Miss Make-Believe

Prologue

The first day of senior year.

We often dream of that day, don’t we? Where some of us who are megalomaniacs spend the entire night before the first day of school, dreaming about different phases of superiority, power and dominance over the weak, the other part of the crowd decides to simply have fun. Where the geeks decide to give it their best to earn a scholarship to one of the country’s best colleges; the popular crowd pledges to keep its reputation and bitchiness intact.

But I, Whitney Forbes am not from any which category mentioned above.

Yes, I did think of high school during summer a lot of times but definitely not because of my non-existent level of excitement or fake thoughts of high school being a surreal place like heaven. I pondered over the grisly concept of an ending summer solely because I hate high school. It is a debauched place with superficial cliques, goddesses of artifice, despondent Goths and stupid jocks. It’s like there is no room for normalcy at all.

That place is seriously fucked up.

Whitney, semantics!, my annoyed conscience chastised me almost convincingly and I rolled my eyes.

Up until the very school day, I tried my best to not think about that malevolent place but my resolve remained alive ephemerally because as soon as I slid inside my Beetle, images and flashes of that ugly, grey building flooded my head and all I could do was hold in a silent sob and bid farewell to good times. I had no clue what the day held for me in store but all I knew was that school would be boring as school.

I was right.

The melancholic vibes mixed with the vibes of monotony and soon, I thought I was going to pass out. It wasn’t until the time when my best friend Suzanne’s hand wrapped around my shoulders that I felt relief break the dam and flow inside me freely.

“Hey girlfriend!” She sounded way too cheery for a first day.

I snatched my Calculus book out of my locker and shut it with a bang before turning around. “Hey, Suz!” I sounded depressed.

She must have sniffed my underwhelming mood because her own mood dampened all too soon. “Wow! You sound awesome.”

I love Suzanne because she’s my best friend and she embraces awesomeness like no one else in this entire school. She’s pretty good looking. Her long black hair, five feet two inches stature, fair complexion, grey eyes and thin lips make her what she is: Suzanne Rox, a girl who believes is better than the best but doesn’t care to brandish it. Maybe that’s why we’re best friends in the first place. But unlike me, Suzanne thinks that life’s a fairytale where princes sweep princesses off their feet and take them away on their magnificent white horses. Princes kiss their princesses sweetly and tell them that everything in the world would be alright. Then, they get married, have a couple kids and live happily ever after.

Could’ve fooled me!

But for Suzanne, I guess I’m ready to comply with all those times when she yaps about all this fantastical rubbish, thinking that I’m listening all too willingly when in actuality, I’m zoned out each time.