"Hey Meg!"
I spun around and looked at the person behind me. Of course it was Ferdinand. "Hi." I made sure to pack that one syllable with as much venom as I could muster before 9 AM.
Ferdinand flashed me his patented boyish grin. Two weeks ago I wouldn't have cared, but today it made me sick to my stomach. "I heard you dumped Herk. That kind of came out of nowhere." His voice sounded oily. Speaking of oily, when had he last washed his hair? Yuck.
"I gave it quite a bit of thought. Not that it's any of your business," I snapped, giving him my signature icy stare. Well, it used to be my signature stare. I'd forgotten how good it felt to be able to live life without caring about what people thought of you.
I'd forgotten what it felt like to not be popular.
"Anyway, I have to go. I hope I don't see you around," I said breezily. I spun on my heel and tried to walk away, but Ferdinand grabbed my arm. He smiled again before saying, "If you need a shoulder to cry on, I'm always here, Megara." I laughed nastily. "What about dear Snow White?" I simpered before practically running away.
Hercules and I had dated for almost three years. We'd gotten together October 31st, 2010. We were at the annual Halloween dance our eighth grade year when Herk walked over and asked me to dance. He was dressed as a pirate and I went as a vampire. By the end of the four hour dance, we were officially boyfriend and girlfriend.
It was great. On Monday it was like I was a new person. I ditched my best friends Alice and Mulan to sit with Hercules and the other popular kids. Within a week Jasmine and I were hosting sleepovers at her mansion together. I tried out for cheerleading that May and was the only freshman to make junior varsity. Even though it was ran by Ripley Hart, who was a grade older than me and pretty much evil, cheerleading was fun. I was actually still cheering. Herk and I were like that perfect couple from a fairytale. We had gotten together despite the fact that he was popular and I wasn't. Now we were living happily ever after.
That fairytale ended a little over a week ago. Jasmine was throwing one of her famous Friday night parties and had invited everybody in our crowd. However, Herk's dad surprised his family by taking them on a long weekend in New York. So I called Jasmine to let her know I'd be going alone. Unfortunately, Jazz wasn't really thrilled by that news.
"Meg!" she almost screamed into the phone. "You can't go alone! I invited Herk and Meg, not Meg! Sorry, but this is a couple's party. You'll feel left out."
That made me feel pretty weird inside. Jazz was supposed to be my best friend. But was she really my friend, or was she just friends with Meg and Hercules? The more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. I only really hung out with my so called girl friends at sleepovers, and all we did was compare boyfriends. They hadn't ever been interested in me before I started dating Herk. Was I still Meg? Or was I destined to be Herk and Meg as long as I was still dating him?
I broke up with Hercules when he got back from his mini vacation on Monday. It was hard. He thought I was kidding for a little while, but I guess he read my face and realized I meant it. He even cried. That was the worst part. Hercules was a running back and started varsity basketball. He also was a champion weight lifter. One time he broke his thumb during a powerlifting meet and didn't even blink. He just finished lifting and didn't get help until he won first place. Hercules wasn't the kind of guy to cry. But I succeeded in making his beautiful blue eyes well over with tears.
It had only been a week since the breakup. Things apparently travel quickly in high school.
I sighed and kept walking. There was a lost looking freshman standing in front of my locker. "Um, excuse me!" I said loudly. She jumped a little bit and stared at me nervously. "Oh, s-sorry," she quickly apologized. As well she should. I may be single for the first time in years, but I was still a junior and she should better respect that. "You're in front of my locker. Move," I demanded. After seeing the look of pure terror in her eyes, I tacked on a "please."
She moved away like my locker has suddenly become electrified. But she didn't go far. "I'm sort of lost," she admitted, "Do you know where locker 2351 is?"
I snorted. "Probably beside 2350," I said with a smirk. "Oh," she said and started nodding. "That makes sense. I'm Jane, by the way. I'm a freshman."
So Jane was also an idiot. Who did she think she was, still talking to me? I looked her up and down. Her jeans were sort of cute, but her necklace looked cheap. I could use that. "Trust me, I can tell. Where'd you get your necklace? Claire's?" I asked nastily. Maybe I could send this dumb freshman away in tears.
Jane looked hurt for a second, but then her whole demeanor changed. She shoved her messenger bad a little higher on her shoulder and cocked her head. "Where'd you get your shirt? Goodwill?"
"I got it from Hollister, you little idiot," I hissed back. Did she know who she was dealing with?
That stupid little freshman jutted out her hip and smirked. "Did the attitude come with it, or did you get that after you cheated on your boyfriend?"
Her words hit me like a slap in the face. Before I knew what I was doing, I grabbed her shirt (It was probably K-Mart, anyway, so it wasn't a huge loss) and pulled her closer to me. "Where did you hear that?!" I practically screamed. She kept her bitchy little smirk and stared into my eyes. It felt like I was losing all control faster than girls who use crappy hairspray. Suddenly I hear a loud slapping noise.
After that it felt like an out of body experience. Mr. Cogsworth, the stuffy history teacher, had to pull us apart as we pulled each other's hair. I had left a huge red mark on her face and she had pulled out a huge chunk of my hair. He and Ms. Potts, my sophomore English teacher, escorted us down the hall to Principal de Vil's office. That stupid little freshman didn't even seem fazed. She just kept right on smirking. I found myself wanting to tear her hair out.
What a great way to start my school year.