Chapter Two - The Arrival
Scarlet's POV
I show up to the party half an hour early, the first one there. Just the way I had planned.
"Hey!" I say seductively, "Need any help getting ready?"
"Nah, nah, I'm pretty sure I'm good. But thanks for showing up early. That's really cool of you, Sash."
"Oh, um, okay." Yeah, because this totally wasn't my plan at all. "Um, is there anything else you want to do?"
"Hehe, I'll think about it. Have some snacks, sweetcheeks. Okay?"
I sigh. "Okay." I pick up a potato chip and slip it between my red lips, satisfied by the crunch. "Good chips."
"Thanks."
"So…"
"So…"
There's a knock at the door. I open it to see the pale, ghastly face of Wilma White. Ugh. I forgot she was coming.
"I-I'm going to go to the bathroom," she stutters and hurries off immediately. I roll my eyes.
"Weirdo."
"I know right."
Another knock. Derek goes to open the door.
"Malcolm! Bro, you made it!"
"Of course! I couldn't let my bro down! Hey, Sash! Um, how're you doing, girl?" He gives me a flirtatious smirk and I smirk back. Maybe that'll get stupid Derek's attention. Guys are driven by jealousy, right? After all, they only want the most sought after prize.
"Doin' fine? And you?" Okay, so maybe I don't have any interest in Malcolm, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.
"Good. Yeah."
Ha. It's funny to see the school jock so awkward. I guess that's just the effect Miss Sasha Scarlet can have. Suddenly I remember Wilma White, who's been in the bathroom for at least fifteen minutes. "Oh, and Wilma's here."
"So?"
To an extent, I admire his lack of judgement. He's a nice guy, not shallow like me, and is much more accepting of everyone and everything. But he doesn't know what I've been through with Wilma. To be frank, no one does.
"Just saying," I smirk, "Good luck putting up with that." I playfully punch his shoulder in an attempt to be flirtatious.
"Ow!"
I sigh provocatively and saunter over to the couch to sit next to Derek. "Man up, quarterback." Winking, I lay my head on Derek's shoulder.
Mustard's POV
Oh dear lord. Here I am, the school jock and the quarterback of the football team, losing my mind over Sasha Seduction Scarlet. It's not just that, though. I mean yes, she can be shallow, but I'm not. At times she can be really sweet, which I like. It's not just her body or her master flirting skills or her full red lips. When she drops the queen bee act, she can be a really cool girl. I can't dare to say she doesn't have an effect on me.
And here I am, staring in awe at this seemingly flawless girl, in my best friend's living room while she lays her head on his shoulder. Honestly, of all people, why him?
At least they're not dating. Derek's told me many times that he can't imagine having feelings for Sasha. But he also says that he has to keep a long "potential mess-around-with list". By long I mean including basically every girl in school except for Wilma White - the ghostly, almost ethereal - girl who it's safe to say is aptly named, Peyton Peacock, basically the female equivalent of me who's, in Derek's words, is "way too much of a tomboy" (and basically all of the girl's soccer team, to be honest), and Lucy Ramirez, whose best friend is Percival Plum. Knowing Derek, it's not surprising who's not on the list, and it's not surprising that virtually everyone else is.
As much as I love Derek (in a platonic way, of course), he can be a little bit of a jerk. He's rude to anyone who isn't popular like us. I mean, that one time I cheated off of Percival on my ninth grade biology test, I at least payed him for the answers. And again, I would've had the time to study if Derek wasn't throwing another one of his stupid parties. And now he's stealing my girl? I sigh as I make my way to Derek's kitchen, grabbing some chips and some carrots from the veggie tray, eyes straying to the knife lying idly on the counter.
White's POV
I didn't have time to do my makeup at home, my family was hogging the bathroom - my dad had to shower, my sister was touching up her own makeup. So I had to do it at the party. I excused myself to the bathroom, already feeling a panic attack coming on from being the second guest there. The whole point was so Derek wouldn't notice me because there would already be the better half of Body High there. Or the worst half, to be honest.
I don't wear a lot of makeup, just a little bit of mascara and a pale pink matte lipstick. Things you pick up on when you have an older sister. Shoot. I forgot my eyelash curler. I knew I was forgetting something. I use the restroom after applying my usual makeup, take a deep breath, and walk back out to the other guests.
When I'm back in Derek's living room, I see Sasha Scarlet on Derek's couch, with her head lying on his shoulder, and Malcolm Mustard in the kitchen chomping on a carrot. Maybe it's just my imagination, but he looks kind of upset about something. And I know it's my imagination when I see him wave at me. The quarterback of the football team? Waving at me? No way. I wouldn't care if he did anyway. I'm not mesmerized by him like that Peyton girl on the soccer team, who never will admit it.
Almost as if reading my mind - and just trying to embarrass me - Derek chimes in with a, "Maybe I should put you two together in the bets, huh? Of who will end up together by the end of the night. Imagine it. The quarterback and the ghost girl. Isn't that what you identify as? Not completely human, right? Too bad for you, Malcolm. If she's not human, it's technically illegal." He winks at Malcolm who simply glares back, and I hear Sasha giggle into his shirt.
"I-" I stutter, but before I know it Malcolm speaks up.
"Oh, c'mon, Derek. If we got together by the end of the night - which would never happen - it would be pure and emotional, not just physical. Not, as I like to call it, the Derek way."
Derek scowls. "It was a joke, bro."
"Yeah, get it together, Mustard," Sasha says, half in a joking, provocative way, and half serious.
I'm about to stand up for Malcolm the way he did for me when there is a knock at the door.
Peacock's POV
So yeah, maybe I hate Derek. And maybe I don't love parties as much as him or Malcolm or Sasha, but it's good to just let loose every once in awhile. To not have to deal with soccer practice, which admittedly I do love, or hours of annoying homework, or a bunch of other clubs and extracurriculars that sound like a good idea at first and end up driving me crazy in a matter of weeks. So for some reason, I decide to go. What're the odds of encountering Derek himself anyway?
Kara, my best friend (who I made through soccer, of course), said she'd drive me because I don't have my own car and my parents are going to be out of town, but she has to go to her little brother's dance recital tonight. It's okay, though. Derek's house is only a few blocks away, which I know because it's right next to Malcolm's, so I can just take my bicycle over. I mean yeah, I'll be pretty sweaty by the time I get there, but at least my soccer jersey's sleeveless. I couldn't be bothered to put on anything dressier. And after all, I know half of Derek's guests will be sweaty for much worse reasons.
When I finally get there, I'm unpleasantly surprised to see that I'm one of the first there. I'm greeted - if you can even call it that - by Sasha Scarlet.
I sigh, staring at the ground. "Hi, Sasha."
"Hey, wannabe jock girl." She smirks seductively at me and even though I know she's just trying to make my night miserable, something about the way she's looking at me feels a bit flirtatious. I feel my heart speed up, and my breath gets caught in my throat when she bites her lip due to something offensive about me Derek calls out from a few feet away, which I'm too distracted and mortified to hear.
"Come on in!" Wilma White pipes up, her greeting the first genuine one of the night. Though it's barely louder than a whisper, I think that it might be the loudest I've ever heard her talk.
"T-thank you." I smile at her and glare at Derek and Sasha, then at the final person in the house, before I realize that the person I'm glaring at is Malcolm Mustard.
He flashes me a charming smile, and I smile back, attempting to say, "Sorry!" simply through a facial expression. He waves a hand at me, seeming to say, "It's alright."
I make my way to a rocking chair in the corner of the room, feeling everyone's eyes on me. I fiddle with my jersey until I hear a knock at the door. I open it to reveal the anxious-looking face of Gunner Green.
Green's POV
I really, really, really, did not want to come to this party. But Dan's coming, and I am in desperate need for money. As much as I have against Derek, I really need the dough.
"Hi Gunner!" Peyton Peacock says enthusiastically.
"Hey Peyton."
"What's up?"
"This, I guess."
"Well come on in!"
I walk into Derek's huge living room where him and Sasha Scarlet are cuddling on the couch, and Wilma White and Malcolm Mustard are sat at opposite ends of another couch.
"Hey chocolate boy!" Derek calls at me, referring to my ethnicity and not even looking back to face me. I curse at him under my breath, but not loud enough for him to hear. I don't need a black eye. But seriously, wasn't this BS supposed to end in the 60s with Martin Luther King Jr? Even Sasha gives him a disgusted look, which I'm surprised by, considering she almost always goes along with his offensive schemes. Peyton flips him off.
"Oh, keep your mouth shut, jock girl! Go get in the kitchen, have a burger or something, and don't forget to make me one when you're done."
"Did you hear me talk? Also, I'm a vegetarian, you dweeb!" she shouts back.
"Well someone's on her rag."
"And you're telling her to shut her mouth?" Malcolm mutters.
"What'd you say, bro?"
"N-nothing."
"That's what I thought."
And with that, a throng of party animal teenagers burst through the door. Standing only a few steps into Derek's house, I practically get trampled by the stampede. So much for not getting a black eye.
Plum's POV
When I walk in, the house is crowded with hundreds of teenagers. I recognize a few, Rosie Burke and Peyton Peacock from the girl's soccer team, with the rest of the team crowded around them, most of which I barely recognize, Gunner Green chatting with Dan Levine, Malcolm Mustard playing pool with some other guys from the football team, Wilma White standing by herself in a corner. Despite how odd she is, Wilma is actually pretty attractive. Her wispy figure is quite cute when you look close enough. Nothing compared to the curvaceous Sasha Scarlet, of course, who's flirting it up with Derek himself, but she's still something. Before I head upstairs to try to find Lucy, I realize that the two girls, seemingly so different, have the same bright blue eyes.
I hurry upstairs, getting punch spilled on my purple polo by some guy with blond spiky hair. Or at least I hope that's punch.
I find Lucy in the third bedroom on my right. Seriously, why does this guy have to have so many bedrooms? That's when I remember he has three older brothers, probably at their own parties. Lucy's sitting on the bed, blowing out a candle and setting the candlestick back on a tall white dresser.
"Hey, I may hate him, but I don't want his house setting on fire with all of us in it."
I chuckle. "Hey, Luce."
"Having fun, Percy?"
"Only now that I found you. It's like a trainwreck down there."
"I know, right?" she says, running her slim fingers through her jet black hair. "But let me tell you, we won't be having the same kind of fun those doofuses are."
"Good!" I cry, my eyes widening. "I mean - I didn't mean it like - Luce, you're like a sister to me so…"
She giggles. "Yeah. Don't be worried, Perc. I wasn't offended. After all, you're definitely not the first guy to say that."
We both laugh, and she lays her head on my shoulder. For once we have the privacy to not look like a couple when we're really just best friends. And if someone walks in, who cares? We're both used to the teasing. And God knows there are much worse things to walk in on during Derek's parties.
