The Official Beauty Rules (according to Claire Mintz)

Chapter 2: How to open packages like a lady.

It is one o'clock am. Two Wolfsfelds are left in the house.

Hailey, along with my mother, is drunk. They are in a corner, giggling about something that I'm sure is not that funny, as they continue to take little sips of expensive vodka.

Eli is in the living room which has now been transformed into a dance floor. He is dancing alone like an ecstatic monkey and completely unaware of it. I conclude that he is definitely a beach kind of guy, not a hard party person.

I, on the other hand, am squeezed in a little cluster of people, jumping and throwing my fist in the air as if my life depends on it. Celine and I shout random words, and the group shouts back gibber as a response.

On my left, Andrew Torres, known for being the leader of our school's football team and for having one of the highest overall average, comes closer and places his hand on my waist. He was my math tutor. He is the sane reason as to how my math grade went from an 86 to a 92 by the end of the year. No doubt he can make anything seem cool. I feel cool just dancing with him.

Eleanor Ennis, who was my lab partner, is grinding on Anthony Wasserman from gym class. Elly and I assisted one another with most of our experiments. She was good in chemistry while I excelled in biology and physics. Wiithout Tony I would not have survived the horrors and the torture of phys-Ed. They make a cute couple.

Sounds fill my ears and stars of pink and blue and purple fill my vision, though I swear I am completely sober. Everyone around me have these expressions the youth make when they're trying to be rebellious, and I sum up that these are my friends who have definitely never, ever been in a party passed midnight.

Most of the people I'm with in school are in between nerdy and popular. I'm sure not all schools have this awkward mix, but it works well for both teachers and students. Basically, this crowd are the people who study their butts off, and at the same time manage to do fun, cool stuff like wake boarding and attending pool parties. They're limited to some extent though. Most of them are straight edge. No smoking, no drinking, no drugs.

At one point we all get tired. I'm sweating and it's okay because we all are. We are children who are not wasting their youth but are living it. And I'm thankful that my circle of friends get the best of both worlds.

A little mountain of presents have accumulated against the wall. It looks as if it's about to fall. As I am thinking this, someone shouts, "Open your gifts!" Then they all chant the mantra as they stare at me, as if doing so will hypnotize me into following them.

I yell, "Fine!" And we make a dimented U shape on the carpeted floor, me as the centre of attention.

I rip up the wrapped presents violently. I've heard before that it's bad luck to open your gifts carefully, and so I tear it apart, ensuring my good fortune. As I rupture away the paper everyone cheers me on. I open up to books, books, and more books.

"Seriously? Haven't you guys seen her bedroom? It's already a library," Allison says. She's in my English class and was my partner for an independent study unit. She saw my bookshelf when she came over to work on our project, and never again did she doubt if my creative writing and essays are plagiarized.

I grab a pretty, petite gift bag with silver flower petals intricately placed on the front, creating a unique motif. I handle it with care, one by one opening up the tissue paper. I see neon pinks, oranges, and yellows, and take one to hold up and show myself and everyone.

It's a lacy, sheer thong.

The group bursts into laughter and the boys whistle.

"That's from me," Christopher shouts and the other guys give him high fives and praise. I should've expected this. He's also in my English class. Half trouble maker, half nerd.