Mistaken

“Dear God, kill me now.”

I laughed softly at the sheer panic that was obvious on my best friends’ face. “Hmm, let me guess,” I began, tapping my index finger to my chin in mock contemplation. “You didn’t study for the exam, did you, Liz?”

“How did you know?!” She asked, frantically flipping through the thousands (and that’s a pretty accurate guess) of notes she kept crammed in her poor little binder. It looked like it was ready to explode as soon as she opened it.

“Just a wild guess,” I said with a shrug, trying to stifle yet another chuckle at her frenzied state. She shot me a glare that only lasted for half a second before her gaze locked onto the notes. Her bright blue eyes flitted from left to right trying to absorb as much information as she possibly could before the bell rang. Which was in…

 “You’ve got 10 minutes, Liz,” I informed her, reaching into my backpack and pulling out my newest book-a fantasy novel about 700 pages long. I would most likely finish it by the end of the week.

“Lynn, put that stupid thing away and help me study!” Liz half ordered, papers flying everywhere as she tried to put them in some sort of order. I sighed and reluctantly slid the book back into my bag before I even had a chance to read the first word.

You see, that was the difference between me and my friends. They were the kids you see smoking at lunch, skipping class, gossiping, drinking, and spray painting graffiti on the walls.

Me? I was the sweet, quiet bookworm who never once had a detention, always managed to get above averages grades, and would rather read and write than text and party.

So then, why on earth were we friends? Simple, we had all grown up in the same area of town, the “wrong side of the tracks” if you will. It was the only place my parents could afford, and they rarely let me leave the house, but one day I decided to venture off and I met my best friends.

Liz, the ditzy, gossip-lover who sometimes doesn’t know when to shut up. Jared, the school’s generic bad boy, complete with spiky mohalk, tongue ring, and several run ins with the law. And then there was Christie. She has a new boyfriend every week, and a new hook up every day.

 But, say what you want about them, they’re my friends and I love them, no matter what.

“Lynne? Lynne!! Ugh, Evelynne Creed I’m trying to talk to you, missy!” Liz’s impatient voice shook me from my thoughts. “Oh, sorry Liz. What do you need help with?” I asked, reaching down to grab a few stray papers that had fallen on the floor.

“Everything!” She answered, panicking. “Lizzie, calm down, alright? Here, let’s start with ancient Rome,” I looked over her History notes, written in big bubbly pink letters.

History was my absolute favourite class. Unlike other high schoolers my age, I actually enjoyed learning about the past. My friends, of course, think I’m crazy.

 “Ah, here’s something easy. Name one of Rome’s emperors.” Liz pursed her sparkly-glossed lips, furrowing her blonde brows in concentration. “Um…….Frank?” It took most of my will power to stop from face-palming.

“No,” I told her, showing her an old note she had done all about ancient Roman emperors. “You could’ve said Caligula, Nero, Caesar Augustus, Julius Caesar-”

“Wait, why are all of their emperors named after salad dressing?” She asked, sincerely. I sighed, my patience quickly leaving me. Liz was obviously not the sharpest tool in the shed.

Luckily, we were soon joined by Jared, Christie, and some guy I didn’t know, but by the way Christie was cooing and fawning over him I guessed he was this weeks’ boyfriend. “Hey guys!” Christie beamed at the two of us.