Teen Angst with a Body Count
You want to be accepted. No-one actually likes standing out. Being different. Isolation is no way to get through high school. You want a label. You want a clique. Somewhere in that school canteen you want to sit with a group. But where?
In the first few weeks of my new school, my seat was in the bathroom. See, I'm not arty enough for the artists. I'm not sporty enough for the jocks. I'm only an average grade student. I can't even play the triangle.
But apparently I'm pretty enough for the most popular clique of all. The Hayleys.
Three smooth skinned seniors with tailor fitted clothes and flawless makeup. They invited me. I accepted. It's never mattered that my name isn't Hayley.
Thinking back, I really should have been cool with being alone.
Hayley Okonedo applies my makeup. She's the leader. Corkscrew black hair. Light brown eyes. Can wrap anyone around her finger.
"Perfect. You're perfect," she says with a toothy smile. "Ready for the party?"
I glance at the mirror. Why do I bother? Not like I can see a reflection.
I quenched my thirst for acceptance. Now I have a different thirst to quench.
A/N: Credit to Heathers for inspiring this vignette. Teen identity angst with a side of fanged mean girls. ;)