Avoiding The Bad Boy

Part 1

Part 1

Disaster strikes at the worst moments. When you are not ready for it. When you think life is going to go smooth. That is when disaster chooses to strike, and it leaves you crying and begging for the time to fly by.

For me, disaster struck on the first day of classes.

"Tracey!" I groaned my best friend's name, as I eyed the soccer ball sized pimple on my forehead, just above my  left eyebrow. God, I did not need this right now. It was the first day of my Sophomore year at Burswick Academy and it started off with a big, fat pimple on my head. I was doomed.

"What is it, Brielle? Why are you groaning so early in the morning?" Tracey asked, buttoning her white shirt.

"There is a pimple on my head! What am I going to do?! It's so big, I can't even hide it," I complained, cursing God for giving everybody else but me the gift of flawless skin.

"Let me finish putting on my uniform, and I'll help you," she said from her end of the room.

"Class is going to start in half an hour, hurry up!" I ordered.

"Finish tying your hair, I'm almost ready," Tracey replied.

"How can you expect me to focus on my hair when there is a pimple the size of Jupiter on my face?" I turned around to glare at my best friend, who just finished putting her blonde hair in a ponytail. Her hair was so soft and shiny it made me jealous. And don't even me started on her skin. Flawless. I was so jealous of her flawless skin, especially right now.

Tracey rolled her eyes at my remark. "Must you always be so dramatic, Brielle?" And then her blue eyes widened as she gazed at my pimple, which had tears pricking my eyes. This was going to be the worst day ever. "Okay, we need to work on that."

"Jee, thanks! I did not realize that!" I seethed. I glanced at the clock sitting on the nightstand between mine and Tracey's bed. It told me that ten minutes have already passed, which left me with twenty minutes to hide the stupid pimple and run to my class.

"Alright, calm down. I may have a concealer in here somewhere." Tracey opened her closet and begun looking for her magic products, the ones that might make this hideous pimple go away. While she was busy searching, I turned to stare at the pimple some more. Yes, I was a masochist.

It was sitting right above my eyebrow. Its face, ugly and pink. No, it was red. Okay, it was pink, and it was hideous. And it was big. I did not need a big, fat pimple on my face on the first day of my Sophomore year, it was a disaster; and it hit my superstition. I believed if the first day of the new academic was not great, then the whole year would not be great. And I needed this year to be perfect.

"Alright, I found my concealer. Let's hide that pimple," Tracey announced, coming up to me.

"Yes, please, hurry. I'll be late for class," I murmured as she begun applying the concealer over my pimple.

"Bri, you worry too much. You are never late for class and you never will be. One would have to tie you up to a horse's leg and even then you will manage to break free and make it to class on time," Tracey stated.

"Well, I can't help it. I hate being late. When you are late, you miss vital information, which means you increase your chances of failing in exams. And I can't take that risk," I responded.

"Hell will freeze over before you fail, Bri. Don't worry, and there. Your pimple is not so obvious anymore," Tracey said, taking a step back.

I looked at myself in the mirror, and sure enough, the ugly, pink thing on my forehead was not there anymore. I mean, it was there but it was not ugly and pink anymore. However, I could still see the remains of the bump.