"Don't do anything stupid."

I had promised I wouldn't, but we were American, and promises didn't mean shit anymore to us. Maybe he thought that the fact would change just because I was transferring to a private school in the land of four leaf clovers and rainbows.

An acceptance letter to St. Bartleby's was the last thing I expected to come into the mail. It had all started out as a stupid joke. One of my stupid friends- hence the stupid joke- had gotten a brochure in the mail for one of those fancy-ass schools. It had a picture of a boy that had model-good looks, sitting on a desk concentrating very hard on the book he was reading. Either that, or he was trying to rip a big one. My friends hated people like that. People who didn't know the real world if it came up to them and pissed on the their feet. They also hated the fact that the kid on the brochure had good looks none of them would ever have, because people like that just didn't exist.

All of my friends were boys, so I guess that made me a freak among the girl population in our school. At least, I think that was the case on the count of them giving my funny looks in the lunch line. Maybe the thought I was gay. Who knows?

Anyway- back to my guy friends that wasted their hatred on a boy they didn't know, a hatred they usually reserved for jocks and bitches. I didn't know why they were so sore about it anyway. None of them were bad looking. Not that I'd date any of them.

They didn't have serious flaws, like buck teeth, or an acne problem. They didn't wear dorky glassed. Well, except for Jacob, and they were Willy Wonka glasses, and they were used for the primary use of making people laugh.

Oh, I lie. I did have one chick friend. Her name was Jodie, and she was Asian. And every time we pulled a prank that involved computers, she made the obligatory- 'I hope you didn't bring the Asian kid along thinking she was a computer genius, because I'm not'- Joke.

So, anyway, in the middle of hating the brochure, and Max commenting on how breathtakingly gorgeous I was- which I wasn't- Mark had an end of the world moment. Seriously, Hitler rode on a dib-o-saurous on that moment. He came up with a half stupid, half funny joke, which wasn't something Mark did.

To put a long story short, we went to Frank's house and wrote several stupid letters to St. Bartleby's, explaining how much we wanted to attend. We really fucked up the stats with our crap, but I think it was my idea that screwed me over. I wrote that I wanted to attend St. B's so I can read long books. The problem, I wrote, was that my parents would hit me with books on occasion, so I kept my books short and paperback for my own safety.

They all liked my idea better, even though it was all bullshit and lies, so we ended up sending the goddamn thing. I didn't worry though. On the bottom of the pamphlet, it read: 'Since 1888 we have been molding boys into splendid, clear thinking young men.'

Too bad that the brochure failed to mention that just last year, they changed St. Bartleby's School for Young Gentlemen into St. Bartleby's School for Young Adolescents. That means St. B's started to believe that all sex's were created equal- it didn't matter if you pee'd standing up or sitting down or if you didn't pee at all.

I will forever laminate the day Max convinced my to use my real name on the envelope. "No worries," he said.

--

There was only one other option I had, not that I think about it, but it wasn't a decision I would choose. I was a lot of things, but jack ass wasn't one of them.

The option, of course, was not telling my parents. I couldn't do that to them. I get a full ride to a fancy boarding school, all expenses paid, the least I could do was give them a break. We weren't Richie rich as it was, and this would most certainly help them out. A lot.

So on the 2nd week of the end of summer, I had all of my things packed, and my mom had this thrilling idea to have a going away party before I left the country. She invited a lot of people, but only my guy friends and Jodie showed up. The whole party was spent watching Freddy Vs. Jason and Sleepaway Camp, and us bitching about pretty much everything. Then Frank started playing a couple of CKY songs on his guitar while we gathered on the living room floor, eating Lay's potato chips, and playing Uno. We all had a case of Social Disease, but I wouldn't spend my last day with my friends any other way.

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A/N: Everyone mentioned is my friend in real life. I love them so much. :D