The In List

Chapter two

Allie.

I was so desperate, so terribly desperate to be popular. I wanted to walk around, head held high, almost as high as the heels I would wear. But that thought, that one, little, seemingly harmless thought, is what caused this whole, big, vile thing. That thought, is what had created the list.

I was doing my daily routine, Staring at myself in the mirror. I was getting pretty tired, and wanted to sit down, but I wasn't going to sit down until I got at least three compliments. "I'm so fat. Which really sucks because I want a belly button ring," I said, make a disgusted face in the mirror. No one responded. so I let out a groan, and slapped my belly. Monica looked up from her magazine, and grumbled something like "Then get a freaking belly button ring."

I knew I was pretty, and I most certainly was not fat. I was almost skinny. and I knew that some of my girls were bigger than me, but I don't care. I wouldn’t ever care. I liked compliments. But if I ever told them, I swear they would beat me down. But I can't help it, considering I never get any at home. "Lose some weight, Ailiya." or "You can do better than a ninety in Math, Ailiya." or, the best, "You should put on more makeup, Ailiya. cover your face." It's not like they freaking give a damn, that I try my best in math. or I only eat one meal a day, or wear what seems like ten pounds of makeup a day. it's not like they would even bother to know that.

A light bulb flashed in my head, and I was almost positive a siren went off. this was summer of tenth grade, summer to be free, and wild, and brave. That summer, we were going to be popular. All it would take was a simple, little, list. A list that would make or break us. A list with things we would do, things we would try, to make us all popular. That list was going to get us popular. I walked over to Monica, took her magazine from under her hands, and threw it across the room.

"What's your problem, bitch?" Monica said, and gave me a look.

Me, being too excited to even get all the words out, said "we'll make a list."

Delli looked over, head crooked, "A what? why?"

"To be popular, we have to act popular. We'll make a list, with things we have to do over the summer. Things that will make or break us. Things that could change our high school lives."

Monica went silent. After a while, she looked up at me.

"What kind of things will we put on this list?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said, "But we can write it all down. what do you say?" I was nervous now, Monica was almost never quiet.

She looked down for a moment, looked at all of us, and turned back to me, and I sucked in a breath.

"Well," she said, a devious smile playing across her face, "I say this better get us in."

And that is where I like to say, the list was born.