Chapter 2 - They are so 1997, Brigitte! Honestly…

Abby

I stared long and hard at myself in the mirror this morning. Today was my first day of senior year at the illustrious Dayton Academy. It was really my first day ever being at that school, since the previous years I’d spent at Percy Public School. It was a decent school, as any average public school tends to be, but it lacked that certain sparkle.

All my life I’ve studied continuously to better myself. My family doesn’t really have the financial means to send me to the private, challenging schools that I wish to tend, like Dayton. It’s difficult when your father dies when you’re eight and your mother really doesn’t have a lot of employment skills. Mom went through college in that period where women were still dependent on men to bring home the necessary income. At that time, women often found secretarial jobs that would keep them afloat until they got married and the men could take over the breadwinning. So, the point of this entire history lesson is that now Mom is stuck trying to find a decent paying job so we can stay in our same house. We’ve just about gone through all of our savings and what was left from Dad, and now things are getting especially tight.

I had always been really close to my father before he died. He and I were considered two peas in a pod-or at least that’s what he always said. The sad thing is, is that as days go by, I remember his sayings less and less. That’s why I’ve kept a journal, filled completely with his quirky sayings and crazy “-isms”.

Mom says I look a lot like him. She says I’m tall like him and dark like him. Considering we have the same jet-black hair and I’m appallingly five foot eight, I would have to agree. That freakish height and bland hair only compliment my equally lame hazel eyes and large framed glasses. Ah, boredom at its peak.

The only thing I have going for me is my unquenchable determination to be the best at everything; to be involved in everything. I don’t want to end up stuck in an inescapable situation like my mother, although I believe she has done the best she can. Someday I’m going to leave Tulsa, Oklahoma and become a famous doctor who discovers many cures for once terminal diseases. However, in order to be accepted into world-class universities, I’m going to need prominent letters of recommendations from a quality and well thought of high school.

I nearly died of happiness when I received the call from Dayton, offering me a full tuition for an entire year at their respective high school. I had always dreamed of attending that school, though I must admit, fear and intimidation have often leaked into my thoughts on repeated occasions. All those people who attend this admired academy are swimming in money and I can wager aren’t the friendliest people in the world-especially to the less fortunate financially like me.

“Honey?” Mom asked, tapping lightly on my bedroom door.

I glanced at myself one last time, not quite satisfied, and opened the door for my mother. She stepped in and the tears started gathering in her beautiful blue eyes that I’ve always desired.

“You look so sophisticated,” she gushed, proudly. “I can’t believe you’re going off into such a new environment. This is where you belong, honey. You deserve the best.”

I blushed and shifted uncomfortably in my loafers. “Thanks.”

“I’m so sorry it’s taken so long,” Mom began, sniffling. I wrapped my arms around her in a tight embrace. It seems she was about as antsy about this as I was.

“Mom, you’ve given me so much,” I commented, fearing it was already too late to stop the mushy “Hallmark” speech all set to undergo.

“If your father were here…”

“He’s not.” I stepped back and walked back over to my bed. Why did she have to bring him up whenever we REALLY start to talk? When we’re really being honest? For nine years I’ve tried my hardest to stifle all the emotions my father’s untimely death had aroused. I’ve managed to squelch the pangs of loneliness and anxiety. And now, which should be the happiest day of my life, I’m being dragged back into the whirlpool of memories.

“Abby, I…”

“Mom, please,” I began, placing my hand up to silence her. “I need to pack my lunch now or I’ll be late.” I breezed past her and made my way into the kitchen. My sister, who is two years older and is attending college at Tulsa State University, was sitting at the kitchen table reading the front page of the newspaper.

“Hey, Flabby,” Olivia began, grinning like a cat at me. I inwardly groaned. I HATED it when she called me that unflattering nickname. Come on, would YOU enjoy having a nickname that entailed you’re obese?

I simply ignored her and opened the fridge mechanically. Mustard…Ranch dressing…half empty milk carton…carrots…yuck. There was never anything good in our refrigerator anymore.

“You gonna eat again, Flabs?”

“You gonna piss me off again before my first day at a real academy?”

“No need to get over dramatic.”

“No need to be an insensitive jerk,” I countered, chomping unhappily on my tasteless carrot. I grabbed my backpack and headed out the door where I forced to walk three miles to school. Yes, I know I sound like every single story your grandfather told you when you were ten. For that I am sorry.

With the door slammed behind me, I left my problems including the harassment from my perfectionist sister. I decided to put my best foot forward and make myself have the happiest, most perfect day of my life. I was going to do well in all of my classes, become friends with people of high society, and be a normal teenage girl.

****

“Room 201?” I exclaimed, frustrated. “Where did this come from? I’m supposed to be in room 124!” I couldn’t believe I’d managed to get lost so quickly. I felt like such an outsider from the get go, noticing that everyone had perfectly manicured fingernails and five-star equipment. Students sported Gucci glasses and platinum Rollex watches, as I wore a rubberband in my hair and socks with holes in the toes. I stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Excuse me, but…” I began, approaching a petite redhead tentatively. She cast me a snobby look and turned her back to me. I groaned, throwing my schedule up in the air in complete disgust.

“Hey!”

I whirled around and blushed feverously. My stomach nearly caught in my throat as I noticed the most attractive girl I’ve seen. I had noticed her before, circled around cheerleaders and other attractive people I knew to never ever advance. Great, why don’t I just commit social suicide and hit the most popular girl in school smack dab in the middle of the face? Oh wait, I just did.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I…” I stuttered, biting my bottom lip feverously. I ducked my head down in shame as I bent down to pick up my cursed schedule.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” the girl replied, laughing. “I was kind of in my own little world anyway.” I smiled tightly.

“It’s so exasperating being new and not knowing where I’m going,” I commented, fixing my hair again. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this place.”

“It is pretty big,” agreed the girl with the golden curls. “What school did you go to last year?”

I swallowed hard. I bet she expected me to say some prestigious school where everyone talks about politics or mink coats instead of the run-down public school I went to.

“Um, Percy.”

“The public school?”

I inwardly groaned. “Uh, yeah.” I know I must have sounded like the biggest nerd in the entire world now that I was admitting that I went to a poor school. What got to me most though, was the fact that she was still talking to me! I know she’s popular, in fact, I can smell it off her. It smells like Christian Dior perfume.

“You know, I always wanted to go to a public school,” she remarked, as she led me down the hall. “What room are you looking for again?”

“124.”

“Okay, here it is then.” She pointed me at the lovely door, made with the finest oak. “You have Government with Mr. Higgins? Good luck! I hear he’s a giant hard-ass! Hey, when do you have your lunch period?”

I glanced down at my schedule. “Um, fifth period.”

“Me too! Come and sit with me, okay?” She asked, with a wave.

“HEY!” I exclaimed, calling her back. “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Brooke,” she extended her hand with a small giggle. “Sorry, I forget that you’re new.”

“I’m Abby,” I replied, smiling back. I ventured into my class with my head held high. I had made my first friend in this school, who just happened to be extremely popular. How fortunate could I get?

The bell rang seconds after I entered the booming classroom. People were talking and laughing and snapping gum like madmen. I wanted to turn and run away. However, now I had an even greater dilemma. Where to sit?

I could sit in the back, where I’d really prefer to sit, but there was only one seat open and an entourage of popular jocks and cheerleaders had already claimed that area as their own. So, I sat in the front next to some girl picking at her expensive retainer trying to get the remnants of her breakfast out of her mouth. I suppose this would be yet another setback in the life of Abigail Deluca.

“Psst! Hey!”

I whirled around as Higgins began a lengthy lecture on punctuality and responsibility. Was someone trying to get my attention on purpose?

“Yeah?” I whispered.

“I like your hair,” a cute brunette with blonde highlights whispered back. “What’s your name?”

“Abby.”

“Are you friends with Brooke?”

“Yeah, kind of.”

“Cool,” she sat back and began whispering to her sheep-like followers. I bit my lip and strained to hear their conversation but it was no avail. I just couldn’t hear a dang blasted thing.

“Hey Abby! I like your shoes! They have that trendy, vintage look to them!” The brunette whispered. I smiled tightly. I had bought them two years ago-which would be vintage to this socialite.

Finally, fifth period came and my rumbling tummy could now be silenced with the joys of a peanut butter sandwich and salt and vinegar potato chips. I grew a bit nervous once again at the prospect that perhaps Brooke had forgotten about me or had even been joking with me about actually getting to sit with her. Really, who am I anyway? I am stupid, that’s what for thinking she’d actually waste her time with a nobody like me.

“Abby!” A sweet voice called out. I elatedly found Brooke waving at me from a secluded table in the back area of the cafeteria. “Over here!”

I sat beside her and immediately felt bashful about my brown bagged lunch. She merrily snatched it off of the table and peered into it. She grinned as she pulled out my peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Ooh! Do you like salmon?” She asked, biting her lower lip.

I shrugged. “Yeah, why?”

“Will you trade me?”

I burst out laughing. “You want to trade your salmon for my PB&J? You’re kidding, right?”

“No way!” She exclaimed, handing over her salmon delicacy. “Peanut butter and jelly is my favorite and I never get it at home. My stepmother refuses to have anything in the house that contains more than five grams of fat per serving. It’s quite annoying if you ask me. I love fast food and anything fried!”

I couldn’t believe this girl. Here was the most perfect girl in the school, sitting next to me in lunch, talking my ear off, and eating my homemade sandwich while I devoured her chef created salmon dish on a fine china plate. What a weird place this is.

Soon, many other girls joined us at our table. They gossiped about the newest rage, the hottest boys, the sluttiest girls, and about the latest celebrities they found charming. Brooke had become overwhelmingly silent, leaving me to do most of the talking with her posse. So far, I’ve met Brigitte-the brunette from Higgins class, Sandra-the redhead who snubbed me big time in the hall, Uma-the six-foot-four model-esque type that talked in a belittling tone to everyone, and Tiffany-the head cheerleader extraordinaire. They really weren’t so bad, and aside from Uma, seemed extremely friendly toward me.

“Did you see what Maya Cooper was wearing today in gym?” Brigitte asked, munching on her celery stick. I felt somewhat awkward since I was the only one who had anything of real calorie value.

“No, what did she wear now? Last year’s Gucci?” Uma commented, applying more lip-gloss.

“Gross, no!” Brigitte replied, shaking her head. “It wasn’t that bad. It was actually kind of cool. She was wearing a Hanson T-shirt.”

Uma and Sandra exchanged skeptical glances before Sandra burst out laughing.

“Hanson?” She asked, between giggles. “Are you sure?”

“Totally!” Brigitte exclaimed.

“And you think that’s cool?” Uma asked, sipping her mineral water. “Maybe you should sit at that table over there, with the fashionably impaired.”

“Ugh!” Brigitte commented, sticking out her tongue. “No way! Besides, Hanson is pretty cool.”

Uma shook her head. She was the trend guru and nothing was ever “cool” until she labeled it so. “They are so 1997, Brigitte! Honestly…”

“Oh my God, Uma! How can you say that?” Brigitte asked, appalled. “They are so hot!”

“Whatever. I think they look like girls.”

“They USED to,” insisted Brigitte. “Now they’re fine.”

“And how would you know?” Uma asked, eyebrow raised. No one dared to argue with her about what was socially acceptable. “It’s not like they’ve put anything out in, like, forever!”

Brigitte stirred the straw of her diet coke. “Nuh-uh! Two go to our school now.”

“WHAT?” Sandra asked, her eyes wide. “Shut up! They do not!”

“For real!” Brigitte continued. “I’ve seen them both. Zac and Taylor I think are their names. They’re both super hot! Taylor is a senior and Zac is a sophomore.”

“I bet they’re losers,” Uma muttered, upset she hadn’t received this valuable information first. “They’d have to be to sing Mmmbop.”

Brooke looked up from my sandwich and raised an eyebrow. “I liked Mmmbop. And if I remember correctly, didn’t you always want to listen to it when you came over to my house?”

Uma crossed her arms over her chest. “That was in the seventh grade. What did we know in seventh grade?”

“We knew how to have a good time.”

I looked over at Brooke, who was shaking her head with an unreadable expression on her face. I felt even more so out of place. These girls must have been together since kindergarten, knowing every single detail imaginable. I felt like an outsider, almost as if I was watching an episode of Dawson’s Creek.

We all turned around immediately as we heard yelling from the opposite side of the cafeteria.

“Who is that?” Sandra asked, thoughtfully. She squinted her eyes in order to see better.

“Tony is picking on someone again?” Brooke exclaimed, also interested in the display at the other end of the cafeteria. “When will he grow up?”

“I can’t see who it is!” Tiffany whined, stomping her foot. “All I can see is that he’s got blond hair and he’s yelling back.”

“At Tony?” Sandra questioned, sitting down again. She had quickly lost interest in the fray. “Whoever he is, he must have some balls!”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “I think they’re both childish and immature for carrying on like that.”

Tiffany nodded. “That guy must be a loser because he’s sitting with two dorks that are in some of my other classes. The one with the black hair always winks at me and smiles. It is soooo disgusting!”

“Brooke’s right. He’s a loser,” Uma commented, examining her nails. “Let’s go back to more important issues. Who are you all taking to homecoming?”

***

“Hey!” Brooke shouted, chasing after me as soon as last period let out. She handed me a white envelope with neat penmanship on it. “Here’s an invite to my homecoming party this Saturday! Make sure you get there, okay?”

I beamed. “I’d love to! What should I wear?”

“Something nice,” she explained. “In fact, why don’t you come over early and we can get ready together? Afterwards, I’m inviting the girls over to spend the night so we can gossip about all the good-looking college guys! You have to come! I insist!”

I pretended to think about it. “I suppose I can fit it into my schedule.”

“Great! So, I’ll see you at eight on Saturday?”

“You bet!”