Chapter 1: Before Fred

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I guess you can say I'm kind of a lone wolf. If you need a high school musical visual aid, I'm the weird girl who plays the piano with hardly any friends. Let me rewind for a second; it's not that I can't make friends. I'm just the kind of friend who gradually gets left out. I'm either not popular enough to hang with, not rebel enough, or not smart enough to join their elite college dream school like Harvard.

I am just your average Joe, which is a better and nicer description. I go to school, receive mediocre grades, and go home to a somewhat pleased, single, Hispanic mother.

Last period had finally ended with the halls filling up with students as they tried to hurry out to the parking lot to drive home or hang out with their group of friends at the new coffee shop.

Personally, I felt that La Panaderia, a family-owned Mexican bakery, was way cheaper, and their pan dulce always tasted fresh every morning. Of course, I could be completely biased. Growing up in a Mexican household can make you one of the harshest critics, especially for food.

I can admit that I may be judgmental regarding food, but nothing compares to hormonal high school teens. We judge every aspect of nearly anything our eyes land on, even ourselves.

Entering the main hallway, I spotted the same exclusive and very judgmental friend group standing in the hall, as if it were the middle of the stage on Broadway for everyone to see their designer bags and shoes.

"Hey MK! Are you coming to Jackson's house party?" Susan said, catching me off guard. This rarely happens. Also, I don't go to parties; in fact, I don't even go out at all. After being dragged to so many quince parties, you will never catch me at any social event.

"Probably not. I have to babysit my neighbor's kid," I answered, which was not a total lie. I have a neighbor, and she does have a kid who comes to my house often.

"Really? I was hoping you could come because Mar-

"Shit, my mom is already here. Sorry, I gotta get going." I lied as I pretended to text my mom aggressively. Susan gave me a disbelief expression as she rolled her eyes. I shrugged it off and continued my acting career as if my mom was actually nagging me to hurry up. Hollywood, I'm ready for my big break!

I have always tried my best to stay out of exclusive groups. It is tempting to join first, especially if you're a new kid. Being invited to parties and involved in group messages is great until you realize you're trapped in a social entanglement. Unfortunately, Melissa Vice was a victim of the infamous entanglement that drowned her name further down to the point she switched schools.

My mother always said gossip is a deadly game of telephone. One secret is told to another, and the information is mixed up to the point where the truth no longer matters. The whole class already decided to label her as a liar, then a cheater, then finally, the classic...a slut.

Finally, away from the body of students, I sat on the steps near the window of the pick-up line. I kept looking out for a white GMC Denali that, surprisingly, was still running after all the potholes and curbs that my mom had hit. Resting my head against the cool glass window, I enjoyed feeling warm and cold.

"Yo MK, how did you do on Johnson's quiz?" A voice sounding like my cheating buddy in math class, calling me from behind. I broke my gaze, no longer searching for my mother, who I wanted so desperately to hurry up.

The boy gave a cheeky smile, finally gaining my attention. He was shorter than most of the boys in my class, but his athletic build made him appear much bigger. Unfortunately, I couldn't remember his name for the life of me.

What I do remember is how he always tried to impress his peers with how cool he was by slacking off. He freaks out in the back corner of the classroom after every test or quiz. Before the quiz started, he vomited his emotional dilemma about his father and getting kicked off the football team if he didn't get his grades up. Why did he need to tell me about this information before the quiz? I have no idea. Maybe to get sympathy points?

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