Okay, hey everyone. Been thinking about this one all night, and I'm pretty sure I dreamt about it some too :) Since I've written two oneshots that people have seemed to like, I'm going to see how I do…on a non-oneshot.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Clique.
She could never pinpoint the exact reason why she was here right now.
Maybe it was because she wasn't as goddamn pretty as Alicia, maybe it was because she didn't have Massie's quick wit and sharp comebacks. Or maybe it was because she wasn't a kick ass soccer star like Kristen, and yes, she was even jealous of Claire Lyons. Claire Lyons of all people! The one who had come to Westchester dressed like a kid from Barney, the one who had had red paint smeared all over her ass, the one who still cried at night about Cam Fisher, who as everyone knew was out of her league. But still, Claire had a beautiful innocence to her, and Dylan didn't.
It was the end of 7th grade and yearbooks were being passed around and signed. Being as popular as the Pretty Committee, none of the girls had even seen their yearbooks all day. Finally, finally the coveted books were passed back to the right hands. Massie opened hers. There wasn't a single white space; everyone had crammed their names in hopes that Massie Block might remember them next year.
She read aloud, "'Massie, you kick ass! And you have the best clothes out of anyone I know'! Awww, that was sweet. 'Massie Block, your comebacks are what make me keep on living.' 'Kay that was slightly creepy, but nice all the same."
She snapped hers shut as Kristen opened hers. Hers, too, was covered in writing.
"Kristen, you're my idol, I wish I could play soccer the way you do." She smiled and continued reading, "Go Sirens! You are the best soccer player in the whole world."
Alicia and Claire took the time as Kristen was ranting on to look in their books. Alicia's, obviously, was filled with 'omg you are so beautiful' and 'where can I get your conditioner?', but what was surprising was that even Claire's was filled up. Being in a movie sure did boost your popularity.
Dylan slowly opened her book expecting maybe 'I love your hair' or 'I love your purses', instead what greeted her were little bits of messy handwriting on an almost blank page. The unfamiliar scrawls read things like 'I love the TPC' and 'you're pretty cool'. Her heart shattered. Was there really nothing to say about Dylan Marvil? Although she didn't show it, maybe this was what started it all.
Maybe she was here because of her mother. Her mother, Merri-Lee Marvil, host of the Daily Grind, writer of the novel Life as a Host, Oscar Awards Ceremony regular; it was quite a mouthful. Next to her mother, Dylan felt plain, Dylan felt ugly. Due to over two hundred grand worth of surgery, Merri-Lee certainly did make Dylan look ugly. With C-cup boobs, usually barely contained in her blouse, and a perky A butt, Merri-Lee was almost an embarrassment to call a mother. But most of all, people used Dylan.
"Hey," an A-list hawwttie said gruffly to Dylan.
"Hey, yourself," she said coyly with a giggle.
"So what's a gorgeous lady like you doing all alone in the corner of the biggest party of the year?" he asked with a wink.
"Well, let's just put it this way. The lady with the big boobs grinding on every man in the house, is well…My mother." Dylan grimaced.
"Oh. Well. That can certainly ruin the best party ever." He chuckled.
"But there's always a cute guy to turn the party around," Dylan looked at him pointedly.
"Want to dance?"
"Thought you'd never ask."
Dylan spent the next two hours dancing, drinking, and just talking with 'Drew'. Then his drunken friend walked over. What came out of his mouth shattered the mood.
"Dude! When I said find someone famous' daughter, I didn't think you would get Merri-Lee Marvil's daughter. That's fucking perfect!" He laughed and stumbled away.
"Dylan I-" Drew began.
"Save it, dumbass."
Maybe she was here because she was fat. There was no other way to put it. Pudgy, round, large, big-boned; either way she was fat, F-A-T, fat. Her friends were all petite little size zeros (save for Alicia because her boobs just couldn't get into that), while Dylan just barely managed getting into a size four. It didn't help that when she was younger her favorite animal had been a pig. Every year for Halloween, Dylan would squeeze into a cute little pig costume and wander around her extravagant neighborhood. People soon began just referring to her as Piggy. The nickname stuck.
"Pig, Pig, Piggy," the kids on the playground pointed at Dylan, screaming and laughing.
"I'm NOT a pig!" Dylan hollered with determination.
"Yes you are, yes you are." They teased with pleasure.
"I'm not even fat!"
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not!"
"Yes you are."
Dylan ran to the bathroom, tear streaming down her face. She propped herself up on one of the toilets and continued crying. Was she really fat? She opened the tiny palms of her hands. Blurred by the salty tears, each finger looked round and doughy. 'My fingers look like sausages', she thought with disgust, sobbing all the more harder and harder.
Five years later, she was stuck in the same position. Kemp and Chris' emails had really hit a home run. The word Piggy just triggered something in her that made her want to lash out at the world.
Whatever the reason, Dylan Marvil was here.
Dylan Marvil was on the third floor, D-wing bathroom of BOCD, on her knees, vomiting the contents of her lunch into the inviting, white toilet bowl.
Oh wow, that was certainly long for me. So give me some feedback please, and tell me if you want me to write more, because if you don't, I guess I could end this here…?
Anyways you guys all rock. REVIEW, LOVES!
Michelle :)