The Popularity Project (Originally on Quotev)

Chapter Three

Something is attacking me.
 
That was my first thought when I was startled awake at what felt like two in the morning. My eyes groggily opened as a white thing came flying down upon me again. It wasn't hard, per say, but it definitely hurt upon impact. "Get up lazy bones. It's your first day of school."
 
My vision focused and I just barely made out my sister in the harsh light. "Nancy!" I dragged out her name dramatically, "What do you mean? Why did you wake me up at the ungodly hour of," I paused to read the clock beside me, "seven thirty."
 
"Because it's a school day. Remember, Abigail?" I stared at my older sibling. My brain felt like mush. "Dude. Your plan." She gave me a 'Duh' look, "And you're going to be late."
 
It all hit me like a tsunami. School. Project. Popular. Abigail. False identity. "Shoot! Why didn't you wake me up earlier?" I darted around the room, throwing on the items of clothing I had carefully picked out last night, a purple tank top and destroyed denim jacket with white jeans.
 
Nancy shrugged, "I've been trying every half hour since six." I struggled to juggle my curling iron and mascara wand, forever grateful of my ability to multitask easily. "Anyway good luck, I have to get to work. You might want to set your alarm clock louder though." 
 
A few minutes later the door slammed and I was just about ready. School started around eight but I needed to get there early to grab my schedule and stuff. I'm sure I'll have all the same classes because I talked to Uncle Kyle, I have to play the part of lost new girl though.
 
I had done the math of how far school was away from here and it turned out to be only a five minute walk. Five minutes or not though, I was terribly out of shape and sort of struggling to breath when I reached the front entrance. I made a note to myself to go running more, not that I would. The office was pretty quiet, only the receptionist and a girl dressed in all black staring at the floor. As I walked up, Ms. Damon, the extremely old school receptionist, didn't take her eyes off of the computer screen.
 
"Hello. How may I help you." When she talks it's in a monotone so even questions sound like statements. 
 
I blinked, still feeling tired, "Uh, hi. I'm Abigail Taylor, I need my schedule?"
 
She was starting to scare me, she hadn't even blinked yet or anything. I haven't really been near the office or talked to her during the last three or so years. "Yes. Take a seat. Amber will be here soon. I hope you enjoy our school." She handed me some papers, probably my locker number and schedule. Just as I had thought, my classes and locker were the same.
 
I took a seat next to the Goth girl who had a backpack sat at her feet. She had heavily make-uped eyes, "Hey, are you new here too?"
 
She opened her mouth to reply when someone came bursting though the door which connected the school to the office. "HELLO NEW STUDENTS!" Something clicked in my brain. Amber is what the Ms. Damon said. "My name is Amber Chance. I am the president of the senior class and your future prom queen. Welcome to Lockton!" This is why I've always hated cheerleaders, too much pep.
 
The girl next to me rolled her eyes before grabbing her bag and standing. I followed her lead, "Hi! I'm Abigail. So you're the president? That's like, so cool! I can't wait until prom, it's going to be weird going and not knowing anyone though." The Goth girl rolled her eyes again. Jeez, well sorry, I'm playing a part. It has to be realistic.
 
"May." She mumbled. I just caught a glimpse of black braces under her purple-painted lips.
 
Amber sniffed in her direction before flashing her biggest I-was-a-child-beauty-pageant-winner smile. "Okay well let's go! You're going to love Lockton Abigail, hey can I call you Abby?" I nodded and grinned, messing with one of my curls as we walked down a hallway that was slowly filling up with people. "Cool. Okay your locker is number five-one-seven which is right there." She pointed across in the direction in which my old locker was, "I suggest disinfecting it. A real ugly girl used to have that." We laughed together, Amber's was probably real, before I half-skipped to the opposite wall where lines of blue lockers were.
 
"Abby we're going to go find May's locker, 'kay? I'll be back in a second to take you to your first class." Poor May was struggling to keep up with Amber's big strides. I didn't think it would be that easy for people to start being nicer to me just because I was good looking. This really was going to be a fun paper to write.
 
"Abby! I'm back. Okay so your first class is on the same floor as May's which is awesome. Ms. Kelly rocks, you're going to love her." Amber's annoyingly high pitched voice was back. It shocked me so much that I almost dropped my binder which I had removed from my bag. I replied something equally enthusiastic as she lead us up a flight of stairs. "May, your class is right there, number two-two-three. Abby yours is down here, next to mine." She showed us to the rooms and waved, ducking into her own.
 
I'd barely taken a step into my first period when Ms. Kelly addressed me, "Hello. Are you Abigail?"
 
"Yes. It's nice to meet you, Ms. Kelly right?" I handed her my schedule.
 
The old teacher nodded, "Pleasure to have you in our class Miss Taylor. Now lets see, where can we sit you?" She scanned the seating chart, "Oh Kyle please raise your hand."
 
Kyle Bennett, a rich football player sat near the middle of the room, stuck his hand half-way up. I'd seen him around of course, he rarely seemed to really do anything bad. He hung around with several of the 'rebels' but never got in trouble. "Over here." I hesitantly walked to the desk next to him and placed my bag on the floor.
 
"Hello." I smiled slightly, taking the seat. It was strange, I'd never actually talked to him before. Ms. Kelly began her daily lecture. Today it was on the beginning of world war two, a topic we'd discussed to a huge mass of detail yet she still insists on repeating the same information.
 
Kyle leaned over to my desk and whispered, "Where you from?" 
 
I strained against telling him a 'are' is needed in the sentence he just said, "California. Are you originally Floridian?"
 
He nodded and scribbled down a few notes of what Ms. Kelly was saying, "Born and raised."
 
I settled down more into my cold plastic chair, trying to get comfortable. Ms. Kelly had finished her recapping and moved on to something else, "I'll be giving you a packet to work on with the neighbor to your right. Students at the end join up with the person on the opposite end of your row. Use chapter five in your textbooks if you don't remember the answers."
 
The pages were given down and I turned to Kyle, "Are you any good at history?"
 
He shrugged and sent me a smirk, "Not to brag but I'm on the honor role."
 
I gave him a look that I'd seen mastered by hundred of other girls, a mixture between flirtatious and friendly, "I see you're a really modest person."
 
Kyle grinned and we began the packed, swapping answers and occasionally getting into arguments over the questions. "No I'm telling you! It was President Woodrow not Harding!" My voice was getting higher every time I tried to convince him of who was president during the second world war.
 
"Miss Taylor, it's great to see you're ecstatic about history but please keep it down." I sunk in my seat as I felt my cheeks warm, I hated being called out on.
 
Kyle held bit back a chuckle, "Just look it up in the book. You'll see I'm right. I bet you I can find proof before you."
 
I crossed my arms, my embarrassment wearing out, "What do I get if I'm right?"
 
He though for a second, "If you're right you can sit at my table for lunch today but if I'm right then you have to sit by yourself like a loner and deny any invitations to other tables."
 
My face turned smug as we shook on it, "Deal." Both of us grabbed a textbook quickly and set to look for the answer to the question. My eyes scanned the page before finally resting on a sentence. I tapped Kyle on the shoulder, "On page 589 it says very clearly in black and white, 'Woodrow Wilson was the president at the time of World War Two.'"
 
He tried to cover his happiness with disappointment as he shrugged, "What you going to do? Guess you have a free pass to sit at the cool table for lunch. We sit near the middle-ish, just look for a bunch of tall guys and girls in cheerleading uniforms."
 
I smiled, "See you then."
 
Step two, infiltrate their environment, in progress.