Memories

Memories: Chapter 10

I arrived at school on time, having a few minutes to spare to lone in halls. I hitched my back pack onto my shoulder for what seemed like the billionth time in my short life, and made my way through the parking lot.

            Once again, my usual spot had been taken by the ever shiny car. Like yesterday, there were girls flaunting themselves at the owner of said ever shiny car. Again, their apparel was ridiculously inappropriate, but who was I to tell them off? If they wanted to show off what they had, I guess they could. Not my problem.

            Just hope they don’t come running to me when they rip their miniskirts into from the fitness of their bouncy little butts; and when their skinny, tight, show-and-tell V-Neck and dip shirts suffocate them or also tear in two; and when their leather, stuck-like-glue leggings and designer skinny skinny jeans cut off all circulation in their legs; and when their little-left-for-imagination dresses finally tall to the ground and leave them au natural (because you know that they weren’t wearing much more, to be honest, it’s so small for them). ‘Cause if they do, they better be prepared for a big, fat, “I flipping told you so” in their snotty little faces.

            I wanted to smack myself right then in there for how childish I was.

            Maybe I was just jealous.

            Or maybe they’re all really just a bunch of—

            I realized something then. The eye-candy, center of it all, circled by those vicious hybrid vulture-cats, was being slightly revealed from the top the crowd. My eyes could just make out blond locks that were brushed in to look disheveled and messy in that cute way, but some of us don’t have (please stand by) for brains, and know for a fact that he spends way too much (again, please stand by) time in his (I don’t think that I have to say it a third time) huge mirror and comes it to look exactly like that.

            Then it all came back to me yesterday. I suddenly blushed. Oh my god . . . I actually did that? What could have possessed me to do that? Me, for god sakes, of all people. I don’t do those kinds of things. Then again, there’s never been a time that I would ever have needed to.

            And he deserved it! I thought lastly with a stubborn feel.

            Then, my slow little mind seemed to realize something; as the giggling, flirtatious group of cat-vultures (and yes, that it exactly what they are) moved around, parting just enough for one to see, I noticed that the blond I had encountered in the parking lot yesterday was the guy in the crowd.

            Which means he’s the owner of the car.

            Which means he parked that car there.

            Which means he stole my spot.

            Which means I’m very, very, very angry, because of said stealing of said spot that is — mine.

            I wanted to storm up there. I wanted to push through that crowd. I wanted to send every one of those cat-vultures flying down the pavement. I wanted to turn to him, and smack him in his pretty face, and hit him in his athlete-material knee-caps, and jump on his designer shoes, and ruin his expensive shirt, and give never-erasable grass stains to his Calvin Klein jeans.

            Alas, I am not that kind of girl.

            At least, I’m not supposed to be. I’m a nobody; an outsider; nothing. I doubt if anyone realizes that I was another person who was taking up the air that they were breathing. I don’t even think they noticed me when they knocked me over in the hallways.