How to be popular

Letters and pencils

Walking barefoot up the cement driveway was my dad, mister David Jones, not even dressed in his day clothes, his hair still messy. The sweatpants he was wearing were baggy on his legs, and his Hard Rock cafe shirt was becoming a size to small. He pushed up his glasses, but they just fell back down his nose because he was looking down.
Me on the other hand, I was dressed. I had to be dressed this early for school. I was in the eleventh grade, about thirteen weeks into the school year. .

I walked to the mirror by the front door to make sure everything looked in place. Well, make sure all the flaws looked unnoticeable. My dirty blond hair was long, and so straight that I couldn't curl it, my skin had a light and delicate tone, and never tanned the slightest. My eyes were a deep and dark green, a trait from my mom. I was tall-ish, and sort of slim, but I accepted myself.

Thanksgiving was coming up soon, and boy was I ready for a little break.

When he got up the steps to the wooden porch, he handed me a letter. When I looked at it, I discovered it was from my fabff (far away best friend forever) Jessie. She moved to Utah two summers ago, and since we think it's more fun to write each other, we do. Without thought I ripped it open and skimmed through the letter.

Hey Alex! What up? Everything here is normal, and boring. Okay, I'm going to skip to the good part. There is a small package with a surprise inside. but the reason I didn't put the letter with it was because I know you would look at the surprise first. Its something that helped me and it will help you. Love ya!

I grinned and shook my head, she was such a goofball! I missed hanging out with her, she was always so much fun to hang out with m.

I went inside and automatically went to the kitchen, where I knew my dad would be sitting at the table going through the mail drinking his French vanilla coffee. When I sat down, he handed me the package.

"Its from Jessie so I knew it would be for you."

I took it from him and opened it. I creased my eyebrows and felt around the paper covered object. To me it felt like a book. Something for school? My hands ripped open the paper, and my guess what right, it was a book.

It was titled: How to be popular. By Linn Foster.

I don't how I'm supposed to describe how I felt. Maybe a mixture of confusion, suprised, weird. Really Jessie? Does it look like I care about the harsh and the disgusting world of popularity? Not trying to he rude.

My dad put down his cup of coffee and stretched over a little to see what I had received. He shook his head.

"You two have a weird friendship." I smiled to myself and placed strands of my dark brown hair behind my ear.

"We consider it special not weird."

"Whatever. I didn't even think you cared about stuff like that?"

"I don't. This was a surprise." I noticed the small basket of muffins in the middle of the table, so I went for my favorite: banana nut. Breathing in the sweet smell, I took a bite.

Dad turned the page of the newspaper. "Then I guess your brain hasn't gotten the idea of popularity yet."

"I guess not."

It was just me and my dad. My mom died when I was around 18 months old due to cancer. My dad didn't like to talk about it, so I never asked the questions I wanted to know about her.

. . . . . . . . . .

Speed walking, not running, I squeezed, twisted, and turned through the thick crowds. High school, sure, the clubs and the thought of graduating is cool, the classes, the work, and the people can be a little tough. I almost drop my stuff twice, the second time even closer. Second period was animal science, and on the opposite side of school. First period was English, my worst subject.

The halls were alive with voices and people. Passing by the choir, I heard their beautiful voices together, warming up for class. I was never really into clubs or sports, except basketball. I was so good at basketball. Now I've been playing for seven years.

When I was five, my dad put me in a pageant. I'll never forget it. Every parent wanted their little girl to be Miss Golden Christmas. All the other girls were so dressed up in red, blue, green, and gold, like me. I was in a knee length golden dress that had laced flowers covering it. My hair was curled and had a golden bow in it. I was perfect, according to my dad. I hated it. I wouldn't go on stage and prance around, I even tore up my golden bow. By that time my dad knew I wasn't going to be prissy.

And I swore to myself that I would stay a tomboy.

When I got to class I sat beside Doug, my best friend since preschool. He was doodling on a notepad of random things. It was a hobby of his, since he enjoyed art so much. His dark brown hair was swept back, his clothes still the same: causal and cool, basically just a random colored t-shirt and jeans. He stopped doodling and looked up, his eyes were not alert, as if he had been sleeping.

"Hello miss Alex Jones." He said with a smile.

"Hey."

I kept the book from Jessie in my book bag so I could show Doug. My fingers wrapped around the book, and slipped it out of the bag. I sat it on his desk. He looked at me weird.

"Jessie gave it to me. She said it would 'help me', but I don't know, to be honest."

He picked it up and flipped to random pages. "A book about tips on how to be popular? Jessie's a dingbat."

"I'd have to agree with you there." Doug also knew Jessie before she moved. All three of us were the best of friends. For hours we'd hang out after school and on weekends. We were the three musketeers.

I sat down and crossed my legs, left on right. "I think we should read it."

"You're joking."

"Nope, I'm not."

He sighed. "Why?" I refuse to be on the same level as popular kids."

"Because we are indivisible wallflowers to everyone else, and our high school lives are boring! We need to make some friends."

He was starting to get ill with me, I could tell, he had that look. "I really don't mind being in the shadows, Alex."

"Fine then, I'll do it on my own." I let out a huffy breath, and started to put the book away.

He rolled his eyes at me. "We can't have you doing this on your own." He sat there for a second. Then he took the book back. "Well, we better get started then."

I smiled to myself.