I don't think it's physically possible for me to be less excited for my senior year. Well actually, I am excited. Excited to soon be done with the torture that we call high school.
One more year... I think to myself. One more year until college. One more year until I'm free.
With that thought in mind, I stride toward the door of my very own personal hell, also known as Truman-Irving High School. I constantly wonder what incredibly immature, yet brilliant, creative genius thought of that name. I mean really, it had to be on purpose. The students nicknamed the school SHIT, for obvious reasons.
I guess I'm over exaggerating how horrible high school is just a little bit. I have it better than most. Being pretty and a cheerleader automatically made me popular. Although there were some perks, I hate all the assumptions people make about me. Apparently because I'm blonde, good-looking, and popular, I'm also an airhead bitch.
The other thing I hate is being a main target of rumors. Although some aren't as malicious as others, most are complete lies or exaggerations of the truth.
Due to my popularity and the rumors, many people think they know me before they have even met me. My reputation precedes me, and while it's not the worst reputation, it certainly isn't the best either.
As I walk down the hall, greeting the people I like and ignoring the people I don't, I hear a catcall from a boy I don't recognize.
"Hey Malibu Barbie! Can I be your Ken doll and visit your dreamhouse so we can have some fun?" I glare at him.
"No, but you can go to hell!" I retort. He shrugs and I don't look back to see if he does anything else.
Suddenly I hear a squeal and look to the right to see my best friend Celia. I run towards her and tackle-hug her. We both end up falling and I crack up, not caring if passers-by judge me. As we get to our feet, I hug her again.
"It's so good to see you! I've missed you soo much!" I screech, hugging her again. She rolls her eyes and laughs at me.
"Lilah, we hung out literally yesterday," she reminds me.
"Yeah, but I've missed you since then," I protest. "Twelve hours is too long for us to be parted!" I exclaim dramatically. She just rolls her eyes again.
"You know they're gonna get stuck like that," I tell her. She rolls her eyes at me a third time. Un-fucking-believable. Whatever. She'll wish she had listened to me when her eyes get stuck.
Our dramatic reunion drew the attention of those around us, and I inwardly groan as I see the rest of our friend group, AKA all the cheerleaders, gather around us. Some of them are pretty nice, but others aren't, and they all follow me around. Seriously. It gets annoying. Some of them don't even like me, but they still pretend to and follow me around. I think one or two of them are even scared of me, for some reason.
So, with my best friend by my side, and our posse surrounding us, I head off to first period.
YOU ARE READING
Pretty DumbTeen Fiction
Lilah Green. Ask anyone, and they will tell you that she is the cliche gorgeous popular dumb airhead bitch. Dylan Mitchell. Ask anyone, and they will tell you that he is the cliche hot douchebag player. But what if they were both more than their st...