The Biggest One

Unclasp, clasp, toss. Unclasp, clasp, toss. That's the rhythm for my hair. 

I did a 360 turn in my surrounding mirrors, making sure that all my hair was curled in ringlets and my designer clothing wasn't wrinkled. Perfect, as usual.  

I quickly switched off the curling iron and unplugged my iPhone off of its charger. It's a good reason to turn it off because, like every day, they're blowing up my phone. 

They = the "in" crowd. Which I was in, of course. I carefully turned it on, dramatically waiting the ridiculously long amount of time for it to load. I checked for any texts from Emily - none, as usual; anymore.  

Emily Baker was my ex - best friend.  

I knew what I did was wrong, yet it was right.  

*F L A S H B A C K* 

"John, really, I like you, but-" 

"It doesn't matter," John cut me off, clasping my hands tighter in his, and his green eyes sparkling. "She'll never find out." 

"Things are always found out," I interjected, and removed my hands from his. The tingling pleasure quickly left. 

"Well this won't," He whispered, and took my manicured hands again. "Baby, you're the one I want. I need you. Emily's not worth anything, I just wanted to get closer to you." 

His words struck me in the heart. 

He used Emily? Emily was kind, sweet, caring, loving, peaceful, non - judgmental, careful, elegant, graceful, and pretty. 

But she still made a perfect target. 

I knew John was a player. He was perfect in every way, with the tussled blond hair and sparkling green eyes, he was girl candy. 

I immediately closed in on him, making sure my chest was pressed against his and I was giving him a nice view. "I-" 

"Not worth anything?" A soft, shaky voice spoke. "I thought I was your prize." 

Emily stepped out from behind a pillar, her Bohemian clothing gently fluttering.  

She turned to me. "And I thought I was you best friend." She threw her Guess necklace that we both shared at me. "You'll regret this." Then she hugged her lavender cardigan closer to her, then fluttered it out in an angry manner. 

Between us, it only meant one thing: I hate you. 

*E N D OF F L A S H B A C K* 

I sighed. 

Hey, perk up, babe! It's Friday, and Lily'll be here.  

I quickly gathered my bag and headed downstairs. 

"Morning, sweetie!" Mom called through the kitchen. 

"'Morn, mom," I grinned and returned the peck she gave me. 

"Today I'm cooking. I won't be back in a month, so it's my way of saying ta - ta." 

Immediatley my heart dropped. Mom is a horrible cook. 

"Bacon!" She cried, and plopped a porcelain plate in front of me. 

I mean, it looked okay, but hell knows what she put in it.  

She gave me an expecting smile and gestured towards the plate. I nodded, and carefully picked up the warm slice of pig. 

The taste of pickles and bananas entered my mouth. Seriously? Mom was a bad cook, but how did she manage to get food THIS disgusting? 

I grinned and nodded my head in approval. She let out a sigh of relief, and stomped upstairs. Abrupt much?  

Once I heard her bedroom door close, I ran to the sink and spit out the damned concoction.  

Then I stuffed a whole packet of mint gum in my mouth.  

. . .  

I sashayed out of my house, my Gucci heels clicking with my steps. I tossed my moonlight - beam blond ringlets behind my shoulder, pasting a confident look on my Covergirl'd face. School was right across the street from my house - as I said, I'm perfect. 

I burst through the glass doors of the school, tossing my Coach backpack over my shoulder.  

"Hey girl!" 

"Looking hot!" 

"Ali! Ali! Smile!" A blinding flash entered my vision.  

Greetings and compliments flowed through the hallway. 

I repeat. I'm perfect. 

I strutted up to the rest of the cheerleaders. They smiled, their eyes running up and down my curvy, juicy body. Inside, I sneered. They would be perfect like me . . . in their dreams.  

"So, girls," I breathed, twirling a lock of my hair, "How's life?" I strutted down the hallway for show. They followed me like lost puppies, mimicking my every move. Some of them quickly shoved a disgusting nerd in their open locker. My skin - tight, lacy, bright yellow camisole complimented my skin tone. My dark, limited edition Coach jeans stood out. Everybody looked out of place with their light colored jeans - I mean, I start the trends, I end them. Once again. P - E - R - F - E - C - T.  

We passed the other cliques - the jocks, who told me I was sexy. The preps - who asked me how I got my perfect grades. The artsy kids - who asked me if I could model for their project. The skaters - who really didn't do anything but brag about their new skateboard.  

"Babe! Look," One of my clique members said. Her name was Tasha, right? I'll kick her out soon enough. She waved a paper in front of my face. I snatched it away in annoyance. I faked a gasp, twirling around so that my locks bounced and I was face to face with her. "Girl, can you go fetch my lunchcard from the caf?" I asked, feigning a pathetic look. She nodded, skipping away. Strutting again, I sneered at the rest of the clique. "Like she's coming back," I snorted. They cackled. 

I looked down. The school newspaper had a perfect picture of me. "Best Girl at School," it stated. I smiled, flipping through the short autobiography about me. 

This was perfect, of course. My rich parents. My fabulous life, and perfect everything.  

Then I looked up, my breath catching in my throat.  

He gazed at me.  

Hot in the face, yes. My eyes ran down from his straight, het black hair to the . . .

Black Alesana tee . . . 

Neon belt . . . 

Ripped skinny jeans.

I immediately did a double take, so did he.

Yep, still there, sexy snakebites and all. Red and blue streaks highlighted his hair.

Oh no.

Ehhhh, first chapter??? :D

I really like writing this story. It's fun. Occasionally Ali will be extremely mean, but it's probably just because I wanna or I'm angry.

So lemme know whatcha think! COMMENT! VOTE! FAN!