In every cliché story you will probably ever ready, you find the nerd girl or the new girl standing in the middle of the bad boy of the school who knows how to treat a girl right, and the blonde cheerleader with the fake champagne blonde hair of hers falling down to her waist in perfectly styles curls. His varsity jacket, the typical blue and white colour told his story from the day he was born to the day he dies. Her classic uniform, the ordinary blue and white colour told her story from the day she was born but maybe not until the day she dies. And then there was her, the girl stood in school wearing sweatpants and hoodies in attempts to cover herself, as if she didn't need to build the walls. The clothes she wore were just about enough to get anyone, in that fact, running for miles, begging for dear life.
During the years you spend in high school, you'll come to realize two small different things. You're either stuck with the bad boy who doesn't only know how to run a marathon but also knows his studies. He didn't train himself though and that's what got inside your veins. Then there was the other option, the option of having the boy who could have mistakenly had a brain transplant to exchange it for someone's old socks. He was probably the dumbest person who has ever existed adding another level of smartness to enable Albert Einstein to take a simple step up. He must be really ashamed of himself not being able to get the grades you need to pass an exam, the grades he would need to step on the pitch and be part of the match he has been waiting for.
Then there was the girl, the one who decided to wear the skimpy outfits to school only to gain the attention of every boy she crosses throughout the day. Her minions were normally dumb and I'm not trying to be stereotypical, I'm just stating everything I had passed. The unbearable heals she sported to school every day didn't help but make the loudest and the most horrendous noise in the world stopping people from writing half way through their sentence when she walks by. The sad part was, she knew what she was capable of when it came to the curriculum but she didn't want that gift. She wanted to be a bimbo, the bimbo who understood everything being said but decided to stay on the down low with the brain level, she thought they'd get the boys she's been crushing on to tutor her but it was always the nerd boy that took that spot.
The nerdy girl. The smart one usually stuck tutoring the bad boy whether she was smart or not, teachers just took the easy way out with trying to show off their student, bragging about the smart girl and boy. She was pretty and always appreciated the neutral look. She'd attend masked parties with her best friends so even if she did happen to come across a boy, they wouldn't know who she is. Friday night, her favourite time of the week. Me being the nerd girl in my years meant I knew how this worked. Going to parties, getting drunk were generally the best things in life, not being recognized by anyone who she came across was just a bonus, a bonus to help her stay unknown. That was definitely how the life rolls.
And finally the new girl, the one who had way more potential than her old school ever expected. She'd walk into school unknown to the student body and somehow end up bumping into one of the boys equipped with the varsity jacket, a capital 'A' taking up part of the left side. His dirty blonde hair trimmed shorter from the side would be the type to cover his emerald green eyes only shining from the parts showing between the locks falling down. The signature smirk would slowly take home into his sculpted face exposing his perfect blinding white and straight teeth he had been given since the day he was born. Then she'd suddenly take notice of the muscular arms wrapped around her waist stopping her from falling down on her ass. Most girls would be left swooning at his feet, following him around like a lost puppy while others were blessed to be left speechless in his presence.
Then there was me, there's nothing wrong with me but people just always seemed to find me odd. I've never been the girl who was able to fit in with the girls and stick with them like superglue. The girls I had come across during my numerous moves after having to get away from our original house were always the ones that were too disgusted to roll around in mud, too revolted to get clay stuck in their fingernails and too sickened to play out in a storm when Mother Nature hands it to you on a silver palate. The boys on the other hand were the type that would judge any girl at any chance they get, it's surprising how you're not exactly perfect yet you still manage to go around pointing fingers. They were the type of boys that could play a friendly game of wrestling and shake it off like nothing happened and the type of boys that could have a fight yet find it in themselves to celebrate straight after. Then we're back to the girls, when they had a fight they meant business. Teaming up in each other, gossiping, spreading rumours and back chatting. They would dig down and get filthy when it came to bitch fights but a little fun was just out of the question.
