You go through life with your head held high, and long strides letting everyone know that you're ready. You're prepared. For any thing that comes at you.
You gather a clique that support you throughout high school and that help keep up your "Queen Bitch" status. You're important. And you're happy.
Today though you're alone. You're looking at your nails trying not to listen to the woman sitting next you; tapping her ugly brown heels on the cold tiled floor, or the bored sixteen year old beside you who's popping her bubbilicious bubble gum.
Today you're waiting for them to call out your name so you can just get this over with. You skipped cheerleading practice again to come here and you just know that Possible will give you hell for it but right now you just don't care.
To pass the time you check your pretty new cellphone that daddy gave you for your birthday last month. A text from Tara wondering where you were, one from Kim wondering what the hell you thought you were doing missing practice, one from Clea asking what you were wearing to next week's party, and a voicemail from Brick.
"Samantha Cruz?"
The sixteen year old beside you gives a nervous twitch before getting up. As she follows the woman through the blue doors she spits out her gum at a passing trash can. You think you see a steak of pink as it goes by.
You delete all your messages, without even listening to Brick's, and turn off your cellphone. As soon as you do you feel lonely. You wish you had asked somebody to come with you…but of course you didn't.
You didn't think it would be this hard coming here by yourself but it is. You think maybe you should have at least had told Tara, she's not one to badmouth you. But Tara has certain ideals and you doubted teen pregnancy would have been one of them. Maybe your sisters perhaps? But Connie and Lonnie wouldn't be very supportive. At the most they wouldn't tell your parents and hold it over you for the rest of their lives. And your parents! That would have been a funny conversation you think. You'd be out in the streets in seconds. Asking Brick would be…laughable. And the sign of a true desperate woman.
"Bonnie Rockweiller?"
That's you, and you're scared shitless. You check your purse and make sure you have the money.You idly wonder whether or not daddy really bought the whole "My team needs new uniforms" tale.
The woman looks impatient so you regain your composure and stalk towards her. Your walk is a bit shaky, but it'll do.
"Right through here sweety." She says not at all sweetly.
You return the strained grimace meant as a smile with a toss of your sweet smelling honey colored hair.
"It's about fucking time." You go through the blue doors not waiting for a response.