Drama Club

Eli Wesley

The thing about school, according to our bonehead no-good principal, is that you kind of have to attend no matter what and homework is guaranteed. Unless you're a crappy football player, of course. This is why yours truly is driving around at two in the morning and not at twelve in the afternoon.

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I scanned the crinkled paper clutched in my hands. 59 Westbrook Lane. I looked out of the car window to the small plaque nailed onto the front of the pale blue house. Yep, this is definitely 59 Westbrook Lane.

I cut the engine and slowly made my way up to the front porch. You can do this, Jewels. Do it for the drama department. Do it for all of the future thespians.

I placed my finger over the doorbell and pushed. A soft melodious sound drifted through the house and faded away as quickly as it came. A determined look painted my face. I can do this.

The door opened to a shirtless Eli Wesley, otherwise known as West Coast High School's bad boy. Let me give you the down low on Mister Wesley.

He puts the breaker in heartbreaker. The word around the street is that he was caught cheating with Avery Fisher when he was clearly dating Mandy Young. One bitch slap led to another and let's just say Avery spent her night in a hospital suite.

I focused my attention back on Eli. He looked confused as to why a random girl was standing awkwardly outside his house at precisely two in the morning. "And you are?" He stifled a yawn.

"The name's Lacy McFarland, and I need your help." I stated with conviction.

"I'm sorry Lacy, but this," he pointed to his bare chest and smirked. "Is off limits right now."

My cheeks flushed with disbelief. "Look, I don't want your body. Just come with me, okay?" I pleaded eyeing my car sitting in front of his house.

He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. "And why should I?"

"Because where we're going next has free food." This had better convinced him, because if this didn't I don't know what else will. I mean everyone knows that Eli Wesley loves food right next to hooking up.

He grabbed a random shirt and tugged it on as he maneuvered himself to the car in an astonishing three seconds flat. "You've got yourself a deal." He mumbled. I could practically see the vision of donuts and cheeseburgers dancing through his head.

He slid into the passenger side, and I into the driver's seat. I pulled out the wrinkled paper and crossed off Eli Wesley, 59 Westbrook Lane.

Eli glanced over. "Stalker much? I don't blame you. I mean who could not want some of this?"

I rolled my eyes, saying nothing.

"So where to next?"

I looked down at the paper. "West Coast Estates."

"What's at West Coast Estates?" He spat with so much venom. "Isn't that where the rich and elite live?" Sarcasm dripped off of every word.

I pulled out of the driveway. "Nope," I popped the 'p'. "It's where Carli Remington lives, and she owes someone a certain favor."

Eli scoffed, very attractively might I add, as I sped down the road towards the next destination. Keeping the drama department and future thespians in my mind.

Keep your eye on the prize, Lacy. Eye on the prize...
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Hope you enjoyed! Vote and comment!

Xoxo, El