The Homecoming Agenda

step five; don't let the douche eat your lunch

step five; don't let the douche eat your lunch

“Hey Alaina, question?”

            I was in psychology, doing our assigned classwork, when a prep bitch sat down at the desk next to me. She crossed her legs and folded her arms loosely across her lap, like this was some dinner with the president. Her camisole was neatly tucked into her pencil skirt, matching her heels. She had her hair pulled back in an elegant bun, and her makeup was done perfectly. She was on her way to an Ivy League college, like the rest of her prep followers. Her and Jason were the leaders of the popular preps; all Harvard bound with early admission.

“Yeah?” I lifted my eyes to look at her briefly before focusing back on the barely done worksheet that was due at the end of class.

            She tilted her head to the side slightly. “Are you really going out with Matt Thompson?” Her eyes widened.

Although she was a popular, the closest she had ever gotten to a stoner was Jason and the jocks. Preps and Stoners rarely associated, unless teaming up with the other populars to ruin everyone else at the school’s lives. Namely mine.

            Damn, rumors spread fast. I nodded, still looking at the paper on my desk. I was trying to figure out how to explain ‘cognitive dissonance’ correctly without having to ask the smart guy sitting next to me for the answer for like the tenth time this period.

“Seriously?” She snorted. “He’s such a loser. I mean, you're not much better, but at least you’re going somewhere in life. Even if it's just the street corner.” She laughed like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard in her life. Bitch.

            I narrowed my eyes at her. “Well at least I can actually get a boyfriend, unlike you. How’s Jason? Oh that’s right, he’s not dating you, but your best friend. How does that make you feel?”

            Last week I had overheard her and some bitch talking about her love for Jason. Apparently her best friend stole him from her, yadda yadda blah blah. I don’t really give a fuck.

“I… I have no idea what you're talking about.” Her eye twitched, but she held her head high. She promptly stood up, smoothed out her skirt, and walked back to her seat, trying to look dignified. I chuckled to myself.

            Populars were too fun to mess with.

            The girl had gotten back to her seat and was telling her friend what had happened. She turned around to glare at me. I smiled and waved, like the polite little bitch everyone most likely wanted me to be, instead of a supposed slut. Guess the jokes on them; I'm neither.

            I spent the rest of class working on the handout silently. When the bell rang, I turned it in and headed down to lunch, avoiding the bitch and her little prep followers. I found Vena and Jen at our usual table, already fighting, as it seemed.

“What’s wrong this time?” I said as I sat down opposite from Jen. I pulled my lunch out of my bag as I waited for a reply. My mom had made me a peanut butter sandwich today, which I prepared to throw in the trash. It was already soggy.

“You.” Vena raised a brow. “The rumor about you and Matt specifically.”

            I shrugged. “Yeah.” I figured that was as much as an answer as I needed to give, they’d understand what I was implying.

            I was right.

“Like for real, or just to get Carl off your back?” Vena looked at me innocently, and cocked her head to the side. Jen grimaced.