High school Pyramid

I just started writing and this is what came of it. the second page is my friend... the rest is me

                                    Prologue

The car door closed; the noise crashing onto my eardrums with the rude awakening of what was to come. How could I avoid it? It was too difficult to make it through another one of these nightmares. I had asked Sandra one too many times to stay home sick and by this point it was useless. She was my home and right now my legal parental guardian.
             No one seemed to care what I was going through or how I felt. The vague memories that filled my mind of my mother were always to be strong and not to let anyone tell you otherwise. She’d say ‘Christina… The games out there and it’s either play or get played. That simple.’ Never fully did I understand exactly what she meant. Young and naïve I would nod my head and look up at her with adoration in my eyes. That’s exactly what my efforts were; to be strong. Instead of battling conflict I would raise my head and walk away. This, however, didn’t seem to be proving useful in my current situation.
            Reaching for the metallic handle of the door I could feel my heart race. Thump. Thump. Thump. ‘Shut up you stupid beating heart. ‘I’ll be fine!’ I lied to myself. Swinging the doors open my vision was flooded with the many faces of those around me. My stomach dropped because it was more unsightly than the last time. The worries of who was looking at me echoed through my mind, louder and louder until it reached an intolerable decibel. I rubbed my temples and took the first step in, scanning my horizons. None of the Fab Five were in sight and although this provided me momentary relief I knew I was not safe yet.
            If only I could make it to my English class in time it would be possible to avoid them. I made my way through the danger- laden hallways that appeared in front of me as a meandering maze. Around one corner, and then another. Needing to make my way to the third floor caused butterflies to swarm angrily in my stomach. I was safe for right now, but then I saw her.
            Flicking her demonic curls out of her face she released a shrill high pitched laughter that caused my body to tremble, and my forehead to sweat. Stopping in my tracks I looked on in horror as my nails dug deeper and deeper into my skin. Her face turned and then the unthinkable happened. Her monstrous eyes locked onto mine, gazing with sweet satisfaction. She moved forwards with her half-cocked smile, step after step coming closer and closer. The lump in my throat began to bulge and I felt as though I would vomit right on the spot.  
            ‘Christina… Hi! How are you?’ She said with a smile, eyeing me up and down like a tiger picking its prey. My response came with a slow murmur as few words leaked through my lips.
            ‘Aw, and don’t you look so pretty today. Did they have a sale on used sheets at the Salvation army?’ Her lips curving into a smile as she picked at the blouse that covered my skinny frame. I was frozen, unable to say a word. My anxiety was running ramped. ‘Well it certainly makes you look pretty doesn’t it? Luckily for you I have to get to class, but you’ll be seeing me later.’ She skipped off happily.
            Miraculously I had made it through my first interaction with Mary Rodgers of the day unscathed. Maybe this day wasn’t turning out as badly as I thought it was going to. With that I continued to my English class where I sat happily for the next hour. Getting lost in Romeo and Juliet and letting my imagination hijack my thoughts I found peace. English was one of my favourite classes because I adored reading the words of great novelists like John Steinbeck, Shakespeare, and Edgar Alan Poe. The books provided me an escape from the fallbacks of my everyday life.
            BZZZZ.  The bell sounded and with it a renewed sense of my surroundings. Again I needed to enter the meandering maze of hallways that filled my heart with fear. Hesitating, I picked up my books and headed for the door until I found myself shoved aside by Alex Kramer.
            ‘Get out of the way Thrift Shop!’ he said with a laugh as he giggled onwards with his group of friends. My books had fallen and I stood there looking around. The other students went by exiting the classroom. My eyes met the stare of my English teacher who looked at me up and down.
            ‘Well! What are you waiting for? On to your next class. I have things to do!’ She said wiping down the chalk board.

            Making my way through the hallways the worst was yet to come. Finally I walked down all the stairs, crossed the cafeteria and turned the corner into the Computer room. Rebecca Stromberg shot me a quick glare turning back to her friends, continuing to talk and laugh. My phone vibrated and I looked down to read the message. It was Sandra
            ‘Christina. I’m sorry but we both know by now that this is not working out. I did what had to be done and called Children’s Aid…’ My eyes began to water as the beaded teardrop forced its way down my face. Quickly I wiped it away. The text message went on as I opened the second message. ‘It’s just too hard, and Brian and I feel it would be best that you returned to the shelter until you find a family better suited for you.’  I closed my phone and stared blankly at the wall. My heart dropped and my face contorted into the terrible arrangement of a chin quivering cry, but I fought it back. Pushing away my sadness I told myself that I would not lose it here. Not here, where all of these malicious girls could see me: Not here where they would use this as fire power for weeks to come. Certainly, not where my teacher would do nothing more than send me apathetically out into the hall. No I would not cry.
            We began learning about excel at a quickened pace as the teacher fired through instruction after instruction; telling us how to properly complete our assignments. Yet, I couldn’t help but find myself listening to the conversation taking place at the back of the room. Rebecca Stromberg was leading a whispered conversation among two of the other members of the fab five: Ashley Comquer and Veronica Stamp. They were too quiet to make out the contents of what they were talking about, but I couldn’t help but be focused on it. Their voices molested me as I glanced at the clock realising there was only twenty minutes until lunch. As usual my plan was to hurry out of the class room and make my way to the library.
            ‘Okay class, you understand all what you need to do and we have what looks to be about a good fifteen minutes before lunch. Pick your groups and start working on this assignment. No talking unless it’s about work!’
Oh man how I wished he had not said this. Why could he not have just kept teaching? I’m sure most of my classmates still don’t understand what’s going on anyways despite the constant reinforcement. Could this day get any worse? Immediately I began looking around to see if anyone would offer to work with me. Some of the more academic focused kids would often request to be my partner. Unfortunately there were none of those in this class so I knew that I would be working alone, or perhaps alongside a special needs student.
            But then something incredible happened and what I saw next was almost too unfathomable to imagine. Veronica Stamp, with her beautiful flowing blond hair was motioning for me to come over. Was this real life? Could this actually be happening right now? I blinked, rubbing my eyes but still I saw her. She waved me over inviting me to join their circle of friendship. Frozen in disbelief I sat there until finally she yelled, ‘Christina get over here! We want you to work with us.’ A few heads turned in reaction to the sudden holler. Most likely to catch a glimpse of what I deemed to be hell freezing over. Feeling the eyes of many students boring holes into the back of my head I reluctantly got up.
            Veronica pulled out a chair and motioned for me to sit down. She looked at me, immaculate, with her sun kissed skin, model like body and flawless features. ‘We need help. We didn’t understand anything Mr. Mathews was talking about…’ She said. The other two members of the Fab Five nodded their heads and pouted their lips. ‘Do you understand any of this stuff Christina?’ I looked at them, shocked, oblivious as to how they possibly didn’t understand. However, they had been talking the entire lesson so it was likely they didn’t know what to do.
            My brain was bursting with questions and things to say. It was as though a million amazing responses flew through my head but what came out was simply a quietly murmured, ‘Yes.’
            ‘Ah, you’re a life saver.’ Said Ashley as she dowdily smiled at me. I laughed. To my bewilderment we began working on the assignment Mr. Mathews had issued us. It was shocking to see how nice these girls were; how pleasant they seemed. They had a curious way of making me feel special and welcomed without really doing anything at all. What did not shock me was how useless they were when it came to understanding our task, but that was okay. As the clock was drawing nearer twelve pm and students were packing up Veronica began, ‘So what are you doing for lunch, cute stuff?’ I blushed and began to laugh.
            ‘Well I hadn’t really thought about it too much… maybe headed to the library.’ My eyes wandering.
            ‘No, come with us to the caff instead. We’ll get lunch. I heard its frozen yogurt day.’ The girls gasped exchanging looks.
            ‘Yea come Christina. We feel really badly about being mean to you and didn’t want you to think we were all mean.’ Said Rebecca, eyes widening.
            ‘Well I don’t know. I have a lot of homework...’ Veronica interrupted me with a disapproving gaze.            
            ‘No, there’s lots of time for homework later. Come on it’ll be fun. We can talk about cute guys while we eat. You’ll have fun.’ Her eyebrows shot upwards.
            ‘I guess I could come just for a little while.’ I reluctantly said.
            ‘Okay great, we can walk together. Where’s your locker.’ Veronica checked her phone as she said this, beginning to read a message. I thought it would be best to let her finish texting before telling her.  ‘Mhh?’ she asked pounding the keys on her mobile.
            ‘It’s on the second floor in the D wing. I don’t need anything in particular’
            ‘Great! We’ll swing right by there. Rebecca has to meet Jamie anyways so it’ll work out perfectly.’ The three of them shot up as the bell rang and picked up their Prada purses. When I turned the corner out of the classroom, accompanied by three members of the Fab Five I felt something I had not before; dominance. People moved closer to the lockers students as these girls walked through. It was as though these girls were heirs to the popularity thrown, decided by destiny to be the rulers of this high school. Confidently they walked adverting away the eyes of anyone who looked at them.

            We made our way to the D wing and soon I was at my locker. Opening the doors I scavenged through my coat to see if there could possibly be some remnants of change left over from the day before, but there was nothing. Nothing accept my buss money for the ride home. Without thinking twice I snatched the change and placed it in my pocket and then walked back to the circle of girls waiting for me. Now, with us, was Mary Rodgers and Jamie Filton; the other two of the Fab Five. Jamie greeted me with a hug but Mary flinched the other way, seeming to disapprove. I smiled back at Jamie and we made our way to the cafeteria.
            ‘Should I get fries or the pasta special?’ asked Ashley pressing her bill against her chin and leaning on one leg.
            ‘Augh, we go through this every time. Do you really trust those pimply faced grease balls to cook your food? At least with the fries you know there made from frozen, and that way there’s less risk of contamination.’ Rebecca swung her head back and forth as she emphasized her words and let out a blank ‘duh’ face directed at Ashley.
            ‘Right… that’s probably better. Mhh or should I get poutine?’ Her voice trailing off into self-thought.
            ‘What are you going to get Christina?’ They all looked up at me as I quietly stood behind them.
            ‘Oh I’m just going to get the frozen yogurt.’ I said tapping my heels slightly embarrassed. Then Mary glanced at me.
            ‘Aw did foster momma not give you enough for lunch today Thrift Shop?’ Mary remarked squinting her eyes in what looked to be hatred. Quickly, Jamie sent a sharp elbow her way telling her to shut up. She winced in pain ruffling her face into a menacing stare towards Jamie and then turned it to me.
            ‘Fine. Whatever’ she said turning around and paying for her chips. We stood in line, all of us ordering our food, but it interested me to see that none of them bought the frozen yogurt. I suppose they had changed their minds. Finally we reached the cattle filled room lined with benches and benches of students. The chatter was extreme and occasionally interrupted by the launch of a juice box or the hollering between tables. Looking on nervously I walked in follow to the five girls who lead the way. Each of them walking in priority and popular level. Not that I thought they did it intentionally but I think it was instinctive like how the alpha male leads the back. Rebecca was guiding the way to the pristine and perfect table awaiting us. I saw Rebecca and Ashley at the front exchange a whisper, giggling and talking back and forth.
            We sat down and the girls dived into their meals as I picked at my yogurt ensuring to take small enough bites so that I wouldn’t finish before them. They gossiped and laughed and I sat there smiling making frequent giggles in response to their jokes. After a few minutes of flaunting dramas and gossips I saw students and teachers setting up some sort of presentation on the stage near the right of the cafeteria.
            ‘Oh look! It’s Phantom Wednesday. This is the first time they’ve done it this year.’ Said Jamie turning towards the stage and placing her hands on the table.
            ‘Oh my god! I love these shows. They always have the coolest girls up there wearing some of the best stuff.’  Said Rebecca cocking her eyebrow and glancing over at me. The twinkle that reflected in her eye was so entrancing. ‘Phantom Wednesday’s are always the best.’
            Confused I bit my nails, unsure whether I should ask or not, ‘What’s Phantom Wednesday?’ My voice softened as the girls frantically reared their necks at me.
            ‘You don’t know what Phantom Wednesday is?’ asked Rebecca and Jamie at the same time. Rebecca looked at Jamie with disapproval. I shrunk in my seat and shook my head. ‘Where have you been all of high school?’ Rebecca continued, ‘They hold these three times a year and you’ve never seen one! Which rock were you living under?’ Unsure what to do the girls went on in their discussion.
            ‘I think it’s vintage or traditional this year. I’m not really sure but I know they’re doing something along the lines of being practical yet still stylish.’  Ashley stopped as Mary touched her elbow interrupting her.
            ‘Oh yea, I heard that too, and they sometimes let a few student volunteers model the runway I think.’ The Fab Five exchanged looks between them.
            ‘Oh my god, Christina… you should do it.’ Rebecca said, her tone heightening.
            ‘What? No I couldn’t go up there… I don’t have the right clothes at all.’ I replied, crossing my arms over my wrinkled blouse.
            Ashley cut in, ‘Yes you could. I just said they’re doing practical yet stylish. You’ve totally got that going on. They’re not looking for the super expensive clothing, just a few outfits that were put together nicely and yours is fab.’ I was nervous but on the surface looked calm and ready. I was in disbelief and I couldn’t understand how these girls thought I should go up on stage. Although my outfit was inexpensive it was fashionable. Maybe this was my chance; my time to shine. I’ve always been told you have to take risks in life for things to pay off and maybe this would swing my life in a better direction.
            ‘Yea Christina, do it! You’ll totally be hot up there’ Mary giggled.
            ‘You’ll totes be stunning,’ Jamie smiled at me and pondered. ‘We just need a few finishing touches,’ said Jamie as she removed a few of the silver bangles from her wrist, snatched a hair elastic from Ashley, and produced a necklace from her bag. With a few added touches I could feel my confidence growing and the smile on my face brightened.
            ‘Wait, one more thing,’ Rebecca ravished through her purse grabbing various eyeliners and mascaras. Quickly she stood up and reached over the table. Her curls were draping across my face.
            ‘Tilt her head to the side and close your eyes.’ She said as she began artistically applying the cosmetics to my face. She finished and sat back looking satisfied.
            ‘You look so good!’ The rest of the girls agreed in response to Rebecca’s statement. This was going so well. I felt so happy that I had forgotten about the awful text messages sent to me earlier on in the day.
            'Alright everyone. We’re almost finished getting set up here. It’s Phantom Wednesday and you know what that means…’ Mrs. Calmer’s voice stretched on in a way that sounded like a nineteen forties radio broadcaster. ‘time to see some of the best in new fashion! Yes. Yes. I know you’ve all been waiting, eager to see what’s next to come. What’s hottest new trends and what’s going to get you all the attention…?’ All of the faces in the cafeteria turned; the girls locking onto the stage-infatuated. Mrs. Calmers with her bobbed haircut, artsy glasses, and stylish dress went on broadcasting when Rebecca turned to me.
            ‘You have to do it Christina.’ She grabbed me shoulders, looking me straight in the eye.’ You’ve just got to.’ All of the other girls repeated it back to me, encouraging me to go up on stage. My heart was beating fast because I couldn’t let them down.
            ‘I don’t know.’ My lips pursed as my eyebrows contorted.
            ‘Don’t you realise, if you do this you’ll be one of us! All of the school will see you and I’ll convince Mrs. Calmers to give you special notice at the end. I’m close with her and she likes me.’
            ‘So close.’ Mary nodded. ‘And aren’t your parents like really good friends with her?’ The atmosphere was getting heated. Time was speeding up nagging me to decide. Finally I relented; feelings of relief swept over me knowing that I wouldn’t disappoint them.
            ‘Okay great! This is going to be the best and you’re not even going to know it. After this the school will never look at you the same.’ The edges of her lips beamed from cheek to cheek as she grabbed my arm and whipped me up making our way out to the hallway. The other girls followed in pursuit. It was a whirlwind of excitement as we pranced down the hall making our way to the back entrance of the stage. Wafts of Rebecca’s perfume drifted my way; intoxicating me with every scent. I was heightened with the rush of adrenaline and excited with the thrill of danger. 
            We arrived at the back door entrance to the stage. Rebecca opened it to see if anyone was there and then turned around.
            ‘No one’s here right now. We can go in. Ashley go to my locker, I just remembered I have the cutest top from H&M Christina can wear.’ Ashley darted off in the opposite direction as we went through the door. There wasn’t much light inside and it was difficult to see anything. All I could make out was the reflective tape that clung to the black steps in front of me. Beyond that there were dark curtains draping the platform and an array of shadowy images that appeared as clothing racks.
            ‘Okay just wait here. I’m going to see if I can find Mrs. Calmers and make sure it’s alright with her that you enter.’ Rebecca said pulling out her phone. ‘Say cheese!’ The flash of light blinded me through the darkness.
            ‘Why are you taking a picture?’ I laughed.
            ‘So I can show Mrs. Calmers. She has to know what your outfit is silly.’ The other girls stood around me and Rebecca darted up the stairs passing through the curtains to the change rooms. The chatter of the cafeteria festered its way loudly into the stage and it was difficult to hear what was going on. My heart was pounding now. The nervousness was setting in as I was coming closer to going on stage; and it began turning into a reality rather than a giddy girl’s fantasy. I had never been in front of this big of an audience before. What if I froze and ran off stage or tripped walking down the runway. Shut up Christina! Stop worrying. Don’t ruin the one shot you’ve got going for you. This is finally happening everything will be fine. You have to take risks. The game is out there and it’s either play or get played that simple. Repeating this back to myself, over and over again, I felt the pounding in my chest subside somewhat. Then Jamie and Veronica quickly opened the door and ran down the hallway; headed back to the cafeteria.
            ‘Where are they going?’ I asked Mary; the last person with me. She didn’t say anything but just stood there. ‘Mary?’ I repeated.
            ‘Mh? Oh I’m sure they’re just headed back so they can see you on stage.’ The noise was frenzied as there were so many people speaking at once. Straightening my hair to make sure it was all placed right Rebecca returned from the curtains.
            Almost panting she began, ‘Good news! I got the A-OK from Mrs. Calmers you can compete. She said your outfit was chique.’ Her speech was broken by her heavy breathing.
            ‘See… didn’t we tell you they’d love it.’ Said Mary, unenthusiastically, checking her phone. Feelings of relief replaced my nervousness and a smile stretched across my face. Then Ashley burst through the door, quickly closing it. Rebecca sighed clearly unimpressed.
            ‘Took you long enough… geez!’ She said snatching the clothes from Ashley’s hands, ‘Give me those! She has to go up soon.’
            ‘Oh my god Christina you’re going to be so great. I even brought you one of my jackets. It’ll make your outfit so perfect!’ Her voice whined annoyingly.
             Flashes of light randomly shone in at us through the cracks of the curtains indicating the start of the show. Mrs. Calmer’s voice resonated through the cafeteria but it was muffled by the curtains. And for our first contestant sporting a lovely pair of blue jeans and a Ralph Lauren polo…. Lots of cheers and hollers penetrated the fabric walls in front of us. The occasional ‘woot! Woot!’ and ‘Ow!Ow!’ could be heard. My mind was racing as my breathing got heavier and my pulse quickened. The sounds and smells of my surroundings serenaded me into euphoria. I felt like I was about to jump from a plane and fall rapidly to the ground; spinning and tumbling to the unknown.
            ‘Here put this on!’ Ashley shoved the top at my chest. ‘Quickly, I think it’s your turn soon!’ she said running up the stairs and poking her head through the curtain. I looked down at the shirt but the aesthetic was barely distinguishable in the darkness. One of my hair pins got stuck on the collar of the shirt as I pulled it over my head.
            ‘Ouch.’ I murmured wincing in pain. Ashley and Mary grabbed a hold of the shirt, strategically trying to release me from its grasps. Finally freeing me they began adjusting my outfit in clockwork; tucking my shirt here, flipping my hair there, applying the last minute lip gloss, and finishing it up with the jacket.
            ‘Alright it’s all finished. You’re gonna be awesome out there sweets.’ Ashley assured me pushing one of my curls behind my ear. They giggled and turned up to Rebecca who avidly was staring out the curtains.
            And for the next contestant wearing a fabulous piece designed by one of our very own… Mrs. Calmer’s voice trailed off as Rebecca came down the stairs and began giving me directions. Her voice direct, ‘Okay so here’s the plan Christina… don’t screw this up. All you have to do is walk out there, smile, and take your jacket off once you walk down the stage.’
            ‘Okay.’ I agreed.
            ‘Remember you have to take the jacket off! Don’t f**k this one up, and you’ll be popular, like us.’ The other two were giggling in what I assumed to be excitement. ‘You have to go up now.’ The anxiety had returned; raging its harrowing face into my mind. My breath quickened and my hands shook. My legs felt as though they would collapse right on the spot. My muscles felt like jelly relinquishing me of any control I had over them. We began walking up the steps and my body got weaker and weaker.
            ‘You guys… I’m so scared. What if something goes wrong? I don’t know if I can do this.’ My face was burning in terror as I took another step. Then she turned around pointing her perfectly manicured finger in my face and swinging it back and forth with each word.
            ‘Listen you little rag doll. You are not going to embarrass me like this… I went through a lot of trouble to get you onto this stage and now everyone is expecting to see you. So you’re going to go up there, and smile… walk down that f*****g runway and make the best of it.’ The shadows covering her face converged into a demonic mask that sent shivers down my spine. Her tone was deep and rugged as if she was possessed. I didn’t say anything, but simply stood there blanking out; entering a trance.
            ‘Christina just close your eyes until you get on stage. It’ll make it easier.’ Ashley’s bubble-gum voice popped into my ears. ‘… but you’d better go up there because if there’s one thing I know for sure it’s that Rebecca is the one person you don’t want to piss off.’ She let out a high pitched mh-hm. The announcer on stage began talking the last contestant off, Didn’t that outfit look fabulous… but I could concentrate on nothing but my fears. Thump. Thump. Thump. Why did I agree to this? How did I get myself into this situation?
            ‘You’d better be ready Christina. You’re next.’ Mary’s tone was dry and scornful. Mrs. Calmers continued speaking until she was calling for the next contestant. … an interesting piece indeed, and something special for all of you to lay your eyes on….
            Thump. Thump. Thump. My eyes were watering and my body was in sweats; frozen in terror.
Let’s welcome the next model. Rebecca clawed my arm pulling me up the last step as both Mary and Ashley grasped me by my shoulders firing me through the curtains into the dressing room area; which was also dimly lit filled with lots of unfamiliar faces.
            ‘Mary, stop him!’ cried Rebecca in the distance. With that Mary let go of my shoulder and ran off to the left somewhere. My vision was blurring and now almost all of my weight was supported solely by Ashley and Rebecca; forcing me forward until finally they catapulted through the drapes. I was dizzy and in complete panic. Hundreds of faces glared at me as the room went silent and they pierced me with their unfriendly eyes. The room was dark and I could feel the heat from the spotlights radiating down on my skin. The audience’s heads turned side to side murmuring to each other in confusion.
            ‘Walk! You idiot!’ was shouted at me from off the runway. Unable to think of anything else I slowly inched myself forward and tried to smile, but my expression conveyed a deer in headlights. Thump. Thump. Thump. Nearing the end of the runway I removed my jacket and swung it over my shoulder. Then my nightmare came true. The entire audience broke out into bursts of laughter pointing at me and yelling obscenities. Their voices cascaded forwards eradicating any self-worth that I had had.

            Frantically my eyes darted around the room as my vision blurred and my thoughts turned fuzzy. Then I looked down at the shirt the Fab Five had given me and saw the unimaginable. Written in black permanent marker were the words ‘Thrift Shop W***e’ along with tatters and rips and what looked to be a ketchup stain. My world crashed and my muscles jolted; freezing me in my spot. The audience noticed my dumbfounded look and roared even louder. In the crowd I could see all members of The Fab Five tilted over in hilarity, except for Rebecca. She gazed at me, hip popped, arms crossed with the slight grin of satisfaction.
            ‘Thrift shop w***e!’ yelled Jamie Filton as she pointed her boney finger at me. The audience repeated her words until it coalesced into a vindictive chant. My thoughts became stagnant until I noticed a poster at the back of the room decorated with the words Men’s fashion show: Phantom Wednesday. Tears welled up in my eyes as my chin contorted and my face burned beat red. Coming to my senses I darted off the stage, running as fast as I could towards the hallway. Making my way to the girl’s washroom the walls were spinning as my shoes pounded the ground.
            ‘Come back here you Thrift Shop W***e!’ a voice broke as it yelled from behind me. ‘We’re going to get you!’ This couldn’t be happening; it just couldn’t but as my head turned to see who was chasing me I realised it was. There, in violent pursuit was Veronica Stamp, Rebecca Stromberg, and Ashley Comquer. Quickly turning a corner and then another one and then another one I began to think I had lost them. Stopping for a moment and panting to catch my breath I reached the girls washroom on the third floor. They couldn’t find me here; this washroom was never used. As I entered the bathroom stumbling to the mirror and placing my palms on sink I looked at my reflection. Bursting into tears I began to wipe the makeup from my face; realising that they had applied it horribly making my eyes look cat like and placing blotches of discolouration everywhere. My sobs quickened until I was hyperventilating, unable to gain composure. At least it was over and I could and I had found safety. Then I heard a faint high pitched giggle from the hallway but was unsure if it was my imagination or not. Freezing, I listened intently, but nothing came and I let out a deep breath.
            Paralyzed more whispers giggles came from outside of the door. ‘I think she’s in here.’ One girl laughed quietly. The door opened releasing distress throughout my body. My veins pulsed and I thought I would die on the spot from terror as Rebecca Stromberg’s demonic face appeared from around the corner along with the other two.
            ‘So you thought you could run away from us didn’t you Thrift Shop W***e? Curls cascaded down her shoulders and she crossed her arms as Ashley and Veronica reached either side of her; forming a triangle.
            ‘I…. ah… ‘Stammering and unable to catch my breath I took a few steps back. They moved forward approaching me.
            ‘Who do you think you are? You are not welcome at this school and we’re simply trying to teach you a listen that you need to leave.’ She stopped, turning her gaze towards Ashley. ‘Ashley how are we going to teach this little s**t a lesson?’ Ashley’s eyes widened as she smiled up at her leader.
            ‘Let’s beat her…’ Her expression changed from a smile to the glistened eyes of an unrelenting gaze. ‘I definitely think we should beat her.’
            ‘I agree Ashley. Veronica?’ Veronica nodded intently. ‘We need to teach this little c**t a lesson and it’s for her own good.’
            Panicking, I didn’t know what to do. They were barricading my only possible escape and there was no chance of me passing them.
            ‘Get her Ashley!’ Veronica screamed. With that Ashley launched ferociously ripping at my hair and punching my face. She was like an animal released from a cage. I tried to unhinge myself from her hold but it was nearly impossible. Letting out screams of rage she ravished my body; continuously slamming me into the wall.
            ‘Die. You. Little. S**t’ she pushed me into the wall with every word.
            ‘That’s enough!’ Demanded Rebecca. ‘Veronica help Ashley hold her’ Veronica did as she was told grasping my arm as I screamed, trying to break free. With my arms behind my back, firmly being restrained by the two drones Rebecca took a step forward. She grabbed my bangs wrenching my face upwards.
            ‘Aw you poor thing. Maybe we should stop…’ I sweated as blood dripped down my nose. ‘Christina do you want us to stop?’ She said almost sweetly, but I said nothing as I was choking on the mucus mixed blood that flooded my throat. ‘Christina! I asked you a question! Do you want us to stop?’ I paused for a moment; not knowing if it was a trick question. She ripped at my hair again. ‘Christina! Answer me!’
            ‘Yes!’ I cried- panting.
            ‘Wouldn’t that be nice if we did…. And maybe we could but then how would you learn your lesson?’ Her bottom lip pursed outwards as she grimaced. ‘We have to do this Christina. It’s for your own good.’ With that she plunged her fist deep into my stomach; knocking the wind out of me. I gasped for hair and felt like vomit was going to spew from my belly. The pain radiated around my torso as she swung again. Soon I was not breathing and my muscles cramped into a fester of agony. She continued punch after punch until she snatched my hair and whipped me to the ground. Blood dipped everywhere and my nose was soaked; painful and agonizing.
            Frantically the girls kicked me bruising me from head to toe. Soon they stopped and just as I thought it was over they did something even more horrific. Picking me up they dragged my limp body into one of the stalls.
            ‘This one’s flushed! Veronica go check for one that’s dirty.’ Veronica opened the doors one by one until she found the dirtiest urine filled toilet and then dragged me over, plunging me into the depths of the disgusting toilet. Water flooded through my lungs and I gasped for air as my hands clasped at anything that would release me from this nightmare. Suddenly the buzz of the bell radiated through the bathroom and the girls stopped.
            ‘Luckily for you we have to leave now. I hope you learned your lesson you Thrift Shop W***e.’ Ashely giggled and the three of them left the bathroom. Crippled by the pain I limped my way up until I was leaning on the toilet. As I sat there looking at my ripped shirt and bloody arms I could think of nothing. But one phrase reached my lips. The game’s out there and it either play or get played. That simple.  
           

 

                                    END OF PROLOGUE

 

Walking through the hallways of West Jefferson high was like navigating through a collection of idiots who resided there. One might say these delinquents were inferior. Better yet, I might say that they’re inferior. Watching them panic over upcoming tests, and gossip about the latest dirt on Veronica Stamp or Ashley Comquer was something I found torturous. I felt like the foot trying to avoid stepping on the many ants that swarmed beneath me. I guess you could say I had the likings of a superiority complex, but with an IQ as high as mine how could you blame me. Doctors had classified me as highly gifted, likely passing the genius threshold. At the age of four I could speak two languages, knew all of my times tables, and was capable of playing Beethoven’s ninth symphony. Unfortunately, being a genius wasn’t a pass-go on the crappiness that came with high school.

            I was in the eleventh grade taking all advanced academic classes, though many of the students didn’t know it. Without trying I had the highest average in our school board. Because of this most of my teachers hated me. I didn’t participate or raise my hand and when I did I’d end up insulting the teacher, correcting him on a calculation error he’d made while conducting the lesson. The worst was my English teachers. They loathed me, but whatever. My theory on it is that English is like an art. Writing style, grammar syntax, and creative thinking combines to create your individual writing ability. When teachers see a student who vastly excels beyond any limit they’d ever hope to achieve, they become jealous. This is the way it’s been most of my life. My smarts have been more of a hindrance than a gift. No one likes feeling that you are smarter than them. They want to be the best, but simply they’re not. I am. That’s why I hide it. Instead my focus is on being popular. I want the best clothes, most expensive haircut, and hottest body. I want to walk down the hallways and have people look at me, envious of what I have. I want to wear crop tops to school and see girls wear them the next day because I wore one. I want my actions to trickle down through the popularity pyramid until even the weirdest of girls are dying to look like me and be like me. High school was to be my b***h, and to me it would be my game.

            The problem though. Is that a girl like me doesn’t have money to do all of these things. My mother abandoned me at a young age due to her incessant meth addiction. Since then I’ve been thrown from foster home to foster home unable to find a good fit. That’s why I live on my own now. I rent a small apartment, not far from school. The government supplies me some funding but I have to work a part time job to come up with funds for other needs in my life. Right now, you could say I’m a little embarrassed at the clothes I wear. With West Jefferson being a school home to the snottiest and richest girls my competition was high. Ashley Comquer pulls into the school parking lot every morning, music blasting, in her Mercedes Benz as the boys frantically turn their heads trying to catch a glimpse. Most of the other girls wear Dolce and Gabanna, Channel, or Ralph Lauren and actively spritz themselves with Jean Patou or FauBourg. This was a school held to the best of the best, and simply out of shear disgust I wanted to out “popular” them in every way. I wanted these daughters of CEOs and super model moms to idolize me. First, however, I had to figure out exactly just how to do that.

            My reign will be tyrannous and they won’t even see it coming. My journey starts on a rainy day in early October. Waking up in my cubicle of an apartment I sorted through the slim pickings that draped over the hangers in my closet. Much of my selection was from that of Hollister, Abecrombie, or Forever 21. Yes, I must admit not as bad as it could be but it was no wear near to my female competitors. I lazily grabbed my usual high wasted skirt pulling it up over my legs. Then went for a baggy shirt with ruffles and tucked it under the skirt, placed a necklace around myself and continued to do my makeup. After completing the ruthless ritual of covered my face with varying mascaras, eyeliners, and foundations I was ready for my hair. Curly? I think yes. When I was all finished and ready to go I left my lack of an apartment and began walking to school. Confidence is necessary in making people think you’re better than them so I ensure to keep my shoulders back and provide those around me with a condescending look.

I don’t like people. Whether I was born that way or came to be by life experiences I’m only left to self-analyze and attempt to repair my issues. You see, I have a very hard time conjuring up the small amount of motivation it takes to talk about the absolute worthless things most people have to talk about. Today Becky Schemer tried to talk to me about her f*****g new kitten and how cute it looked in a coffee mug. I literally almost threw up. You see people like Becky Schemer are easily amused and simple minded. I could never find the humour in a 45 minute drawn out story about a cat in a mug, but she did. She’s also Taylor Swift’s number one fan. What a surprise, I guess everything about Becky was simple. I can only imagine my facial expressions and gestures when somebody bleak tries to talk to me, it must be obvious I can only pretend for so long.
            Trying to get through high school with such a seemingly negative outlook on my fellow classmates was not going to get me anywhere. I had to find a way to not only communicate with people like Becky Schemer but befriend them. I don’t hate people I don’t relate to people. It feels as though my knowledge in life exceeds pretty much everybody at my school. I could see and understand there wasn’t a point to fashion and making myself pretty. Frankly I did not care about the opinions of my classmates so why would I try to impress them? I have all the knowledge I could dream of but there was a major part missing. Although extremely hard for me to admit...I wasn’t respected at West Jefferson.

            Thankfully blessed with my advanced mind I knew who these mindless drones respected and that’s beautiful people. Not only beautiful but socially blessed. These were the people that liked discussing what new flavour of mountain dew would be the best; these were the kitten in the coffee mug kind of people. I had to change myself to gain popularity be it a game that I knew in the end, I would win.
            I took a long glance at myself, my long brown hair hung down on my face lifelessly. It did a poor job of framing my face and the colour did nothing for my skin. I knew this was not beautiful, simply because I knew what was beautiful. My eyes looked tired and cold; there was no sparkle. My skin was pale and washed out; it was very obvious that I never left my bedroom. So I stole a couple of boxes of hair dye and filled my pockets with makeup. I spent hours and hours analyzing makeup tutorials. My face was no longer a face but a canvas, a map to my fame at west Jefferson. Rule number one; always be sure of yourself, because if you’re not who will be?
             I showed up to school with my new dirty blonde hair cascading over my shoulders, I wore it in beach waves. My skin was sun kissed with bronzer and my eyes popped with 7 layers of mascara. My coral lips curled into a smile as I reach the doors of West Jefferson with confidence. Rule number two; never avert eye contact. If you make eye contact with a good looking girl or boy stare back until they look away. It’s a control thing. As I walked through the halls I could feel eyes on me. Surely they could not recognize me, I was a new person. The next few steps were crucial.

            The bell rang, buzzing through my ears, alerting the students that first period was quickly approaching. With each tympanic click of my stiletto smacking the floor confidence washed over me. I was a blossoming flower, petals gradually unravelling, as I walked into my French class. The boys glanced at me and then turned their heads back to their cell phones or conversations, but with sweet satisfaction I watched as they took their double takes.
            Sitting down at my table of four I smiled at my group members, ‘What’s up guys?’ I asked counting the blank expressions.
            ‘Christina!’ Cherry Mars, sitting directly to my right, hollered at me in vivid disbelief. ‘What did you do to yourself and why did you not call to invite me on your little Hollywood makeover!?’ She demanded as she berated me, grabbing my chin and turning my head to get a better look. Cherry Mars was my closest friend at West Jefferson. We met in our ninth grade History class, and the first spasm-infused laughter session we had together marked the beginning of our friendship. Since then we have been like peas and carrots.
            Although Cherry wasn’t as gifted as I was she still packed a hard punch when it came to intelligence. She understood me, as best as someone could understand me. We laughed at the same drawn out jokes, and snickered at people we both deemed to be imbecilic. Cherry was more mainstream and she meshed better in the social circles more easily than I did.
            Looking back at her with sparkles in my eyes I replied, ‘It was just some cheap hair dye and a few bottles of new foundation and mascara.’ I said looking at her in disbelief. ‘…but don’t I look hot!’
            She beamed into a smile, ‘Girl you look Fa-bu-lous! You better show me what makeup you’re using cause I wanna get on that train.’ She giggled, winking at me, as her melon sized breasts and long blond hair caressed the tabletop bumping with every word.
            ‘Guys!’ Cherry yelled at Maria DaCosta and Valentino Morcez; the other two at our table. They shook the blank expressions from their faces. ‘Don’t you think this goddess of a girl looks absolutely fantastic?’ They sat; saying nothing. ‘Hello!’ Cherry beckoned.
            ‘Yes. Oh my god Christina you look amazing.’ Maria replied revealing the faint subtleties of her Spanish accent.
            Valentino cut in, ‘Yea… you, you look awesome Christina.’ Their attention shifted to the front of the classroom as Monsieur Marks began rambling out nonsensical French sentences. As if any of these students actually understood it. It was beyond me how French teachers shouted instructions at students in a foreign language, again and again, expecting them to understand. Each time they would confusingly strain their eye brows and each time the teacher would repeat it back even more slowly. It was infuriating and the students didn’t get it, and they didn’t care. It was as simple as that.
            ‘Bonjour classe. Common t’allé vous? Aujourd’hui on va travailler sur un projet trés spéciale.’ Monsieur Marks continued speaking while periodically babbling out grammar mistakes here and there to which only I seemed to notice. As the lesson went on Cherry and I kept whispering back and forth about my dyed hair, and newfound makeup skills. Perplexed, she asked how and why I’d done it but it was imperative that I not reveal the whole truth.

            Although we were best friends Cherry was the type of girl who couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. She and Adam Stark had been good friends in the ninth grade. Stupidly, thinking she could keep a secret, he revealed to her that he was gay. The secret overwhelmed Cherry, eating her up like a disease until finally everyone in the school had found out. He never forgave her and eventually ended up switching schools.
            This was the problem with people; they didn’t learn from the past mistakes and actions of others and so �" due to their ignorance �" they dealt with the consequences. This was one of the many reasons encouraging me not to tell Cherry. If I did, the entirety of my plan would be put to shambles.
            ‘Well!’ She whispered. ‘Do you want to come over this weekend or not? We can watch scary movies and paint our nails.’ Her eyelashes berating me as she winked.
            ‘Yea, okay.’ I replied unsure that I wouldn’t have something more important to do. ‘I’ll come.’ I smiled back at her.
            ‘Sweet! Connor’s gone all weekend and I think my dad has to work nights… so we’ll probably have the house to ourselves. You know what that means �" ‘
            ‘Tequila shots!’ I replied, butterflies dancing in my stomach. Suddenly Monsieur Marks interrupted us as the classes’ attention was drawn in our direction.
            ‘Cherry, Christina please stop talking. Comprendez-vous mes directions and que- ce que vous devraisez a faire?’ The teacher averted his eyes to Cherry, demanding a response. The smile across her face faded away as she squirmed in her seat not knowing what to say.
            ‘Ah…ah…’ Her voice faltered in hesitation.
Quickly I tilted my face sideways, covering my lips with the edge of my fist and whispered into her ears.
            ‘He’s asking if you understand the assignment!’ I echoed, praying she had heard my pleas to help her.
            ‘Ah, oui Monsieur. Of course I know what I need to do. Just you wait my project will be the best you’ve seen yet.’ Cherry replied with a quick save as she boasted with confidence.
            ‘Trés bonne mademoiselle. Mais la prochene fois tu as besion de responder en francais.’ Monsieur Marks shot me a chastising look as he went on speaking. I shrunk in my seat, picked up my pen and tried to convey the slight resemblance to a student paying attention.
            ‘Thanks.’ Whispered Cherry, nudging me in the ribs. The class concluded as Cherry and I parted ways heading to our different classes. I felt happy that Cherry had given me the stamp of approval. 

            My new found skills in the aesthetic department were only a mere scratch on the daunting surface of transformation. I had to be the queen; the controller of this petty and insignificant world. This would take time, money, and effort. Yes, I had made a small transformation but what was to come was much bigger than a few cheap bottles of hair dye, and some drug store foundation. Fortunately, for me, I was a beautiful girl. With proportions that would put Davinci’s sculptures to shame I had an excellent starting point to build upon. Much to the common misconception of intelligence being married to ugliness it’s actually quite the opposite. Facial symmetry, good health, and sexual appeal go hand in hand with high IQs. Take that with a grain of salt though, because most of these lip gloss wearing tanner sprayed s***s wouldn’t be able to tie their own shoes if they didn’t remember the bunny rhyme first. Regardless, my first step would be getting money. Without it I’d have nothing.

            As I went through my day sitting through boring classes and avidly awaiting lunch I started to brainstorm ideas on how I could make money. Where could my skills be put to best use? Ideas passed through my mind at lightning speed campaigning themselves on display as I scrutinized them. This couldn’t be petty dollars and nickels. I would need thousands and thousands of dollars in order to catapult myself beyond any of the others in my school. Then it hit me. How could it have been so obvious? What other way would an inexperienced high school student gain finances but to sell drugs. As I analyzed this idea the logistics began to swim through my mind, growing in depth and complexity. Finally it was a self-sustaining concept. It began to root itself in my subconscious, infecting my mind and actions like a virus. Not just the plan to sell drugs but also the pursuit of dominance. Of course, I would need to do more research into the area and find out things like which drugs are the most lucrative and which are the easiest to sell. Perhaps I would make a wide spanned, multi-pronged operation in that I would sell many different drugs to the various needs of susceptible individuals. This was to be decided later though. First I needed some start up cash, and fast.
            “Christina! Get off your phone, stop looking out the window and pay attention.” It was Crasser, my physics teacher.  I looked at him, rolled my eyes and sat up from my chair shaking the vacant expression off my face.
            “Tell us Miss Chalmers, since you were so obviously unimpressed with the lecture, what the moment of inertia in this neutron would be?” He raised an eyebrow as he starred at me. It was perfectly understandable. Crasser was a FOB in the sense that he was a new hire at West Jefferson. He often made unneeded interruptions in class telling people to stop talking or put away their cell phones. I got it. He was trying to assert his dominance and reassure himself that he wasn’t insecure. Trying to assure himself that all those hurtful comments his wife made about his sexual performance were just nonsense.   He was a new teacher; didn’t know me, and because of this I would cut him some slack. After not paying attention the entire lecture I straightened in my chair, strained my eyes and looked at the numbers on the blackboard.
            If the neutron is rotating every point three seconds and the period is increasing by four times ten to the negative thirty one for each second of time that elapses then…
            “One point one times ten to the thirty eighth kilometres metres squared.” The classroom went silent. All of the pimply faced Asians turned their heads, looking at me with blank expressions on their faces. My teacher’s eyes widened as he stepped back looking at the black board.
            “It’s easy to assume,” I began “that the moment of inertia would correspond with the vertically influenced kinetic energy but that’s not the case. Instead you must factor in the mass and gravitation effect of the earth in order to calculate the correct answer.” I said slowly. Still there was only silence as Crasser picked up a calculator from his desk and meticulously began entering in the numbers. Slowly he raised his head and looked at me.
            “That… that is correct.” He said quietly; blankly starring onwards. I took a deep breath and let out a sigh turning my head to the window.
            “I know…” I said, apathy infusing into my tone of voice. The lesson went on but the atmosphere had changed and it concluded quickly. Mr. Crasser had tried to embarrass me, tried to make a spectacle of my insubordination and although he was wrong it gave me my first idea. In order to earn the start up cash I needed for my drug sales I would tutor University students in theoretical physics. The idea was simple enough. The only thing I would need to do would be to post an advertisement online, place posters up at our local university and voila I’d be earning cash.  This would give me the gains I needed to start making progress. My charge would be steep as it would need to be, but it would be fair. I would be providing top end education to the struggling students in University, and perhaps I would consider doing projects for them.
            When I got home I began scavenging the internet for possible venues, universities, and pursuits to which I could apply my skill. Soon I found a website called The Barrel which was the general university online forum of which students could access for common requests and needs. They’d go here to look for rooms for rent, books for sale, or in my case academic help. Without hesitation I wrote my advertisement. It was important to make myself sound established and well educated so I indicated that I was a recent Masters graduate who needed some extra cash to pay the bills. I looked old enough. Although I was still in high school I could easily lead on that I was nearing my late twenties. With a few behaviour modifications I’d fool a rocket scientist into thinking I was twenty seven. I wrote that my GPA had been that of a four point O which it would have been if I was telling the truth. With that I sat back and looked on. The rush that ensued while watching my first step spring into life was intoxicating. Now all that I had to do was wait.

            Much to my surprise the first response came quickly. This was likely because we were entering mid-October and midterm exams were quickly approaching. One guy name Elliot responded, and then another and another. Negotiating the price was the easy part. These students were so desperate to succeed on their exams that they’d pay anything. I would pray on their fears of not getting into medical, law, or veterinary school and use this to my financial advantage.  I quickly scheduled my first lesson with the highest offer and was satisfied. It would be held Wednesday evening at Columbia University. Thirty dollars an hour was what I was charging and I anticipated my newly obtained income. 

            Tuesday passed as slow and intolerable as Monday had, but I had new found motivation. Something interesting to keep me going and optimistic. As I walked through the hallways looking at the snobby make up faced girls with their noses stuck high in the air a slow satisfaction swept over me. I knew what they did not and it made me glow from every pore in my body. Soon they’d be answering to my every desire; idolizing me in imitation.
            The day went on finally coming to an end and I made my way home. I spent my evening watching scary movies and eating popcorn until I finally fell asleep. After school on Wednesday I arrived at home again. My appointment with Elliot was at six thirty. This meant I needed to leave with and adequate amount of time to get there as I would need to take the bus. If I got on the six at five o’clock I could take it until I reached the subway. From there it would take me right to the University where I would meet Elliot in the small coffee shop located on campus.
            Before any of that could happen, however, I needed to figure out what to wear. I sorted through my drawers and closet but couldn’t find anything I liked until finally I stumbled across an old blouse that my last foster mother had given to me. It was from Le Chateau, hardly expensive enough to impress any of the snobs at school but believable enough to look like a struggling graduate. I paired this with one of my favoured pencil skirts, added a necklace and slipped on my black high heels. Just like that I was ten years older, more sophisticated and well versed on life.
            As I reached for the door I quickly caught the glance of one of my open drawers. There was a pair of fake glasses in it that I had used last Halloween. Feeling especially proud I snatched the glasses and finished my image. My name was Sandra. I had taken my undergrad in Analytical chemistry, and minored in theoretical physics. I had two cats named Titan and Troy and was engaged to a surgeon at the general hospital. My story was perfected and I was ready to go. It was important to tie up any loose ends, cross my t’s and dot my I’s, and have my entire alias mapped out in my head. Sure even if my integrity was questioned I’d be to able improvise on the spot but I wanted to be careful and meticulous. 

            When I arrived at the University, exiting the subway, herds of students swarmed around me; all of them having places to go or people to see. There was a more exciting atmosphere to this place as I watched the flow of students walking around me. They were more confident, and clearly more educated. What I needed to do was blend in. This was easy. Looking at those around me I began to mirror the expressions on their faces, and act as they acted. Imaging myself anticipating my daunting MCAT results allowed my face to be seen as slightly agitated and worried. It was natural and it would easily keep my identity concealed.
            As I entered the coffee shop I looked around, checking my watch and tapping my foot. Then I saw a small muskrat of a man look up, making contact with my eyes. In front of him was a mess of papers and books scattered along the table. This was him; I could tell so easily. Without hesitation I quickly walked towards him, each click of my high heel indicating my dominance.

            “Elliot? Hi I’m Sandra the tutor you were supposed to meet.” It was surprising how easily the nasally tone of a career focused woman came out of my mouth. My voice had taken action on its own leaving me in the background only to instruct it what to say.
            “Hi, how are you? Thanks for coming.” He said struggling to make eye contact. I’m almost sure he stole a glimpse at my hourglass figure.
            “I’m very well thank you. Shall we get started?” As I sat through the session listening to his problems and confusions I answered all of his questions precisely. It was beyond me how other people could so easily get frustrated at these physics problem. For me, looking at them was like looking through the opening of a kaleidoscope. The numbers pranced around creating a mirage of patterns and designs that combined into a beautiful array of plausible answers. Shapes would collide with each other interlocking again and again until the perfect formation was found. With that the answers would come zooming into my vision, blinding me with colour. And then I knew. I never got caught up or frustrated looking at the scribbles of numbers written on a piece of paper. The entire process happened continuously in my head.

            Our lesson continued and I found myself becoming impatient; answering his questions was tedious and annoying. What a stupid man. How could he expect to be a physicist when he was this thick? He should just give up right there, throw his dreams out the window and realise he’d be better off picking up garbage. My unimpressed feelings must have showed on my face. It was becoming near impossible to keep my head from nodding off. Suddenly he stopped talking and looked at me, taking a deep breath he asked,
            “Should we take a break,” glancing at his watch. It was half past eight. Please lord let me be rid of this man and on to my climb of popularity. Happily I agreed and we both leaned back in our chairs. After getting a few muffins and some coffee to keep us going there was nothing to do but exchange small talk and pleasantries. This was the quintessence of my hatred for small minded people. No I did not want to hear about their boring lives nor did I want to pretend as though I was entertained, but as our conversation progressed I stumbled across something intriguing. Elliot, much to my bewilderment, had just disclosed that he shared a relation with Alex Vandercaamp, one of the richest lawyers in New York. In fact Alex Vandercaamp was his first cousin. He revealed this to me indirectly by telling me the story of how he had just endured a major car accident and his cousin, Mr. Vandercaamp, would be representing him next Wednesday in court. The story of his car accident did nothing more than annoy me but the side details that came with it made my eyes glisten. Elliot was the heir to very powerful and wealthy family and he was sitting right in front of me. I perched up in my seat and placed my elbows on the table, smiling as I looked into his eyes.

            I had been given a golden opportunity. The cosmos had provided me with such a coveted situation that it could have been nothing other than fate. With enough chatter I’m sure I could convince Elliot into writing a fat cheque with my name on it before the evening concluded. Of course I would need to let the conversation flow naturally but I would gently guide it in the direction that would best accommodate my needs. We jumped from his car accident to people hurting themselves and back until finally it spiralled into death and people dying. The lies that spewed from my mouth next were almost as shocking as Elliot’s bank account balance. Preparing myself for the Oscar award winning performance I was about to commit I let my eyes water, tensed all of my muscles, and looked away for a moment.
            “I’m… I’m so sorry...” my voice shaking “it’s just, it’s so hard for me to talk about death and people getting hurt. Oh god, I shouldn’t be losing it like this in front of a cute guy I just met.” His eyes widened. With a curved smile it was clear he liked the sound of my last five words.
            “What is it? Did I offend you?” he asked as he gazed down at me.
            “No of course not. Don’t be so silly. It’s my mother. She’s been placed at the top of the critical care list in the oncology department of Bellevue Hospital. The doctors say she needs surgery on her larynx or she’s going to die.” In between sentences I would pause and take short staggered breaths. He was totally buying it. I could see his face turn from optimistic to remorse and pity. I continued, “That’s why I’m tutoring students, because I need the money. I’m working three jobs and my life has hit rock bottom. It’s just so hard.” I finished.

            He starred at me, my head down and my hands frantically wiping away the tears. At this point I think we both didn’t know what to say, but I knew exactly what needed to be done next. Wiping the last tear from my face I turned my head towards him, slanted my eyebrows upwards, and hit him with the biggest Betty Boop smile I could muster. This was the finisher; the knock out and he was done. Once my tearful eyes interlocked with his I knew he was mine: The puppet that I controlled with every move. You could say it was a damsel in distress type of situation. He had no choice in the matter but to fulfill his desires to help me. He wanted to feel like a man: powerful and in control. To Elliot this was his opportunity to free himself from the label he had been given of being a nerd: Rid himself of the constant rejection that he faced with each new woman he met. As I looked into his eyes I could see the inklings of his adoration for me beginning to sprout through his mind. I almost pitied him as I watched it happen. Almost. We continued our conversation with exchanges back and forth; all of them questions and responses. I suffocated him with lie after lie until I could see him nearing completion. It was almost beautiful the way you could plant ideas into other people’s minds; manipulating them to your every whim. The key to manipulation is that the people you are trying to influence cannot know they’re being influenced. If they do then all is lost and you will get nowhere. Luckily this guy didn’t have the slightest clue what was actually going on. He only saw the movie that I allowed him to see as I projected it through his head. Finally I had divulged so deep into my story of my dying mother that it was clear he could not take it anymore. My goal had been achieved. I walked out of that coffee shop with a rich man pitying me and a personally written cheque for fifteen thousand dollars. Needless to say my stomach was zooming with butterflies.

            The biggest mistake people made when trying to build a business, grow financially, or become comfortably self-employed was that they spent their earnings too soon. All the while becoming perplexed as their start up business plummeted into the cold grasps of failure. I, however, knew better than that. Although it was hard to not spend such a large sum of money in a binge shopping spree I knew that it had to be done. That being said I would keep ten grand that I would apply to my first purchase of narcotics and have the remainder to myself. Five thousand magical dollars to spoil myself with. Where would I start? I’ve never had that much money in my entire life but I’m sure it wouldn’t be too difficult to blow it. After spending more time thinking about where this five grand would be put to best use, it hit me. I needed a car; as much as it would be nice to blow this money I needed a method of transportation. While I lounged about my room, again my focus turned towards the internet. I sorted through add after add until I had narrowed my selection down to a handful of possible candidates. After e-mailing all of them and scheduling dates I was set. Tomorrow after school I would make my way uptown to 451 Hampton Street and test drive the two thousand and two Toyota Corolla. The car had been listed at thirty eight hundred with the seller indicating that that was as low as he’d go. We would see about that.

            I awoke the next morning to my alarm clock blaring and the sun shining in at me. As I got up and began my morning routine getting ready for school it was hard not to think about the money. It had taken over my thoughts and all I wanted was more. After finishing my makeup and perfecting the smoky eye look I grabbed my school bag and left. Getting on the bus I listened to my morning playlist of the latest hot new songs that appeared on iTunes top ten. I was versing myself on the nonsense that teenage girls my age obsessed over. Learning the names of the artists and songs was easy, taking no longer than a few listens to have it all memorised. Today I needed to get in contact with a drug dealer. Because I had never been involved in the usage of drugs I had to admit that I was a bit ignorant on the subject. However, there was one guy at my school that almost everyone knew the name of. Samuel Parkinson was the go to guy for any fix you needed. I had never met or talked to him because, please why would I? I needed to make his acquaintance. His story was easy enough; being born to immigrant parents, and having made his legacy in his multitude of drug contacts. He was a puzzle that I had long ago solved.

            After getting to school I plummeted into research, heading to the library. I’d skip the first three periods and fill my brain with as much knowledge on drug sales as I possibly could. At lunch I would seek out my soon to be business associate and talk to him about my plan. Much to my surprise the highest drug in demand for kids my age was Adderall and other ADHD medications. The list went on and on including MDMA, cocaine, and ecstasy. The Adderall could be sold to the struggling university students looking for that sharpened edge and focused vision. MDMA would be my next strongest seller; all of these rave obsessed party animals would eat it up like candy. I absorbed research papers and fact sheets; all one after another. Reading online forums was probably the most important thing I could do. I scavenged for personally written stories of failures and successes that people had posted online. As I scanned through the various articles listed online I identified their weaknesses and strengths; analyzed the best strategies and techniques to capitalize on the biggest earnings. The information entered my frontal lobe at lightning speed, quickly being sorted and compartmentalized. After the few hours I had spent learning about the drug world I felt quite confident to begin my venture as an illegal entrepreneur.

             The bell rang and with it the next step in my process began. Getting up from my seat in the library I swung my bag over my shoulder and headed out the doors. The hallways were flooded with students heading to their lockers and putting their bags away. Samuel definitely wasn’t an overly smart kid and I definitely knew that even if he was he certainly didn’t care enough to be in academic courses. This ruled out the possibility of him being on the third floor; as that was the enrichment program. Likely he would be coming either from home economics or some type of delinquent filled woodworking class in the B wing. Because I knew Miss Johnson’s class was only taught at the end of the day I weighed my options. Chances were that Samuel was concluding his wood working class. With that I began walking towards the B wing; completely on the other side of the school. Likely I would pass him somewhere in the middle because he was predictably going to go for a smoke and sell some dimes. As I walked through the hallway I realised that being seen talking to Samuel Parkinson was social suicide. I needed to come up with a plan on how to talk to him without many people noticing.  

            Finally reaching the end of the south hallway, turning the corner Samuel’s face appeared among the many students in the hallway. Hesitating when he neared me I caught the edge of my foot on my shin as I fell towards him. The collision was impactful and he grabbed me in his arms but I allowed my saddle bag to swing open, releasing its contents onto the ground.
            ‘Oh, oh my god. I’m so sorry.’ I said bending down to grab my books. He looked inquisitively at me.
            ‘Let me help you. They’re everywhere.’ Picking up the books I noticed Samuel was wearing a west forty nine hoody, and a toque that anchored his hair on his face, concealing some of the pimples that adorned it. ‘Hey aren’t you Christina?’ I nodded. ‘I think we were in Business class together in grade nine.’
            ‘Oh yea! You’re Samuel right? You sat across from me.’ I said, my face blushing embarrassed that I shared a class with this imbecile.
            ‘Yea, I did. Ha you never paid attention. Mrs. Wanklin hated you.’
            ‘She did.’ This was my time. I needed to make some sort of arrangement so that we could meet later on. ‘Hey I heard you got in trouble a while ago. Someone been selling some drugs?’ I gazed at him playfully.
            ‘Ha yea, I don’t like to talk about it, don’t want to draw attention to myself again. Know what I mean?’ His eyes darted from left and right.
            ‘Oh yea of course’ I said. I was panicking: I needed to cut this short and finalize our later arrangement. ’Actually I’d be interested to talk to you about a proposition I’ve been thinking on. Would you want to meet later after school?' My eyes were unable to focus on him anymore. Instead they were counting the glares that I was getting from the students passing by. He looked at me; shocked.
            ‘You? You of all people want to discuss something like this with me?’ His lips curving into smiles.
            ‘Yes, yes. Are you able to meet later or not? I’ve got to catch my bus.’ He nodded and I felt satisfied. ‘Okay how about after school, four o’clock. Meet me at Bobby O’Brien’s downtown. Don’t be late.’
            ‘Okay…’ his tone almost in a laugh.
            ‘Alright what’s your number? I’ll text you later with the details.’ With every seconds passing I could feel my social reputation fading away. I didn’t have time to pull out my phone and glacially save his number so I memorized it. ‘Okay bye. I’ll talk to you later’ I walked off in the opposite direction of Samuel; a social cretin.
            Walking down the hallway I decided that I would skip the rest of the day so I made my way to entrance of the school, and waited at the bus stop. Pulling out my phone I opened up my contacts and began a text message to the owner of the Corolla.
            ‘Hey I have some extra time today, right now actually, to come and see the car. Would you be able to make this work?’ Adorning it with an adequate amount of emoticons I watched as the sending confirmation logo appeared. If he was okay with me going to see it now it would work out perfectly. I’d hit two birds with one stone and have just enough time to make it to Samuel.
            Near the top of the street, at a far distance, I saw my bus approaching. Hoping he would respond quickly I waited. Ping. ‘Absolutely. I’m free all day, just let me know when you’re heading over.’ My bus began to stop, but with the recent news I waved it away. I needed to get on the seven because now that I was going up town; I’d be headed in a different direction. After getting on the bus, sitting at the back, I plugged my head phones in. Screw that top forties crap I’m listening to what I want. Scrolling through the artists and selecting The Beatles I sat back and relaxed.
            After awaking from a light sleep I felt my head bang the wall beside me as the bus came to a halt. Sluggishly I exited the bus and entered the terminal; home to the many coffee shops and cigarette stands. Making my way to the bathroom I looked in the mirror. There were bags under my eyes. This simply would not do so I pulled out my compilation of foundations and concealers. Smearing the green make up on the bags under my eyes it cancelled out the previous purple coloring. After I applied some standard foundation and wiped the white sparkles beside my tear ducts to make them pop just a little bit more.
            Appearance was everything and I knew I had to look my best for this man to take me seriously. Most people don’t know it and pretend to assume that they don’t judge based on looks; but they do. It’s a subconscious thing. If you’re fat and ugly people automatically assume you’re dumb and lazy. They go hand in hand most of the time. This might sound mean and pessimistic but it’s true, and if there’s one thing I did in life it was to look at things realistically. If you do that then you’re not going to be disappointed.
            Exiting the terminal, I got on the last bus to take. It would bring me right to Hasler Street where I’d begin the purchase of my future car. The excitement flew through me like butterflies. I was unparalleled by any other and eager to practise the art of manipulation. When I got off the bus the stinging gusts of cold wind whistled by my face, and the leaves swirled in its follow. Looking at the numbers on the houses I made my way up the street, near four hundred and fifty one. Before walking up to the house I texted the man, notifying him of my arrival. He responded with instructions to come to the porch and I did. Then a bright eyed man opened the door, smiling from cheek to cheek.
            ‘Hi Christina? It’s nice to meet you. Come in. Come in. It’s freezing outside.’ Looking at the inside of his house I saw a multitude of kid’s toys and baby gates scattered along the floor. He was a dad not a serial killer so I had nothing to worry about. You could never be too careful. Happily I walked through the entrance, taking a deep breath and removing my hood.
            ‘That’s the beauty in the driveway huh?’ I smiled pretentiously beaming with excitement.
            ‘Yep, that’s my baby. She’s an old one though and we’ve just bought a new car so we need to sell her and let her go.’ His face almost looking sad as if he actually felt a connection with the piece of junk sitting in his driveway.
            ‘Well we shouldn’t wait long. I can show you in a minute. I’m just waiting for my pot of coffee to finish brewing. Would you like anything? A hot chocolate or some coffee?’ He asked, his voice fading as he walked into the kitchen. Yet still I stood in his foyer.
            ‘I’m fine. Thank you so much though.’  Pausing for a moment I changed my mind. I remember reading somewhere that sometimes it’s best to accept a gift from someone. It psychologically reduces the awkwardness and makes the situation more at ease. So I continued, ‘Actually, I really wouldn’t mind a hot chocolate if it wasn’t too much trouble.’ My voice changing to the innocent and shyness tone of the normal sixteen year old girl. Returning to the foyer he handed me the mug and slipped on his shoes. When we went outside he commenced his ritualistic sales pitch on the remnants of his car.
            ‘She’s got some fall backs. The air conditioning doesn’t work, the fenders got a slight dent on it, and there’s some damage to the interior. The fabrics separating on two of the seats. She’s got lots of life though,’ he continued as he guided me through the vehicle, ‘The engine’s got a good feel to it, and she runs like a beauty.’ Every time he used the word she in reference to his car I felt myself boiling inside. It had been so quickly that I began to loath this man. 
            ‘Well the car definitely seems great and to be honest I really don’t mind if there’s a few dents and the AC doesn’t work. You’re charging a fair price, but we both know that looks can be deceiving. Would you mind if I took it for a spin and brought it to my mechanic downtown to run some diagnostics?’ I flicked my hair over my shoulders and analyzed him. It was becoming quite evident with the length of his pause that he wasn’t so sure. ‘If you’re not okay with that I’d be happy to do it another day. I don’t actually have that much time today. I’m scheduled to volunteer at the animal shelter later on today.’ I lied as I watched his facial expression change.
            This man was like a Rubik’s cube. I need only turn him the right way and say the right things to complete the puzzle, and I could sense myself drawing nearer.
            ‘Well... ’ he began. Interpreting his facial expressions I could see he was leaning towards saying no so I acted; quickly and strategically.
            ‘Really, it’s no problem at all. If you’re uncomfortable with it and don’t have the time then we’ll reschedule. I can see that you have kids at home and you can’t leave them alone. If it would make you feel better I can leave my identification and wallet with you?’
            ‘Oh no, no that’s okay. Of course you can take it. Why wouldn’t you be able to’ his voice unsure almost if trying to convince himself.
            ‘Great well I guess I just need the keys then and I’ll be back in a jiffy.’ Using words like jiffy and golly made me sound innocent and stupid; reducing his anxieties of watching me drive off in his car. After returning from the inside of his house he reluctantly handed me the keys. I grabbed them, telling him the address of the mechanic that I would bring the car to. With that I drove off carefully and cautiously. However, as soon as I turned that corner I blared the music and pressed on the gas.
           
            I whistled around corners as the rear end tires drifted on the road. Spastically pushing on the acceleration I turned up the radio and let the beat vibrate through my body. Adrenal surged through my veins and freedom swept through me. Feeling satisfied I drove all the way downtown, passed the bus station, through the ghetto until reaching a mechanics garage that I had googled earlier. Whipping into the parking lot I cranked the wheel in a frenzied turn that brought me to a stop in one of the spaces. Before going into the garage I applied some pink rouge lip gloss, pushed my hair up, and pulled my shirt down so as to show more cleavage.
            ‘Can I help you with something?’ the short Mexican man hollered at me after walking in. Lowering my head and cocking it to the side slightly I smiled at him with my cherry lips.
            ‘I’m buying a car and I was wondering if you could take a look at it because I need to get it E-tested and certified.’ He smiled in acknowledgement shuffling towards me. ‘It’s just outside. Will you take a look?’ My voice was whiny but flirtatious.
            ‘Yes ‘um I’ll come now to see the car. You drive it in here, okay? I’ll direc’ you where to go’ I did as instructed and after pulling the car in he told me to wait in the lounge area. He began to look through the car, opening the hood, playing with valves and notches; the works. Once he had finished prodding and poking at every possible part I thought imaginable he returned with a piece of paper.
            ‘You know missy dis car is in pretty good shape. De engine seems to be running fine. You need some new eegnition coils but das proly about it. Even so, chu know, dis car could proly survive as is.’ It was nearly impossible to understand him as he spewed out his words plastered with an uneducated Mexican accent.
            I giggled. ‘Well here’s the thing,’ I stopped, squinting my eyes to read his name tag, ‘ Ricardo. My grandfather’s an elderly man and he has trouble getting to and from places. I live with him and I’m buying the car for us to share. But the man who’s selling the car is listing it at just over three grand. Quite frankly, I just don’t have that much to blow right now. I was hoping that you could maybe do something about it. Perhaps you didn’t look thoroughly enough.’ I winked ‘I think there’s a lot more that needs fixed on that car than meets the eye.’ I explained.
            ‘I don’ know what chu mean missy.’ He replied. My impatience was growing. I wanted to get this interaction over with as quickly as I could. Grabbing a few hundreds from my purse I flaunted them, waving them as a fan over my face.
            Mouth agape he replied, ‘Oh… Yes ‘m I understand. Let me go do a few more tests to the car and I’ll come back.’ He walked away and I plunged back down into the drab leather seats. Hoping he had understood he returned. Much to my delight the paper that he now handed to me was much longer. We exchanged looks; both of us in mutual comprehension.
            The work up sheet was now colourfully decorated with an array of problems: tires worn out, brake pads deteriorated, faulty oxygen sensor, and misfiring spark plugs. In bold text at the bottom of the falsified page was the outrageous price of two thousand one hundred and twenty seven dollars. My lips curved into a smile.
            ‘Alrih’, so total today is ninety eight forty seven for da E test.’ Ricardo announced as I pulled various bills from the depths of my purse. Watching as I arranged the bills to accommodate the total, he dropped his glare shooting me an expectant look. I handed him the money.
            ‘Silly me, and of course for your troubles…’ I retorted placing a fifty in his grease ridden hand. He snatched it away saying good bye and I walked out of the garage.

            Once again I drove rambunctiously through the city until I arrived back at Hasler Street. Reaching the front porch I knocked on the door and soon the man’s boyish face was visible through the glass window. He opened the door.
            ‘You’re back! And so soon. Great come in and we’ll talk about the car.’ Leading me through the foyer and into his kitchen he motioned for me to sit down at the glass table. ‘I’ll make you a hot chocolate. Did you want any cookies or a snack?’ He annoyingly asked.
            ‘No.’ I replied, analyzing his face. On the outside he advertised an overly eager and pleasant man but I could tell by his mannerisms that this was simply a façade. Likely, while I was gone he had discussed the sale with his wife on the phone and probably had strengthened his stance on the car. It was written across as he sat down handing me the mug. He almost looked guilty and it was pathetic.
            ‘So…’ He began ‘tell me, what did your mechanic say?’ asking while he took a forceful sip from his coffee; choking slightly.
            I grimaced. ‘Well there are definitely a few complications with the car.’ His face turned sour as I continued. ‘Unfortunately there’s issues with the brake pads, transmission, and the tires. The mechanic told me that he didn’t think it would last much longer.’ I clasped my hands and cringed giving an ‘uh-oh’ sort of stare.
            ‘That’s impossible. I’ve never had any problems with that car. The brakes work perfectly. I just got them changed last spring.’ His mouth opened in defense.
            ‘I know how you feel. I didn’t believe it at first either, but the mechanic said these things happen with older cars. Here look at the write up he did.’ Sheepishly I pulled the note from my bag handing it to him like a cat producing a dead mouse for its owner. He grabbed it analyzing its contents from top to bottom as if it were the hieroglyphic scripture used in biblical times.
            ‘My god, I had no idea she had this many problems.’ He went on reading until his eyes met the enormous number plastered at the bottom. Shocked he looked up at me. ‘He said it would cost that much for repairs.’
            ‘Yes’ I nodded at him. He drummed his thick fingers on his mug as thought quietly.
            ‘Well, Christina.’ He looked up at me, a faint smile spreading over his mouth,’ Without question I’m sure we can drop the price a little.’
            I sighed, tapping my foot and wincing my cheeks. In an attempt to sound nervous I stuttered, ‘W-we-… well would it really be w-worth b-b-buying at this point?’ Adverting my eyes to the table and avoiding eye contact, the man pulled back in his seat.
            ‘Of course Christina!’ he assured me as his voice boomed to an unprecedented volume. Looking slightly embarrassed he quieted down, ‘Of course Christina. That car out there has soul in her �" let me tell you that. She’ll give you another good few years. I’m sure of it.’ After he finished his rant silence hung through the air. Allowing it to fester into an uncomfortable length of time I twiddled my thumbs, and shook my leg.  His voice was passionate and compelling as if he had been arguing the livelihood of his family, or an old friend.
            Quivering I pressed onwards, ‘… but the starting price was at three thousand eight hundred dollars, and after the cost of getting it fixed it’ll be around seventeen hundred �" much lower than you asked for. My father said I needed to buy a good car. He’ll be disappointed if I bring home this one.’ Lies passed through my lips more easily as I fell deeper into character. The man looked on with remorse taking his time as he chose his words carefully.
            ‘How about we do fifteen hundred.’ He said reluctantly, ‘I’ll take you to help get it fixed if I must, but my wife and I really need to get rid of this one. Our payment is due very soon on the new car.’
            Hesitatingly I responded and agreed to his said price as I fought back a smile and ensured to stay in character. We concluded our sale with the exchange of signatures on the bill of issue and he handed me the keys. His pale features contorted into a dimly lit smirk which conveyed his feelings of accomplishment; as if he thought he had walked away with the better hand.

            Skipping down the cobble stone steps that garnished his pathway I filled with an overwhelming excitement. Bubbling from beneath my skin was the realisation of what I had just done. Never had I thought it would be that easy to diminish the price so low. Wittingly I had this man begging me to buy his car for a cheaper cost all the while he was completely ignorant to my plans. It was like magic making someone believe something, changing their thoughts and ideas without them having the slightest knowledge. It was a game I found myself becoming entrenched in, but it was just too much fun.
            Vivaciously I hopped in the car and pulled out of the driveway. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was three thirty and although it would be tight there was enough time to stop by the government licencing centre before I had to meet Samuel. After arriving at the licencing centre I handed them the bill of sale, registered my new licence plates and made my way to Bobby O’Brien’s.          

            Half expecting Samuel to have been a no show I swung open the thick wooden doors of the classic pub, the bells ringing as they dangled in motion. Must thickly covered the air as dimly lit incandescent lights fought the rays of sunshine breaching their ways from the windows. Scanning my horizons Samuel was nowhere to be seen I realised. Late… How typical. I thought making my way to poorly upholstered booth. As I sat down a short drabbed man with a boney like structure for a nose approached me dressed in a kilt and an apron.
            ‘It’s quite cold out there aint it?’ He asked in an Irish accent; his nose sniffling and red. I nodded slightly annoyed. ‘Can I get you something to drink?’ He asked impatiently eyeing my student card on the table realising I was a student.
            ‘Absolutely!’ I replied my tone infusing with forced enthusiasm, ‘I’ll take two waters.’ The waiters squint eyes rolled as he walked away unimpressed with my lack of an order. He soon returned placing the two cups filled with ice and water on the table.
            ‘And what would you like to eat?’ He insisted as I scanned through my mobile. He cleared his throat looking displeased.
            ‘Oh I’m just waiting for a friend, but I’m sure we’ll get something big once he gets here.’ I sarcastically widened my eyes as if to be bewildered. Finally the waiter stopped annoying me and I began typing a message to Samuel.
            I’m at Bobby O’Brien’s. Where are you? We said we’d meet at four o’clock. It is now 4:07. Sending it I sighed leaning back in my side of the booth as the memories of my day flashed back through my mind. It was whimsical and entrancing to see my plan springing into action. I felt like a mother watching her baby take its first few steps. Then my phone sounded and it was a reply from Samuel. Sorry bus driver was a b***h and she just wasn’t feeling me. I’ll holla at you soon though. I won’t be long. Reading his lack thereof grammar I weighed whether his mistakes were intentional or not. Had he really learned to talk this way or was it merely a façade that he thought necessary to make him sound cool.
            The wooden doors shot open, letting in the piercing brightness of the outside. Samuel scampered in, his heavy boots dragging dirt in their follow. Looking around stupidly he finally saw where I was sitting and marched over to me, sliding himself rhythmically into our booth. With the arrival of a new guest the waiter returned without a moment’s hesitation asking what he could get for us. I wondered if he was doing it now to annoy me, but my mind overtook itself.
            ‘I’ll get a Heineken please.’ Said Samuel dignified.
            The waiter laughed jumping back and forth from our faces doubting our ages. ‘May I see some identification then?’ he asked crossing his tattoo covered arms; his voice effeminate and high pitched.
            ‘No problem, my man.’ Replied Samuel drowning his hand into the depths of his baggy pockets and brandishing a plasticized piece of ID. The waiter grabbed it narrowing his eyelids as he strained to read the information written at the bottom. After further questioning, the man looked disappointed that he had no choice but to get Samuel the beer. Slightly surprised at how well Samuel maintained his composure, knew his details, and was able to coordinate his falsified birth date with the accurately calculated age I leaned closer in my chair.
            Stowing the ID back into his wallet he leaned back, stretched out one leg and draped his arms across the length of the booth.
            ‘So you wanted to discuss a business proposition?’ he began. I nodded confidently in reply. ‘I’m assuming you’re looking to make some money from this?’ Again I nodded. ‘Well there’s a lot of things you need to know ‘cause you’re a rooky. You’re risky and I don’t know if I’m totally comfortable trusting you yet �" but I’ll hear you out and we can see where to go from there.’ His darkly shaded hair fell from beneath his hat winging itself outwards in a wavy display.
            The waiter returned unhappily and set the foaming beer on the table leaving a circular ring of dampness around the coaster it was placed on.
            ‘Here’s the Heineken for the student who’s clearly of age.’ He remarked sarcastically stomping back to the kitchen.
            ‘What was his deal?’ asked Samuel as I simply shook my head indicating that I didn’t know.
            ‘So…What exactly did you have in mind?’ Asked Samuel taking a sip from his illegally purchased beverage. My mind forcefully flooded with ideas and things to say muddling themselves deeply into a mess of thought. Rarely did this ever happen to me; but it must have been the rush of excitement that I felt.
            ‘Well, for starters I need to get one thing straight with you �" that if you can’t do �" there’s no point in us continuing here. I need money at the moment; that means I need the big bucks… not petty dollars and nickels. If we work together on this I’m sure we can make good business for the both of us.’
            Samuel looked intrigued as his dark features advertised a grin and he took another gulp from his Heineken.
            ‘Another thing, Samuel’ I continued. ‘I can’t go through with this if people are going to find out I’m working with you. My identity has to be concealed at all times. Essentially I need to work through you but we also have to work as a team. I’m incredibly smart, and I learn fast �" faster than you can imagine and if you help me out… I’m sure I could be an asset to you. I’m assuming you have a provider?’
            ‘Indeed.’ Samuel replied nodding his head.
            ‘Great,’ I went on ‘because we’re going to need a lot of supplies if we’re to get this operation off the ground.’ I said clearly with vivid pronunciation. The pub’s atmosphere was growing in noise and commotion as more customers trafficked their way in. It was becoming more difficult to speak on a leveled tone.
            ‘I was thinking we could start with two or three drugs to sell. Very simple and safe. It could be a test run for what’s next to come. Are you able to get a hold of Adderall?’ I asked. ‘The university students will hammer that away faster than either one of us could blink.’
            Samuel straightened in his seat seeming to jump onto my train of thought. Placing his thumb and index finger across his chin in the shape of an L he began, ‘I think I could actually… there’s a guy my cousin knows �" to be honest I think their roommates, but the one guys on heavy medication for ADHD.’ He finished continuing to rub his chin.
            ‘That’s good. Can you get it from him though?’ I asked persistently.
            ‘Most likely. The guy’s a stunner; he doesn’t know his a*s from his face and I’m sure he wouldn’t notice if I just took it �" and if that didn’t work we could just bargain a price. One that’s pretty low too. He’d walk away thinking he scored big. What would be better though…’ he trailed off but soon went on, as he looked at me. ‘… Would be if you could get a script from the doctors.’
            ‘Simple enough.’ I replied. ‘That will take some time though. You have to see a psychologist and be diagnosed with ADHD before they’ll even consider writing you a prescription.’ We both melted into synchronized thought, making suggestions back and forth until a Eureka moment occurred.
            Removing my palms from the sides of my forehead I looked at Samuel and said slowly, ‘Unless… we could find someone who works in a drug store who could sell us the pharmaceuticals.’ Silence ensued as I said these words, both of us analyzing the idea. Samuel sat up in his seat looking at the wall and shaking his finger.
            ‘That could work.’ He said brightly staring back at me. ‘But I have no connections. I don’t know any homies who work as a drug rep. You’d have more luck with that, being the hot young slice of a*s you are I bet you could meet someone who’d do it for you.’ Samuel’s words echoed through my mind.  The hot young slice of a*s you are. Was this how people saw me? Did he really think I was that hot? His words worked twofold. One, providing me a confidence boost and two, making me realise that this was a very plausible possibility.
            ‘In fact, I know a few people at the University. Maybe I could ask around and get connected with students in the pharmaceutical program…’ I sipped my water as the idea worked through my mind.
            ‘Yea! And use that hot a*s to get one of those knuckle headed idiots to fall in love with you and bam! You’ve got them under your spell, and they’ll do anything you want.’ He snapped his fingers in a swinging motion as he bit his lip and smiled intently. ‘It’s a good idea isn’t it?’ He beamed. Pondering on the logistics I realised it was a bright idea indeed. My starting point could be Elliot; the scruffy face man who had blessed me with my start up cash.
            ‘This could work. It really could work!’ I chuckled.
            ‘Oh yea, and we’ll be rolling in the doe…. Rolling in the doe.’ He raised his arms, dancing in his seat rhythmically for a moment. Both of us felt satisfied and our plan was set into motion.
            ‘For starters though,’ I continued, ‘you’ve got to get that Adderall from your cousin’s roommate.’ He nodded, his face turning more serious. ‘No. I mean you’ve really got to get it like tonight, or at the very least within the next two days because then we can start selling.’ My tone enhancing.
            ‘Yea biddy. I can do it… don’t doubt me. Just you wait. You’ll have those drugs by Thursday morning at the latest!’ He smirked when the waiter rudely interrupted us.
            ‘Are you guys going to order something or not!?’ He demanded popping one hip and tapping his foot.
            ‘Brother, what’s your problem though? We just chilling - hanging out… Go do waiter-ey things yo! Stop pestering us.’ With the wave of Samuel’s arm the server paraded off in the other direction, clearly insulted. We both laughed.
            We finished our conversation meticulously ironing out the details and logistics. Samuel and I would split the revenue fairly down the middle if we made a sale together, but if we sold pills alone we’d keep the profit solely for ourselves. More often than not if it was a sale in our school we’d split the revenue as it would be rare that I would approach a student at our school. Likely, though, I’d be the brains of the operation: identify which students were most likely to purchase, counting our income, keeping a watchful eye on the risk of getting caught. For this reason it was fair we split the West Jefferson income. Finally we concluded our conversation and both of us felt content.
            Samuel glanced at me, a devilish smile appearing on his face. ‘You wanna do something really fun?’ He asked ‘You know the best way to leave a waiter a crappy tip…’ he laughed picking up my water and stuffing a five dollar bill beneath the ice. My smile brightened as I realised what he was doing. Once the bill was swimming in the glacial water Samuel placed one of the plastic place mats over the cup; creating a seal. Then he flipped the glass over with the placemat underneath and lowered the contraption until it was on the table. Sending me one more adrenalin filled smiled he seized the place mat from underneath the cup.
            ‘Let’s go let’s go!’ said Samuel grabbing my arm and darting me out of the restaurant. Looking back I could hear our waiter yelling for us to come back as we hadn’t paid for the beer.
            ‘F**k you! You Irish douchebag!’ hollered Samuel as he swept me down the street. My heart was pounding as he laughed hysterically.
            ‘He won’t be able to do nothing! He’s got to pick that glass up…’ He giggled and we said our good byes.
            It was later now and the crimson sky had turned into a purple labyrinth of clouds and smoke. The air was colder and crisper as I made my way to the bus stop. Oh my god! Christina… you have a car. You never have to walk again. I thought changing my direction entirely and returning to the Toyota. Igniting the engine, I blared the music and drove home. Today had been a good day; a good day indeed. Tomorrow would be even better. Better by anyone’s standards and tomorrow marked the beginning of my shopping spree as I had enough cash left over to purchase some fabulous clothing.

 

            My alarm clock drummed sporadically waking me from my slumber. The bright sky shone in at me astonishing me with its beauty as I tiredly got out of bed. Removing the blankets from my legs I checked my phone, realising I had two missed messages. One was from Samuel and the other Cherry. Opening the first one from Cherry I read on. Hey b***h. I betta see your hot a*s at school today. No skiping! Let’s go for lunch. Aaron’s got his car and he just got paid so we can get Chao Ming’s. Aaron was Cherry’s boyfriend of six months. He was a befuddled twenty one year old who clearly had a kindling to young blond girls with ample bosoms. Sometimes it worried me to think how much older he was then her. Opening the second message, from Samuel, I giddied with delight. Yo biddy. Good news, I got the stuff last night and tons of it too. This retard didn’t see it coming but he sold me his whole script for twenty bucks. I’ll leave half in your locker and we can go from there. I chuckled.
            Smiling I plugged my iPod into the docking station playing American boy by Estelle. Leaping from my bed I danced around my room in happiness. My coordination was severely lacking as I tripped over my bed frame, stubbing my toe. The tenant above me stomped on my roof yelling for me to quiet down. I giggled and turned the volume down.
            Upon completion of my ruthless makeup regime I selected the best outfit from my closet and made my way out to the parking lot where I saw my baby waiting for me. Wow, it was easier than I had expected to produce nicknames for inanimate objects. Hopping in, I drove out of the parking lot, turning onto Brusler; the main street taking me to my school. The roads were slippery and wet as the sunshine had melted the small amounts of snow creating a mess of slushy grime.
            As I pulled into the school I parked near the back and made my way for the doors. If my classmates saw that this was my car it wouldn’t really matter too much. Certainly it was better than being seen exiting a bus. Students marched the school like ants swarming around the nest. Wind whipped past my face in a frenzied swirl of snowflakes. From a distance I could see Ashley pulling into the parking lot; all members of The Fab Five present in her Mercedes. I watched as the girls frantically laughed in high pitched screams, giggling back and forth. Disgusted I turned my direction back to the school.

            In sweet anticipation my mission was to get to my locker to feast my eyes upon the package Samuel said he had left me. Once there, I swung the hinged door open and gazed at my belongings. On the metallic surface at the bottom of the locker was a baggy filled with yellow tablets. Scanning the hallway ensuring nobody was look I sheepishly kneeled down and picked up the baggy. There were forty five beautiful pills contained in it that sent shivers of excitement down my spine. I held the plastic parcel tightly in my fingers, keeping my hands in my locker and my hips covering the view of those who passed.
            ‘Hiya Christina!’ shouted Lisa Briggs, a short Asian girl with a pug nose and inklings of black whiskers that lay above her mountainous lips. She had seemed to materialise from thin air protruding her annoying face into my train of thought. ‘Would you like to sign up for this year’s beauty awards? Mrs. Cotes is running it and there’s a chance to win two gift certificates to The Science Centre.’ Lisa’s voice was laced with an infuriating lisp as she occasionally sprayed a spit particle in my direction. Brandishing a yellow flyer from her saddle bag she handed it to me. Zombie like I grabbed it, lazily placing it in my locker.
            ‘No Lisa…’ my tone trite and blatant, ‘I don’t want to join the thing you’re talking about.’ I said closing my locker and quickly concealing the baggy in my pocket.
            ‘Oh cause you know this year…’ She went on her tiny legs whipping back and forth as she practically ran to keep up with me.
            ‘No Lisa! I have to go to class.’ Lisa stopped as I continued leaving her in my trail. I could sense her disappointment as she said.
            ‘Well okay… but tell me if you change your mind.’ And then she buzzed around until she’d find her next victim to annoy. Lisa Briggs adored me simply because she knew how smart and capable I was. She was one of those nit-picky grade oriented daughters constantly living in the disappointment of her overbearing Chinese mother.
            My day zoomed by and soon I was on my way to meet Cherry for lunch

Author's Note

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