Chapter Six: Rachel Jackson
A/N: I'm back! Did you miss me? Well, let's see... there's this girl named Rachel who is another person that bugs me and this is all true about her. Her last name isn't really Jackson. If your name is Rachel , don't worry. I'm probably *not* talking about you. This is a true story, like most of everything in this story.
Lizzie POV
I have known Rachel Jackson since first grade. She is popular, short, skinny, athletic, and mean. She was never mean to me (she was never *anything* to me), just to everyone else.
She has a seventh grade perverted jock for a brother named Emilio, and a second grade annoying kid brother name Lorenzo who is in Matt's class and their bitter enemies. Her dad, Manuelo, is Matt's old soccer coach. Her child-like mom, Monica, is a nurse at Matt's school. I like their parents, but not exactly their kids. They live on our street. So pretty much wherever I go, I'm surrounded by one of the Jacksons.
It just so happens that Rachel was tired of picking on everyone else, and decided to pick on me that year. But I didn't know it was coming.
Rachel obviously got a ride to school for the past two days, because on the third day, she was at my bus stop. Not knowing that she was evil, I waved to her. She smirked.
August 21st was chillier than the average August morning, so I had a jacket on. I absolutely *loved* that jacket. It was Christmassy plaid, with red, green, and yellow lines. Inside it was lined with red satin silk. The neck (collar) and both ends of sleeves had red fur on it. The only problem was that I was outgrowing the jacket, it only came up to my belly button, and was too tight to close. But even like that, it looked Britany-ish.
Under the jacket, I had a banana yellow baby tee. The neck and sleeves were outlines with teal blue. One the shirt, in sparkly, capital, teal-blue letters, it said ANGEL.
My jeans weren't bad either. They were brand new. They were faded (but not bleached) so they looked as it they were old. On them, it had this pretty stained glass pattern down the front. The design was in brick yellow and also had a hint of sparkles.
I thought the outfit was the coolest thing with my jewelry and high-heels. It matched, took me forever to put it together, and I was proud of it.
Rachel was literally 4'2". I was 5' (but with my heels I was 5'2") She looked up at me strangely. I looked down at her.
She had tons of body glitter on, as well as blue lipgloss and dark blue eyeshadow. Her very long brown hair (half as long as she was) was tied in a French braid. She had a blue Gap sweatshirt on with whiteish, silverish lettering, and white shorts. Her tennis shoes were Sketchers. She was wearing a black choker and no other jewelry.
I was envied her. I was allowed to wear lipgloss (and I was wearing some that day), but no other makeup. My mom never had time to do a French braid in the mornings, ad if she did it at night, it'd get messed up. I had a Gap sweatshirt (like who doesn't), but it was dirty and stained, unlike Rachel's sparkling new one (or maybe she used Bounty, that stuff that makes your clothes 'like brand new').
My mom said that it had to be at least 70 degrees for me to wear shorts and it was only 52. And plus, I didn't like my legs, they were kinda fat, unlike Rachel, who was skinny as a stick. And the Sketchers, well, they were over my parent's budget for shoes, $30. The black choker looked great on her tan skin. (Her dad was from the Philippines, and her mom was from Indonesia, so she had that smooth, tan skin.)
She looked so... popular.
"That is the ugliest outfit I have ever seen." Rachel remarked, swinging her one strap, black and blue Mudd backpack around.
I was taken aback. How dare she insult my amazing outfit!
Animated Lizzie: Oh no she didn't!
But I didn't say anything You know that saying 'sticks and stones'. Words wouldn't hurt me. Well, actually the *real* reason I stayed quiet was because I was too chicken to mess with Rachel.
The bus came, and thank goodness to Miranda, I knew to sit in the back because the front might as well have a 'Reserved for Nerds' sign on it. I sat one seat in front of Rachel. She started whispering and giggling to her friends.
"Hey, Lizzie. I *love* your coat." Morgan O'Riley, who's mom is the manager of our city's Pizza Hut, giggled sarcastically.
"Uh, thanks." I said, not sure what else to say, even though I knew she was being sarcastic.
Rachel and Morgan started laughing hysterically.
I was mad.
And that is hot Rachel Jackson and I became rivals.
A/N: I'm back! Did you miss me? Well, let's see... there's this girl named Rachel who is another person that bugs me and this is all true about her. Her last name isn't really Jackson. If your name is Rachel , don't worry. I'm probably *not* talking about you. This is a true story, like most of everything in this story.
Lizzie POV
I have known Rachel Jackson since first grade. She is popular, short, skinny, athletic, and mean. She was never mean to me (she was never *anything* to me), just to everyone else.
She has a seventh grade perverted jock for a brother named Emilio, and a second grade annoying kid brother name Lorenzo who is in Matt's class and their bitter enemies. Her dad, Manuelo, is Matt's old soccer coach. Her child-like mom, Monica, is a nurse at Matt's school. I like their parents, but not exactly their kids. They live on our street. So pretty much wherever I go, I'm surrounded by one of the Jacksons.
It just so happens that Rachel was tired of picking on everyone else, and decided to pick on me that year. But I didn't know it was coming.
Rachel obviously got a ride to school for the past two days, because on the third day, she was at my bus stop. Not knowing that she was evil, I waved to her. She smirked.
August 21st was chillier than the average August morning, so I had a jacket on. I absolutely *loved* that jacket. It was Christmassy plaid, with red, green, and yellow lines. Inside it was lined with red satin silk. The neck (collar) and both ends of sleeves had red fur on it. The only problem was that I was outgrowing the jacket, it only came up to my belly button, and was too tight to close. But even like that, it looked Britany-ish.
Under the jacket, I had a banana yellow baby tee. The neck and sleeves were outlines with teal blue. One the shirt, in sparkly, capital, teal-blue letters, it said ANGEL.
My jeans weren't bad either. They were brand new. They were faded (but not bleached) so they looked as it they were old. On them, it had this pretty stained glass pattern down the front. The design was in brick yellow and also had a hint of sparkles.
I thought the outfit was the coolest thing with my jewelry and high-heels. It matched, took me forever to put it together, and I was proud of it.
Rachel was literally 4'2". I was 5' (but with my heels I was 5'2") She looked up at me strangely. I looked down at her.
She had tons of body glitter on, as well as blue lipgloss and dark blue eyeshadow. Her very long brown hair (half as long as she was) was tied in a French braid. She had a blue Gap sweatshirt on with whiteish, silverish lettering, and white shorts. Her tennis shoes were Sketchers. She was wearing a black choker and no other jewelry.
I was envied her. I was allowed to wear lipgloss (and I was wearing some that day), but no other makeup. My mom never had time to do a French braid in the mornings, ad if she did it at night, it'd get messed up. I had a Gap sweatshirt (like who doesn't), but it was dirty and stained, unlike Rachel's sparkling new one (or maybe she used Bounty, that stuff that makes your clothes 'like brand new').
My mom said that it had to be at least 70 degrees for me to wear shorts and it was only 52. And plus, I didn't like my legs, they were kinda fat, unlike Rachel, who was skinny as a stick. And the Sketchers, well, they were over my parent's budget for shoes, $30. The black choker looked great on her tan skin. (Her dad was from the Philippines, and her mom was from Indonesia, so she had that smooth, tan skin.)
She looked so... popular.
"That is the ugliest outfit I have ever seen." Rachel remarked, swinging her one strap, black and blue Mudd backpack around.
I was taken aback. How dare she insult my amazing outfit!
Animated Lizzie: Oh no she didn't!
But I didn't say anything You know that saying 'sticks and stones'. Words wouldn't hurt me. Well, actually the *real* reason I stayed quiet was because I was too chicken to mess with Rachel.
The bus came, and thank goodness to Miranda, I knew to sit in the back because the front might as well have a 'Reserved for Nerds' sign on it. I sat one seat in front of Rachel. She started whispering and giggling to her friends.
"Hey, Lizzie. I *love* your coat." Morgan O'Riley, who's mom is the manager of our city's Pizza Hut, giggled sarcastically.
"Uh, thanks." I said, not sure what else to say, even though I knew she was being sarcastic.
Rachel and Morgan started laughing hysterically.
I was mad.
And that is hot Rachel Jackson and I became rivals.