The Cheerleaders were huddled in a tight circle to her far left, each mindless airhead sporting their uniforms; a navy blue, pleated skirt with a red, white and blue thick band at the bottom with a vest that cut off at the bottom in a V, that showed each one's belly button. The colors of the vest were divided in half by a V shaped cut, with the top part of the vest was bright white, with the word Patriots in blue, cursive writing across the chest. The bottom half was the same color blue as the skirt. Everyone's parents were either high paid, top-notch lawyers or doctor's with MD's and a bank account that would have Micheal Jackson gapping in awe at the endless amount of zero's.
Each one had names that began with A and each one had a boyfriend in at least one sports team; they reminded her of manufactured Barbie and Ken sets. The Cheerleaders biggest dream? Becoming a world-wide, skinbearing pop Diva, with a Freddie Prinze Jr. look-alike boyfriend.
Next to the Cheerleaders were the Thespians and Drama Club Freaks. They all dressed in plain, black clothes from the Gap and their conversations consisted of arguments involving college vocabulary and of course, Shakespeare was thrown in every few minutes. They drank black coffee each morning and spent their weekends cooped up in their bedrooms, typing up the "next big hit" for Steven Spielberg on highly expensive, Dell laptops their parents had bought them for Christmas presents.
In the middle of the whole circus, social sideshow were the thugs. They all dressed in their favorite sports team's jersey with jeans, compliments of Sean John, that were so large, they could house a family of six. They were never seen in the public eye without their blindly sparkling, diamond chains and their arm protectively wrapped around the shoulder of their current girlfriend.
Then there was the regulars, as she liked to call them. They were the majority of the school, yet the desired minority, that weren't in the popular group but not outcasts either. The weren't the next Einstein�s of America's future, yet had more intelligence than a block of wood and all the cheerleaders put together. They were, plain and simple, just average.
The next group, which was only a small handful, was the nerds/losers of Bronson Alcott. This select few all still thought pocket protectors were hip and Star Treck was the ultimate show of all TV shows ever created. Their shoes squeaked when they took a step and their thick glasses usually kept sliding off the end of their noses. A weekend of fun to them meant completing all their assigned homework plus extra credit then practicing quantum physics for a stress reliever.
The second to last group, or should she say guy, was the Rebel/Bad Boy of the school. His beatup, jet black, leather jacket was a trademark along with his witty, acid comebacks to the teacher. He had more absent days than a fourth of the student population put together. He smoked, drank, had at least a minimum of ten tattoos and was basically the guy you're parents feared you'd bring home and be the cause of an early heart attack.
Finally, there was them. She figured a more clearer name would be "freaks" or "goths", although she hated to put a label on herself. They were stereotypically the scary kids, the ones the cheerleaders turned their noses up on, looked down on in disgust and the ones the rest of the population tried to avoid. Well, except for the Rebel of the school. He didn't take crap for anybody.
So all in all, she guessed you could call Bronson Alcott just another pebble on the ground. There wasn't anything odd about it or anything to write it down in a memorable history of high schools.
Her gaze snapped away from her fellow peer's and to him. She didn't even know why she bothered to waste her time on him because obviously he never wasted his time on her. He was the God, the Adonis of the school. The kind of guy every girl wanted, every girl needed, every girl dreamed would sweep her off her feet and prove that love at first site did truly exist.
Well, except for her.
She hated him, with his spiky, sunkissed blond hair and green eyes. She hated him for the fact he could make any head turn when he walked into the room. She hated him, with his never-ending list of friends. She hated that not only was he attractive but he was smart. He had the fourth highest GPA in the entire senior class and practically had every Ivy League college pounding on his front door.
He was the golden child and she hated him.
"Hey, Raven, are you coming?" her best friend Alicia called. Raven's icy eyes immediately darted away from him and to her friend. She forced a half hearted smile on her face and nodded.
Alicia Evans had chin-length, straight, fine, jet black hair that at the moment, had bright fuschia streaks in it. Her open, hazel eyes were caked with dark blue, shimmery, eye shadow. Her pale, ivory skin had gotten a little tan over the summer. She was wearing a long, flowing black skirt with a tight, baby blue shirt with a picture of the Powerpuff girls on it. Her shoes were beatup, dirt crusted, black Vans and each of her arms had an assortment of bracelets, forming a rainbow of colors all the way up to her elbow. Her nose proudly displayed a tiny, diamond stud and each ear had two holes and their cartilage pierced. Raven thought she was the coolest person she had met in her sixteen years of living.
Alica had been Raven's best friend since kindergarten. They had shared everything from clothes to boys and had formed a sister-like connection over the past years. Alicia had been Raven's shoulder to cry on when she was down and the first one to hear about any news in her life. They knew practically everything about one another and could finish one another's sentences.
She gracefully slid down from the huge wall that ran along the side of the school and ended at the curb, grabbing her backpack at the same time. Raven slowly dragged herself toward Alicia, wishing already she could escape to the security of her home, crawl back into the covers and pretend it wasn't the first day of her senior year.
<Look on the bright side...184 more days until summer vacation>, she sarcastically thought to herself. Raven glanced at Alicia, a knowing grin on her face.
"What's up with the sudden Cheshire cat expression?" Raven questioned, a little confused at her friend's odd behavior.
"Aw don't lie Rave, you were staring at Pretty Boy again, weren't you?" Alicia demanded, using the nickname they had given him.
Raven scrunched up her nose and vigorously shook her head.
"Girl, what have you been smoking?! That is just disgusting! I was merely observing the entire student body, not just Mr. Eminem Wannabe over there", Raven firmly explained.
Raven usually called him Mr. Eminem Wannabe because back in his sophomore year, he had dyed his hair a glowing blond, so blond you could classify it has white.
Alicia rolled her eyes.
"Sure you were", Alicia skeptically replied. Raven let out a huff of frustration. She really didn't feel like arguing with Alicia because once she got an idea into her head, she wouldn't drop it for awhile.
"You keep telling yourself that", Raven muttered.
The bell rang just then, marking the starting of the first day of high school.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Lance Bass slowly walked to his homeroom class with his best friend, as students squeezed past them.
"So Lance, did you hook up with anyone this summer?" Justin Timberlake questioned, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously.
"Very funny. You know I'm with Amber", Lance replied, referring to the most popular girl in Bronson Alcott high school and his girlfriend of a year and a half, Amber Anderson.
Justin laughed.
"I know, I know. I was just wondering cause she was all the way in California and you were here...", Justin answered, trailing off.
Lance gave him a light shove.
"Unlike you, Timberlake, I can control my hormones and keep a girl more than three days", Lance joked.
Justin held up his hands in defense.
"Hey hey, watch it now. It's not my fault I'm irresistible. I'm just giving a fair chance for all the many women that want me", Justin explained. Lance rolled his green eyes.
"The only women you've hooked up with is that twenty year old lifeguard when we were in the sixth grade and that's because you faked drowning so she could give you CPR", Lance answered laughing.
"Hey at least I got chicks who want me. The only girl you've been out with is Amber", Justin jokingly scoffed.
"Hey are you saying the only girl that wants me is Amber?" Lance questioned in fake disbelief.
Justin chuckled.
"Dude, she's got you whipped."
"Shut up, Godly Locks. I know this is such a shock to you but I actually want to be with only Amber. Besides, even though I'm with Amber I can still get any girl I want", Lance smugly shot back.
Justin sadly shook his head.
"I guess there isn't any hope for you. Unless..." Justin trailed off, a sudden idea springing into his mind.
"Unless what?" Lance curiously questioned.
"Unless you can prove me wrong", Justin finished, a sly grin on his face.
"Prove you wrong? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Lance asked in confusion.
"Here's the deal. You think you're so smooth, right? But I bet you can't get just any girl, like you so fondly like to brag about", Justin challenged.
"A bet, huh? What are the terms?" Lance asked.
"Well, the homecoming dance is coming up, right?" Justin hinted.
"Yeah, so?"
"So, I pick the girl and you have six weeks to turn her into your new girlfriend and the Homecoming Queen", Justin explained.
"New girlfriend? What about Amber?" Lance asked.
"Hey, hey I never said it was for real. Just tell Amber about our little bet and I'm sure she'll understand all the sparks between you and the fortunate or unfortunate victim is fake", Justin suggested.
Lance scratched his chin, lost in thought. Justin was right. Just because whoever they picked was suddenly his new arm candy didn't mean he actually liked her.
"Ok. But what happens if I loose?" Lance questioned. Justin grinned.
"If you lose, I get that new Mercedes Benz you just got for your birthday. If you win, I'll play servant for the rest of the school year; I'll wash your clothes, do your homework, clean your car and basically do some major ass kissing", Justin explained.
"Give you my car!? Are you fuckin crazy?" Lance exclaimed. Justin nonchalantly shrugged.
"Hey, you said yourself you could get any girl in the school, so it shouldn't be too hard, right?" Justin calmly replied. Lance bit his bottom lip, pondering the idea. True, it wouldn't take the efforts of a brain surgeon to get a girl but he couldn't help thinking about the consequences if he failed. He finally decided and sighed.
"OK."
"You'll do it, you'll go through with this?" Justin asked in shock, his eyes a little wide. Lance nodded.
"Well, I didn't expect this but if you're sure..."
"Yeah, I'm sure."
"OK then, it's settled. I pick the girl and you have six weeks to turn her into Miss Popular", Justin triumphantly announced. The friends both shook on the deal, making the bet final.
"I've got the perfect girl in mind for this little operation", Justin replied, rubbing his hands together, his eyes darting around the various groups of people.
"Uh oh, I don't like the sound of that", Lance answered, slightly worried. Justin laughed.
"The girl I pick is...Raven Kenzington."
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