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Chapter 11- Hey There, Hipster

Chapter 11- Hey There, Hipster 

“Clark, I have never been so angry in my entire life!” I exclaim, putting my earbuds in my ears and setting my iPhone down.

“I can see why you’d be upset and you have every right to be, but please, stop shouting. I’m getting a migraine,” She complains.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize, blowing out an exasperated breath, still fuming at stupid Holland for that stupid thing she pulled today.

It’s been about six hours, I guess, since lunchtime and school is obviously out now. After the whole cafeteria thing, those three little school newspaper idiots didn’t go away. The remainder of the lunch block, they just sat there—  uninvited—  with Clark and me and the table, listening to us talk and the whole while, they just observed us and what not. It was very awkward and exactly uncomfortable, knowing people were deliberately watching us. I wonder if that’s how Mason always feels since he’s obviously famous and obviously always has the paparazzi on his tail. Of course it’s a lot worst for him since he’s actually like, known, which makes me feel even worse about the entire situation. Then again, the people that stalk him are real paparazzi—  those three newspaper jerks are just idiots with cameras and the ability to write a stupid like article for the bi-weekly school newspaper.

I haven’t heard from him all day, Mason, I mean, so I’m starting to wonder if the paparazzi found him—  it’s not like stupid Holland didn’t basically place a huge target on his back—  and that’s why he hasn’t called me or anything. He just usually texts me or something during the school day and he didn’t today, which just so happens to be the day that stupid Holland blew his cover. She’s so stupid. If I could see her right now, I’d probably hit her with my car. Not run her over or anything because she could die from that and as mad as I am at her, she’s still my friend and of course I don’t want her to die. Hitting her with my car would result in enough injury that she’d stop being such a jerk face though, I think. Like Regina George in Mean Girls—  she got hit by that bus and she wasn’t a totally awful person after it was all over. Yes, I’m aware that it’s just a movie, but still, the concept is real, I think. 

Honestly though, I can say that I’ve never been so mad at Holland in our entire friendship. Sure, I was a little upset with her last year in our junior year when she borrowed one of my favorite dresses and never gave it back. Yeah, I was pretty pissed that night she went to that party and got drunk, then tried to drive herself home because she was so drunk that it was literally a little bit sad and she totally could have killed herself or someone else. And yes, I was a little angry the other day when she called me so late at night to wake me up and tell me that Mason Carter was on the E! network or whatever channel it was. But all of that anger put together doesn’t even begin to match how irate I am with Holland Melbourne right now.

“I see where you’re coming from,” Clark assures me. “Holland’s being the biggest bitch in the world right now,” She adds.

“That is the most accurate statement I’ve heard all day,” I murmur. “Have you talked to her again since lunchtime?” I question.

“Yeah, I talked to her last block in study hall,” Clark informs me. Like I said, unfortunately, the three of have last block study hall together on ‘B’ days, which means that today I had to sit right beside Holland and fight against the urge to strangle her. Our study hall teacher, Mr. Van Buren, is pretty lax, so as long as we don’t move out of our assigned seats, he doesn’t really care if we talk, so long as we don’t get too loud. Anyway, I kept my mouth shut the whole time because I know that if I’d opened it, I would have called Holland ever mean word I know. Which is a lot.