She's not getting mad. She's getting even.
Lola Melese has it all: a great job, the worlds most entertaining best friend, a loving boyfriend and a squeaky clean reputation.
That is until her all-american boyfriend cheats.
Now, Lola's regarded as the...
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"YOU'RE PRACTICALLY JUMPING with glee at the plan," Johnny points out as we exit Ap Chemistry. His usually non-existent voice surprises me as I slip my eyes on to him.
"Do I jump?" It's a dumb question because I do, when playing basketball but my point still stands in this situation.
"Does he glee?" Brooke asks, hung up on the least important part of Johnny's statement.
"Do you think this is good though? We all know you were in love with her." He ignores the both of us, as we slip past yet another group of huddled friends who are conceited enough to stop walking in the middle of the hallway.
My smile falls as quickly as a house of cards. "I was never in love with her."
"Come on, Tate." Johnny begins, eyeing me with disbelief at my lack of awareness. "Not this again. I thought we accepted your feelings towards Lola when she first got with Whitaker. You were a mess."
I like him better silent.
"That never happened." It really did and I'd appreciate it if these people who are supposed to be my friends would stop bringing it up. It's pathetic to have to think about on a daily basis.
"You went on a two-week bender," Brooke finds the need to notify me as I wasn't aware.
"Swimming bender," I interject. "I'm not an alcoholic."
"You don't swim," Johnny says the same time that Brooke groans out "You looked like a fucked up prune!"
The latter begins to run his calloused fingers all over me. "This skin," Brooke touches my hands, my face, my arms, "Shouldn't prune. Especially not at the age when you're supposed to fuck your way through life."
I draw back from him with a cocked head. "I don't think that's what living is really about but it's nice knowing what life means to you."
"Oh my God," Brooke drops his head back and cries out to the hallway ceiling. "My guy, you have got to get laid. This talk of life and the circle of it and soul-fucking-seeing is getting me tensed up and I whacked one out this morning."
"That is so gross! And the next time you talk about your perverted sex life in the hallway how about you scan the crowd so you don't kill your younger sister with fucking blasphemy!" Myra Moore's raspy voice cuts through the air, which shuts up her older brother.
The sophomore is currently sporting what Brooke is calling 'karma' alongside a 'hermit-voice,' because of the back-to-back concerts she went to the week before school started. Truth be told, I don't know how the girl is still speaking.
Secretly, I wish she wasn't.
I'm already sporting a headache due to the rabid dog mom has forced upon me and its inability to sleep through the night without needing to pee all over my sheets.
