The Popularity Pyramid

Twerpbutt The Veterinarian

Some people believe that the popular girl (me), is practically the ruler of the school, and the stereotype (and I quote); 'The queen bee of the hive'. But, I don't think that's me. Although to others might seem as that, but really, am I that mean? I don't boss people around, I let them do whatever they want to do freely. Nor do I ever want to bully someone, even if I do run out of lunch money. That will never happen though, because I'm rich. I know that. People judge me by my family's fortunate luck of winning the lottery. My pregnant mother took me and my brothers hand and ran from my drunk of a father, there is only so far you could run though, when you win the lottery. Even if it happened about two years ago, we are still the latest winners and the paparazzi still hide in our bushes outside of our normal house. Other than them, no one really knows. All they know is I'm loaded.

I have experience. No not in that, but I've experienced how poor and helpless one can be. I've been at my lowest, and people believe that I'm just some preppy, obnoxious, rich girl. No one has ever been to my house, because their to busy at someone else's, such as my 'friends'. The reason there are quotations around 'friends' is because I know they only use me for my money. I still don't drop them, because apparently my mother thinks it will help us hide from my father. Thus, I have to listen to dreadful music such as Justin Bieber and/or One Direction, act like a bimbo, and watch Titanic repeatedly after some breakup Bretta or Heather went through at their mansions. So basically everyday of the damn week.

Pitiful. I know.

I don't really care about my father though, he stopped being my father after he skipped my third grade dance recital to drink. And then have an affair with my mom. The reason I know this was because I walked in on them having a heavy make out session on my moms bed (which we all have to share because it was a rundown apartment building).

9 Years Ago

At first I thought it was mom, but I still was mad that they were getting cooties on my side of the bed. So I marched up to them with my oversized tutu and began pushing them off.

"Stop it." The woman growled as she pushed back from my papa's face. I gasp only to realize that that high squeaky voice, and fake blonde hair, is definitely not my mother.

"Papa?" I squeak, and he just grunted in response. "How could you do this to mommy?" With that, anger darkened his brown eyes which have ugly sags underneath them, and he lifted his hand and struck me across my face, causing me to sprawl on the floor.

"Shut up kid. I'm not your father, and never will be." With that he grabbed the lady's hand and left the house, leaving me where he had pushed me to the floor. I gently lifted my fingers and grazed the tender spot where he had hit me. I winced at the sting that came from it and felt wetness stream my face. I shook my head, wiped my tears, and stood up to walk to my mothers workplace, Danny's Burger Haven. I slipped off my used tap shoes and put on my old, worn out, and terribly small black tennis shoes that had a toe hole in it.

I walked past the old apartment buildings that were in Florida, and halted to a stop after I reached the familiar scent of greasy fries after a hour and a half. My tummy growled at the scent and I walked towards the back of the decaying building, my toe tapping the cement rather than my shoe. I reached the backdoor, made sure here was no trace of crying, and knocked. Only to be opened by Danny, an old sweet man that usually gave me large cookies. I know that sounds creepy, but he really is nice.

"Hey Delilah!" Danny grins with his crooked teeth, "Do y'all need cookies?"

I give him a side ways glance, "Ya'll?" Danny glances behind me and I turn around. I gasp lightly. A black puppy was following me, it was adorable, but it seemed like it was in pain. "Hold on there little guy." I whisper as I sit on the hit asphalt that absorbs the sun in the spring. I began whistling discreetly, only letting him be able to hear it, so anything such as the birds wouldn't scare him off. I pull my hands out from my large hoodie, letting him see my outstretched hands. I grin, he's handsome. His fur was all pure black and one eye was blue, the other one was a deep brown, but it looked black.