The Eighth Breakup ✓

Chapter 1 Oh Look, My Favorite Snob

Please don't hesitate pointing out errors and typos.

Chapter 1: Oh Look, My Favorite Snob

Has anyone ever suffered from an extreme case of . . . idiotism?

Idiotism: when one consistently makes stupid decisions and takes foolish actions (due to peer pressure, in my case) that leads to his or her downfall.

In simpler words, you screw yourself over.

The three friends of my older sister were taking revenge for her.

"You can't even help?"

"You're not gonna take revenge on the guy who broke your sister's heart?"

"Helen, you're a bad sister!"

They screamed at me. I couldn't even differentiate between who yelled what.

So, that's how I fell in the trap of peer pressure as I got out of the car, got handed the last two trays of eggs, and pushed closer to the now spray painted house. My sister's friends were vandalizing the property of our school principal, unknowingly. I let them. In my defense, his son did break my older sister Hestia's heart.

No one was home. They had been gone on a vacation to the Caribbean since beginning of winter break. From there, on the phone, Jason broke up with Hestia last week. It was now the day before New Years'.

The girls shouted at me to do something.

"I can't believe this," I mumbled as I picked up the first egg and threw it at the front door. It was just our luck that no one was home . . . and the house was isolated from the rest of the neighborhood with all the trees around, acting as guards.

Moving closer, I knocked over something near my feet. A garden gnome. Not just one, rather a whole lot of them around. Walking clumsily, I accidentally knocked some more over on my way.

Darn!

Nevertheless, the three other girls kind of pushed me and forced me to keep egging the place. By the time I started the second tray of eggs, I was getting carried away. It was Zeitgeist or "spirit of the age." It was the spirit of the moment that I was doing what I was doing. 

Wait, I really shouldn't be using terms that once described the period where people in Germany were becoming Nazis and killing innocents. 

"Selena! Give me your tray!" I shouted as I threw the last egg I had.

Selena Pecks was a tall blond, with the biggest green eyes in the neighborhood, and the loudest voice. She was my sister's closest friend.

"Helen, Selena, Jane! Stop! We need to leave," said the other blond--Percilla Graten, my sister's second best friend.

She was one of those goody-goody people in front of adults, but behind the scenes, she was a different person. One minute, she is super excited, full of energy, and just over the top daredevil, and the next minute, she turns back into the goody too shoes. Make up your mind, woman!

Percilla ran to her car and got inside along with the two other girls. They were tired and exhausted from the screaming, egging, and spray painting. I was still adding on finishing touches. Knock over more gnomes.

Fantastic.

For some reason, something felt odd . . . different.

As if I was being watched.

Ignoring, I stood up with a satisfied grin and heard calls from the girls to get moving. Enough damage had been done.

I hurried over to the car and we drove away.