How to Be Cliche (A Novel)

(10) Blue Slushies 4 Lyfe

Enjoy! ;) Don't forget to VOTE and LEAVE FEEDBACK!! This is my 2013 Watty Awards Entry! Thank you for supporting it! :)))

******************************************************************************

                  I was sick to my stomach, and I was getting soft.

                  Really, really soft. Not the fat kind, the weak kind. And not physically...mentally. Was this even possible? Was I, Pepper Ballard, aka Master of Sarcasm and Hatred of All, honestly getting soft?

                  Code Red, this was definitely a Code Red. Code Red is the most severe, right? Or maybe it's Code Purple....

                   My brain was doing this thing that I couldn't put in words. Something that felt good in my mouth like savoring a Hershey Kiss and then crying miserably on the floor and rolling back and forth when you accidently chewed it.

                  And my mouth, oh, Lordy, Lordy, Lordy....Lord of the Rings, help me...my mouth was spurting out lies the entire day like a stupid little sprinkler that won't shut off. Every person I confronted about "the accident" in Mr. Trinidad's room with the gun shots had spread a different rumor and each one had gotten back to me.

                  I shot the teacher twice. I shot a student twice. I shot myself twice. I shot the wall twice. I shot the floor twice. I streaked through the halls with a Nurf Gun screaming, "It's the end of the Universe, beeotches!"

                  Finally, word was getting out what really happened. Or at least, the lie that we made up. Sin and I, that is.

                  The Grinch that Stole Happiness, the Scrooge of making friendships and complimenting people, was getting softer than soft. Softer than soft ice-cream. Softer than a puppies cute little floppy little ears -- that is, if they haven't rolled in mud or in their own poop.

                  Softer than that guys belly -- the guy that had the nerve to sit next to me on my first roller coaster in fifth grade, screamed in my face the entire ride, and then turned and threw up on my legs at the end of it all.

                   That's right, people. I was starting to care.

                  And like most idiot teenagers girls, this "caring" thing all started when I saw stupid Sin Trinidad sweaty and shirtless. I was willing to lie for this bastard. Holy French toast on waffles on pancakes on strawberries, I was starting to lie for him real hard, and I didn't even like him.

                  Ronny stabbed a fork into his salad, smoothing back his blonde gelled hair with his other hand. "Girl, I can't believe someone lit fireworks in the school while you were in the classroom! That's absolutely crazy. Stuff like that never happens at Mortimir."  

                  Ronny, Gary, and I were sitting in the cafeteria of Orange Gate County Mall after my first long day of school. To my utter disbelief, Gary and Ronny were brothers. I know, I know. It's hard to comprehend.

                  Ronny was into fashion. Gary was into Satan. Ronny liked to paint his friends' nails. Gary...was into Satan. Ronny had Justin Bieber and One Direction posters up in his room simply because they were hot. Gary liked to light things on fire. I know, talk about two different people, but they were actually step brothers, and both of them were 100% vampire. Neutral vampires, as Ronny clarified, which he also clarified  meant that his entire family had nothing against werewolves or humans. In fact, his family were "Squirrelterrians" as I called it, and only drank animal blood.