Some say change is a good thing.
Whoever those 'some' happen to be, I'd like to take that phrase and shove it right back up their ass.
Saying that change is supposedly good, is like ordering a plate of Chinese food versus a bowl; the idea sounds good, but in the end you're too full and you waste money. Change sounds good, but the word is mostly sugar coated.
It shouldn't be legal to up and move, but unfortunately it is. According to my mom anyways.
One minute, I'm shopping for prom dresses, the next I'm informed that the boxes are on their way and we are driving halfway across the continental U.S. for a job transfer.
Scratch that, life transfer.
Los Angeles, California, has been my life for the past seventeen years. My teams, classmates, social status, friends, even climate, everything was more perfect than the heart shaped chocolates my boyfriend gave me on Valentine's Day.
But, hence the move, make that ex-boyfriend, cold New Jersey weather, what social status, and zero friends. What a joy my life has become.
And so, here I am, Alexis Anderson, entering my new life.
Well, not exactly yet.
-
"Mom," I stretch out the word, yawning, and probably looking like a giant assed hippo while doing so, "How much longer until the next stop?"
She glances down at the stereo, "Alexis, it hasn't even been two hours since the last time you asked, and you know the answer. The next stop is in Chicago, Illinois."
I sigh, moaning into my pillow as I flop my head down on it.
"It won't be that bad," She reassures me, "I've spoken to the school counselor, he referred multiple students that would be interested in showing you around." A faint smile traces her lips.
I try to show an expression somewhat of enthusiasm. My eyes flick up to the mirror hanging from the fold down flap on the car. Ouch. It looked like a twisted fake smile, faker than that one celebrity that has more plastic than face.
I wasn't the most popular at my last school, but I had some rank. And I was not about to blow any chance of possible friends at this school, by befriending some loser interested in recruiting me to mathletes.
"Mhm, sure." I respond.
"Alexis, honey, the building is beautiful. In fact, our apartment has two master bedrooms and a guest room. Think of the parties you could host with your new friends!"
I honestly think she's more excited than I am.
Hours pass and we make casual small talk whilst cruising through state boundaries and county highways.
As time passes, my mind wanders to my old school. Old life.
It was a dream, I had the perfect best friend, and I fell in love with him. He was the next door neighbor type of boy and I had to ruin it.
I mean, it wasn't entirely my fault. But I could see why he'd want to leave me after.
Finally we arrive at the hotel. I drag myself out of our little red car. The bottom is fairly rusted, the red fibers dyed a dull brown color. I slam the door shut, after grabbing my small lavender bag labeled 'travel clothes.'
So here's my life, for the past week.
Why we didn't take a plane? Don't ask me. Wasn't my idea to run around the country like a two person Brady Bunch.
I sling my bag over my shoulder and follow my mom inside. We check into our room and watch T.V., eat room serviced ice cream, and then fall asleep.
The next day could've been a twin of today. And not just twins, identical.
Long car rides in my family consist of my mom driving, and me switching back and forth between the same five apps over a course of, let me think, the whole freaking day.
-
At last, we arrived. Shivers rolled down my spine and sept into every vein in my body. I'm dressed in typical Californian clothes.
Sadly, denim shorts and comfy graphic tees wouldn't cut it here.
The cold air hit me like a fricking giant assed truck.
Excuse the language. The freezing attic air particles seeping into my skin do weird things to me.
"Alexis, would you grab that bag? Yeah that one." My mom instructs before grabbing a bag herself and slinging it around one shoulder.
"So you're the new people huh?" A voice calls out from across the iced parking lot.
I glance up. It belongs to a girl, a very pretty one at that. She stands with her gloved hands in her pockets and a warm sweater slung across her narrow shoulders, "Need any help?" She questions, flashing a sparking smile, "My name is Elle Jansen. I live in 10B here. The owner of this place told me we were getting new people. I'm sure you'll like it here."
"Why don't you two go along and get some of the beds made? I've got the rest of these." My mom gestures for us to go.
I shiver, taking quick paced steps towards the door the giant apartment complex, "My name is Lexa Anderson. Well, really it's Alexis, but no one ever calls me that besides my mother." I let out a throaty chuckle.
"Nice to meet you then Lexa." Elle pushes a button that must call the elevator, "What school are you going to go to?"
"Pentingswood high school. A senior. You?" I look towards Elle before stepping into the elevator.
"Me too! Hey, maybe we can ride to school together! That's so cool, I don't have any other friends in this place that go there. Most travel thirty some miles a day to go to fancy prep schools. Which floor?"
"6A." I respond.
"You're the only ones on that floor. 6B hasn't been bought in years. Quite the place to sneak parties in though. As long as the owner doesn't catch us," Her eyes practically sparkle with excitement.
The elevator gets to the sixth floor and we step out, lugging the heavy bags behind us.
I approach a sturdy sophisticated looking door, with rectangle grooves in it, and funky indents towards the top and bottom. After sliding the key in and twisting the knob, the door opens.
The apartment inside is stunning. Straight from the entry way is a huge wooden framed window with a violet windowseat. A brick wall surrounds it, and complete with the wooden vinyl floors, white shag rugs, purple throw blankets and white couches, the room gave off a country cottage type aura.
I mean, I knew the apartment was said to be furnished already, but this? It was so good, the only thing that would make it better would be to have smoking hot male models grinding on the shag rugs. But we can't all have what we want, now can we? This place was close enough.
I turn and see the door crack open behind me. The sight nearly takes my breath away.
Okay, the rug grinding thing was a daydream. I knew it, I knew I must be psychic.
"Parker!" Elle yells at the boy, "What are you even doing on this floor?"
The boy looks up towards her, his dark brown hair falling across his forehead, a small tendril covering his emerald green eyes, "I was just, um." He blushes scarlet.
Elle glances back towards him, "Just what?"
And the next thing I know, this Parker guy, who could basically model, is over by the brick wall and sliding out a brick. He reaches his toned arm into the hole and pulls out a handful of something.
"You're disgusting!" Elle yells at him.
Only then did I see what they were. In Parker's tightly closed wrist were multiple packages of individually wrapped condoms. Unused, thankfully.
"You know you love me." He winks at Elle.
She makes a disgusted face, and I can't help but chuckle.
You never would've gotten him anyways Lexa.
And definitely not with a girl like Elle around.
I guess I could consider myself pretty but not the kind of pretty that walks up to you and slaps you in the face, more like the subtle kind. The 'honey you're perfect and really beautiful' kind that your parents tell you.
I consider calling my looks basic. Average height, average weight (nope, I'm not one of those typical cliche skinny characters that are petite and embarrassed of it. I, for one, enjoy eating cheeseburgers), average blondish, brownish locks that fall halfway down my back, and basic poop brown eyes.
Clearly this Parker guy was too busy eyeing up Elle.
She glares at him once again before he leaves us to the beautiful apartment.
I decide not to press her about him. We did just meet in fact.
"So, Lexa, thoughts on Pentingswood yet?"
I chuckle, "It's like adjusting from bikini season to a night in Siberia."
She glances at my short high waisted shorts and thin top, and let's out a small laugh as she smoothed her skinny jeans, "Yeah, sadly it's not always that hot here. Your mom mentioned you were from Cali? Quite the difference."
I nod, "For one, here you don't have to be a hot, beach blonde surfer tramping around in a skimpy bikini to get a guy."
Elle smirks, "None of that will happen here, I can hook you up with a guy at school!" She breaks into a mischievous smile, "Hmm."
I mentally groan, "Actually-"
"I can just see it all now! You'll meet and every night sneak out into 6B and kiss and be all cute and shit, and you'll probably be featured on one of those couple goals pages that everyone follows." She rambles on and on about my nonexistent relationship status. I zone out after a while, simply lost in my thoughts of it all. The apartment, the move, the hot male models grinding on the rug, shit, no not that. Don't think about that.
"So, what do you think?" Elle grins.
I scratch the back of my head and turn towards her, "About what?"
She moans, "Hooking you up with a guy. Same thing I've been talking about for the past five minutes."
"Elle, I really don't want to be hooking up with a-"
"Omigod, I'm so sorry, are you gay?" She rambles, "I support it, yay equality and shit, sorry for jumping to conclusions it's just that-"
"No, no!" I laugh, "Elle I like guys. Just not interested in hooking up with them AT THE MOMENT."
"Ohhh." She laughs, "Well good, because I already mentally selected a few candidates and if you liked girls I wouldn't know their scores."
"Scores?"
"How they rank, in terms of different things, of course." She looks at me like I'm a kindergartner asking what kindergarten is.
"Like Parker, the guy that barged in here earlier, he's a gold. Personally I don't see it, but he's one of the girl magnets at our school. Stupid sluts stick to him like they're glued there."
I nod my head pretending to understand whatever the hell she's saying about gold.
"It's weird, but you'll get used to it. The competitivity of girls at our school is like way up here," She raises her hand far above her head.
Great.
"But it still should be simple to find you someone. You have nice hair, if you'd pull it back maybe." She basically looks me over, probably mentally criticing, "Oh and you're style is good too, but those shoes." She fake winces. Make that mentally and vocally criticing.
I grin, "You make friends with me, you make friends with my vans. They're my favorites."
Elle rolls her eyes at me, "Tomorrow we're going shopping."
I smile at my new friend and she smiles back. And then I know, I can feel it.
This will work.
And it will all be okay.