchy, which eventually forms a rash. Not a very pleasant sight.

The lunch lady looks at me sadly, "That's too bad. I guess you can't eat the macaroni and cheese either. What about a nice salad?"

I nodded and she made a delicious looking bowl of salad for me. I went to sit down at my usual spot, the spot right next to the garbage and two tables away from 'The Gossipers'. I sit alone at lunch because Ella doesn't have luch the same period I do. Ella is also friends with 'The Populars' so she sits at their table during her lunch. No one screams 'loner' more than I do.

"Look at Caitlin. Now she's eating salad? Ugh. It's obvious that she's trying to get all healthy to impress Miller. God, she's a bitch," A brunette girl from 'The Gossipers' tells her friends with a small smirk.

I cringe, but force myself not to look affected. I've never had a huge group of friends ever in my life. There are people who are extremely nice to me at first, but then I find out that my mom is paying them to be friends with me. It happened twice in freshman year and once in junior. Mom is too involved in my life and I think she needs to stop trying to make me a social butterfly like she was because that is never going to happen. Let me repeat: never.

A red-head from the group pipes in with her phone in hand, "Look at this. The hashtag 'CaitThebitch' is trending on Instagram and Twitter, well as close to trending as this school has ever gotten to." 'The Gossipers' pile around the red-head and look at what is on the screen of her phone.

#CaitTheBitch is TRENDING?

All I did was get hurt by a football thrown by Miller Woods and a hashtag calling me a bitch is trending around the school? This school may be filled with nearly a thousand mean people, but could they stoop down this low?

"Say cheese!" 'The Gossipers' all drawled in sync. I spin my head around and see a bright light flash into my eyes. They did not just take a picture.

The red-head girl taps her phone twice, "Hashtag CaitTheBitch. Tweet."

The whole cafeteria is looking at me right now, expecting me to attack her. Of course, I don't. I sit there with my hands gripping onto each other in my lap and my eyes focused on my salad. If I have a reaction, 'The Gossipers' have officially won and I will not give them that satisfaction of knowing they hurt me.

Once everyone realized that I wasn't going to kill anyone anytime soon, they returned back to their own pathetic lives. I finally let the first of many tears slide down my face. My hands wipe my eyes madly, trying to prevent anyone from seeing me cry.

Mom was right, teenage girls are rebellious...

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