My life was extraordinary. It may have been my bright, crescent moon smile that made people jealous. Maybe, it was the way my gorgeous, silky, blonde hair fell just slightly over my shoulders or my perfect relationship, with the perfect guy, that made girls mad with envy. It even could have been my sky-high social status that would never allow anyone to take me seriously when word escaped that I was struggling with depression. Classmates would comment, "Madeline Vogue, the girl with the great home life, latest fashion, and perfect physique has depression? Or does she just want more attention?" In reality, those are the people who know me as the social butterfly, but behind the wall I've built... my world is falling apart.
Of course, the day I turned 16 was the day everyone had been yearning for. Not to wish me, the queen, happy birthday, but to go to the biggest, most extravagant party of the year. I had been planning my birthday for a year with my friend, Jen. She was a 17-year-old senior at Newton High in Sacramento, California. She had the same, elevated social status that I did, so, by teenage law, we had to be best friends.
Once again, economics first hour with Mr. Gringley was torture; I could not focus for the life of me. The closer it got to my birthday, the closer I got to a mental breakdown. If my party was not the event of the year, I could lose my place as queen bee. As I continued to mentally trap myself in my worries, my boyfriend, Brad, walked in late and took his seat beside me. Brad was a brawny, dull-minded jock who couldn't have a care in the world and always did things wrong. Sometimes, I don't think Brad really thought about my feelings. As a couple, Brad and I had the relationship everyone wanted. We were like dazzling Covergirl models; people could buy the cosmetics, but that didn't mean they'd look like us. Though I was upset about Brad, my "clique" and I made a set time, 6 o'clock, to meet at The Chateau, which was the hotel where my party would be held in, for decorating. Later, when I got home from school, I stepped in to see my mother on the phone, as usual, and my sister, Alana, on the sofa in our gigantic living room. My mother hung up the phone and explained my father had been sick and now needed help from a doctor. I wasn't the slightest bit concerned.
I pulled out of the driveway with a screech as my Mercedes sped down the road. I'm not the safest driver, and I usually drive fast to avoid conversation. When I drive alone, I speed out of habit.
I arrived at the hotel at 6 o'clock to see Jen, alone, sorting streamers. Where was everyone?! I began pacing to calm my temper. I then stomped back into the room with Jen to see her hanging streamers of the same color next to each other! "Jesus, Jen, do you ever use your brain? Clearly, red streamers shouldn't be hung directly next to each other! I swear, you never use your tiny brain!" Jen had a look of choler.
"Then do it yourself! I have better things to do than be criticized by you!" squalled Jen back at me.
"Use what's in your head, and we won't have a problem!" I hollered back in rage. Jen flashed a look of anger that faded into a look of sorrow. She then walked out of the room. Her small-minded ways just get in the way, but, like the good friend I am, I always stick with her. Just as the clock turned to 6:10, my other decorators walk through the glass doors. They had an I-know-I'm-late, apologetic look on their faces. As if an apology would be enough.
As a result, I yelled at my so-called friends because being late is never okay in the world of Madeline Vogue. "There is no exception for being 10 minutes late!" I exclaimed. As if they didn't know who they were talking to, my "clique" began to argue back at me. All of them, except one scrawny boy. Together, they stomped out, followed by the boy. Good riddance. I thought I had done the right thing by sticking up for myself, until Jen began nagging at me about how "rudely" I had treated my friends. By the end of our argument, I stood alone decorating. Great. Then, I was alone and had to finish decorating myself. If my "friends" would have been on time, this wouldn't have happened. Now that I'd lost my other friends, I only had to think about Jen and me now.
