Robbo!
11-07-2009, 07:50 AM
I
She was the most beautiful girl in school. And she hated me. It doesn't make sense, because I'm the most handsome boy in school. Every girl on the cheer-leading squad has made it with me; it's basically a requirement for being on it. But it makes sense that she hates me if you know the story between us. And you will, in time.
It all happened at the beginning of this school year. This is May, and it started in September, at Ricky's birthday party. Ricky is my best friend, and the star running back on our state champion football team. He threw the sickest party, as he was turning 18, and his parents didn't give a damn. Most of the coolest kids' parents don't seem to care too much about what their kids do. In fact, Ricky's parents gave us beer at his party. Of course, they weren't completely irresponsible; in order to get a drink, you had to give them your car key. A small price for a good time.
Her name is Kara. She is Miss Teen Centreville. She is 5'6" and blonde. She has a magnificent tan from going to the tanning bed, as I found out that winter. She had that perfect figure, where her boobs were firm and big, but not obnoxious, and her butt made you love to watch her leave, making it worse to see her go.
The party was going well. The parents had the radio tuned to the local hip-hop station, and it was playing the song of the year: Hollaback Girl. I had been flirting with Kara all night long, and she returned the favor with apparent interest while dancing with me. The song ended, and she stopped dancing with her lips hovering a hairsbreadth away from mine.
After a moment, I was aware of the situation. Then I was aware of the number of people around me. It wouldn't have been awkward to kiss her or anything; everyone I've talked to admitted that Kara and I would look good together. No, I'm not an athletic star or anything, but I am considered one of the most handsome men in school, and I'm president of the student government, after being voted homecoming prince sophomore and junior years.
Kara and I both belonged in that upper echelon, the supreme clique everyone wants to be in. We were among that list of ten names you see again and again in popular school events: the most popular kids. We belonged together. It was obvious.
But the song had ended and we were about to kiss with everyone standing around, staring. They were staring because someone had turned the lights on. If that hadn't happened, the lights would still be off, they would still be dancing, and I would have kissed the hottest girl in school. Frank's mom had come downstairs to announce that cake was being served.
Singing "Happy Birthday" may be a childish and humiliating ritual in order to receive cake, but we decided it was worth it, and everyone joined in. Frank blew out the candles and his mother cut the cake. Soon after this, Frank opened the few presents given to him at the party, and those kids who barely were cool enough left. The booze had yet to be cracked open, and they could retain their innocence while claiming they went to the hottest party of the year.
By midnight (curfew for most), twenty people remained of the eighty who were dancing it up when the night began.
And what I would do with these nineteen other people set up a chain of events that would turn Kara from nearly kissing me to nearly killing me.
She was the most beautiful girl in school. And she hated me. It doesn't make sense, because I'm the most handsome boy in school. Every girl on the cheer-leading squad has made it with me; it's basically a requirement for being on it. But it makes sense that she hates me if you know the story between us. And you will, in time.
It all happened at the beginning of this school year. This is May, and it started in September, at Ricky's birthday party. Ricky is my best friend, and the star running back on our state champion football team. He threw the sickest party, as he was turning 18, and his parents didn't give a damn. Most of the coolest kids' parents don't seem to care too much about what their kids do. In fact, Ricky's parents gave us beer at his party. Of course, they weren't completely irresponsible; in order to get a drink, you had to give them your car key. A small price for a good time.
Her name is Kara. She is Miss Teen Centreville. She is 5'6" and blonde. She has a magnificent tan from going to the tanning bed, as I found out that winter. She had that perfect figure, where her boobs were firm and big, but not obnoxious, and her butt made you love to watch her leave, making it worse to see her go.
The party was going well. The parents had the radio tuned to the local hip-hop station, and it was playing the song of the year: Hollaback Girl. I had been flirting with Kara all night long, and she returned the favor with apparent interest while dancing with me. The song ended, and she stopped dancing with her lips hovering a hairsbreadth away from mine.
After a moment, I was aware of the situation. Then I was aware of the number of people around me. It wouldn't have been awkward to kiss her or anything; everyone I've talked to admitted that Kara and I would look good together. No, I'm not an athletic star or anything, but I am considered one of the most handsome men in school, and I'm president of the student government, after being voted homecoming prince sophomore and junior years.
Kara and I both belonged in that upper echelon, the supreme clique everyone wants to be in. We were among that list of ten names you see again and again in popular school events: the most popular kids. We belonged together. It was obvious.
But the song had ended and we were about to kiss with everyone standing around, staring. They were staring because someone had turned the lights on. If that hadn't happened, the lights would still be off, they would still be dancing, and I would have kissed the hottest girl in school. Frank's mom had come downstairs to announce that cake was being served.
Singing "Happy Birthday" may be a childish and humiliating ritual in order to receive cake, but we decided it was worth it, and everyone joined in. Frank blew out the candles and his mother cut the cake. Soon after this, Frank opened the few presents given to him at the party, and those kids who barely were cool enough left. The booze had yet to be cracked open, and they could retain their innocence while claiming they went to the hottest party of the year.
By midnight (curfew for most), twenty people remained of the eighty who were dancing it up when the night began.
And what I would do with these nineteen other people set up a chain of events that would turn Kara from nearly kissing me to nearly killing me.