I throw on some clothes, always baggy and look at the puffy skin under my eyes…also always baggy. For a second, I care but then I roll my eyes…
"You're the only one that cares, Spot."
Downstairs my mom hands me a cup of coffee, kisses my head, and runs out the door. All she's good for is coffee. She doesn't talk much, and when she does its drunken "I'm better than you" banter so I usually walk away. I mix in the Sweet and Low and smile. Kids across town are drinking Starbucks and eating bagels, filling there bodies with disgusting food. But I'll be walking to school fresh and empty. What a perfect feeling.
The hallways are crowded but I find my friends immediately. We are the popular ones and everyone hates us. There are roughly twenty of us and the football players and smart kids roll their eyes everyday as we remind them that we are both jocks and geeks but with better clothes and hair. We listen to good music, but we can dance to the crappy music at the prom. Members of the opposite sex think we're hot, but respect us. We're the kids you hate because you're not invited to our parties or because you don't understand our hidden jokes. Everyone at NPHS is dying for one of our cheesy nicknames.
You'd think being a part of this group would give me some sense of self-confidence. That would make sense; however, it is not true. Instead I am jealous of my best friends and fellow soccer players because Jack has all-American good looks, Mush has an amazing body, Race is funny, and David is smart.
I am…cocky. I am boring. I am silent when I should speak. But most of all I have a bad temper. My anger can never be controlled.
So I control what goes into my mouth.
The boys give me the typical boy welcome, a handshake modified by MTV. The girls all give me hugs.
Why does everyone always flirt with me?
Lauren is particularly obnoxious this morning. She kisses me on the cheek and makes sure that I notice that the wife beater she is wearing must be for an extra small young boy. I try to be nice but it's hard. Lauren is sweet, her house is great for parties and she is gorgeous, but I am never in the mood for anyone to look at me the way she looks at me.
I walk off to homeroom, barely keeping my eyes open. Jessica catches up with me and hands me a note folded into a little square.
