The Virginity Pact

24 - pretty little liar

Sometimes, in an effort to spread the most outrageous rumors, we look over the very thing that's even more scandalous—the truth. And the only thing more shocking than the truth are the lies people tell to cover it up.

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Freshman year in English we read Shakespeare's well known tragedy Macbeth.

Basically, it's about a guy named Macbeth who's told by these witches that he's going to be the King of Scotland. Macbeth and his psycho wife get excited about the thought of all this royalty and power, so to speed things up they take matters into their own hands by murdering the king.

As a result, the two get their wish: they become king and queen of Scotland.

But does the blood and the drama stop there? Of course not--it's Shakespeare.

The two keep killing and the guilt starts to drive them both insane. Then Macbeth's wife, who Shakespeare creatively named Lady Macbeth, suddenly gets a sense of humanity and starts to actually feel bad for her hand in killing all these people. So bad, that she commits suicide.

On the other hand, Macbeth's cocky ass thinks he can't be defeated. And what happens to him right after he brags that no man can kill him? He's killed.

It's a story of how a man lets his ambition to climb this social hierarchy consume him, ultimately leading to his slaughter.

I'm Macbeth.

I sigh and twist uncomfortably in the back seat of the cop car, listening to the policemen in the front talk about how every year around prom they have to pick up dozens of kids for drunk driving.

"You're lucky you're alive," the one driving tells me. He has a harsh stern voice like he's talking to his daughter or something. "Could've been killed, you know that?"

I stay silent. As I was being led out the house Derek strictly ordered I'd not say anything at all. Aunt Lindsey said they'd be right behind me.

"She's not listening, Frank," the other cop says. His hair is dark brown and balding on the top. He must be a little older than the other guy--he has a full head of hair and few less wrinkles. "You know these rich kids think they're invincible. Think they can do whatever they want; that their money's just going to bail them out of all there problems."

Rich kids. The title is a little strange. Last school year I was just regular. Regular middle class like everyone else in my neighborhood, getting a $20 allowance at the end of the week, making $8 an hour working at the movie theater downtown. Now I'm wearing a prom dress worth a car and shoes that are worth a years pay at Cinemark.

Frank scoffs. "Well, money can't bail you out of a grave, that's for sure."

I roll my eyes at his response.

We arrive at the police station. It's not my first time. I remember talking to the cops back in North Dakota. I wasn't handcuffed, though. This is the the first time I've been handcuffed. The police knew my family. It was a small town and they'd known what happened with cara. Everyone knew. I couldn't escape it. Scott and Ryan had put a small bag of pills and weed in my bookbag for us to use after school one day. It fell out when I pulled out a book and I'd gone right from the principals office to the police station. They started asking me questions about the two boys almost immediately. They'd been in trouble before and everyone blamed them for my bad behavior since I had started hanging out with them. I pretty much just got a slap on the wrist because the drugs weren't mine and I didn't know they were in my bag. Scott got it the worst since he'd been caught more than a few times. 6 months in jail that he still blames me for.