Hanging With the Senior Boys

I

Claire was on a high again. She grabbed Serena and I's wrists, one in each of her hands, and yanked us forward.

"Come on guys!" she urged, "I wanna take it in before class!"

Still, we slowly trailed behind her, holding her back. She pulled harder, but it was useless. Two against one. She finally decided to let us go when we were about a quarter of the way through the parking lot.

"Fine, if you two wanna be buzzkills about it."

I turned my head to meet Serena's smirk. She rolled her eyes. I nodded in agreement. How did we ever get stuck with her?

"Claire sweetie," Serena said, looking back ahead at Claire, who'd already gotten about ten feet ahead, "we were just here last week for schedule preview day. It's not that big a deal, I promise."

She didn't turn back to reply, "This is different."

"How so exactly?" I chimed in.

"It just is!"

Serena and I laughed. Of course she couldn't have a real answer. She was just excited for the sake of being excited. Little did she know, it was the exact Freshman trope she vowed not to be apart of on the walk here. She was failing miserably.

"You guys are miserable," she huffed, "I hope there's some transfers so I can meet new friends."

"Please," Serena chuckled, "you know you love us."

"Besides, we're just trying to help. You're getting yourself all worked up for no reason at all."

"And if you ask me, it looks rather. . . freshman-y."

She stopped dead in her tracks. It was so quick, it was actually unsettling. Was this a movie?

"You can't be serious," I said, "Did that really make you. . ."

But then I saw it too. It was something much more freeze worthy.

A long pair of freshly-shaven, sun-kissed legs daintily emerged from the passenger seat of a white Ford Escape. The skin was oiled and soft, and her feet were wrapped in a pair of lavender pink slides. They had to be designer. Time seemed to slow down as we watched them float elegantly to the ground. The three of us were in hateful awe, mixed with a great deal of shock and disappointment.

"I know that whore's legs anywhere," Claire spat.

And just as predicted, when the door was shut, there stood a thin and stretched girl with gallons of golden blonde hair, Gucci sunglasses, panty length booty shorts, and a lavender silk crop top. She shook her hair loose, as if she had some fan-club watching her. The Wicked Witch of the North, South, East, and West. Terra for short. It was clear my prayer of making her disappear was ignored.

"Wasn't she supposed to go to St. Agatha?" Serena asked.

"Seems like it was just our luck that she really was too dumb to get in," I replied.

"I don't know, she's good at track, and their team could use the help. I bet they'd let her slide."

"She's good, but not that good."

"Lexi come on. I know you hate her, but you have to give credit where it's due. You guys are both amazing. And while you're a better sprinter, she's got the edge in hurdles."

"Not enough of an edge to get into St. Agatha it looks like."

"True."

"Who knows?" I said, "Maybe she's changed."

I was being more sarcastic than serious, but deep down I meant it fully. I'd be delusional if I thought it would happen however.

"When Hell freezes over," Claire said.