The IT Couple

It is senior year!

Ivory's POV

I dread Mondays. Waking up early, getting dressed, and just seeing people in general is not something I like to face. New freshman arrive and flood the halls, walking on the wrong side of the hallway. You see the same cliques all judging each other. All happening on the first day of school.

I got up from my soft, fuzzy pink bed and take a cautious look in the mirror. I never really care about how I look, but I was surprised that I actually looked presentable this morning. As a habit, I check my phone for any miscalls or texts.

Hanna: Car won't start :/ pick me up? Please?

Kate: Wake up! We're seniors now. Oh and I heard Macy's coming back...

Macy Riner is coming back. My best friend since pre-school. We were like peanut butter and jelly. Inseparable. Unfortunately, I haven't talked to her for 2 years ever since she moved to South Carolina. I'm not sure whether I should be excited or nervous? Ever since we were sophomores it's been only me, Hanna, and Kate. The 3 amigas. Now I'm afraid things will be different. Don't get me wrong, I still love Macy, it's just that I don't want to get my hopes up for something that could go terribly wrong.

After, I put the phone down and make my way to the shower. I decided to use this new Dove shampoo I bought to  hopefully make my hair soft and silky, something that's been incapable of happening for the past lifetime. Getting out, I make my way to the closet. I'm known for my style of sweat everything but have decided to dress nice today, seeing that it is the first day of school. So I carefully choose a navy blue, knee length dress and silver flats. I then let my hair flow down my back. I'm not a fan of make up, so I go natural.

After I finished getting dressed, I examine myself in the mirror leaned on the corner. I focus on my blue eyes and wavy blonde hair, that I really should start taking better care of. My acne free face and slim physique. My noticeable curves and fair skin. This is not one of those times where the girl is ashamed of how she looks or who she is. I'm confident in my body and who I am. I don't care about what people think. I wear my skin proudly.

It's already 6:45 so I grab a banana and make my way to my car parked on the drive way.

Honk. Honk. "Hurry up!" I scream at Hanna as she's making her way towards my blue Toyota. I've saved up for it since freshman year so Pricilla is very precious to me. Yes, I name my cars. Don't judge me.

Hanna is wearing black sweat pants and a Redville Knights T-shirt, which she's managed to pull off. She's pretty with her baby blue eyes and blonde hair, similar to mine. Although, her hair is super thick and straight, unlike mine. She's a bit smaller than me, but not by much. I've always admired Hanna for her ability not to give a crap about what anyone thinks. People judge her. People try to intimidate her, but she just laughs it off like it's nobody's business. Something that a lot of people lack of.

"I'm coming! Why are you still honking?" She yells, jogging up to the car. I blush as I realize that my hand is still resting on the horn.

On our way to Redville High, we stop at a stop light and encounter Trace Lucas on a red Cruiser. He has a black leather jacket on, which is really stupid considering it's 75 degrees outside, a white shirt, jeans, and black converse. He notices me as I try to avoid him by turning my head the opposite way of his direction.

"Nice ride," he laughs, raising his black sunglasses. I give him the finger and drive away. The look of shock on his face is priceless. I really didn't feel like dealing with him this early in the morning.

Here's the story: It was pre-school. We're reading some pathetic book about an apple and a worm. I was laughing at the hilarious faces Macy was showing me from across the room. We were such good friends back then. All of a sudden I felt this cold, gooey substance on my head. I touch my hair screaming. As I look at my now slimy hands, I come to find that Trace Lucas had put glue on my hair. Everyone laughed at me, while I was rushed to the bathroom to try to get the glue off. I don't know what he's had against me, but ever since pre-school he's tortured me. So I gave him a taste of his own medicine. I did things like got him into trouble by the teacher, after school detentions, and humiliations. One day we were in the hall and Trace had gotten slapped, HARD, by Stephanie Williams. He "accidentally" grabbed her butt. He then walked away and I nonchalantly tripped him. Everyone started laughing. I didn't give a rat's ass. He deserved it. Poor Stephanie. She always gets violated like that. Ever since then he's tried twice as hard to make my life a living hell.

We make our way out of the car towards Redville High and I see my other friend Kate, frantically waving at us. She's dressed in Nike sweats and her hair is up in a messy bun. She's quite stunning with her emerald green eyes, and red hair. Kate is the definition of athletic. She plays volleyball, soccer, basketball, and field hockey. Unlike Hanna and me, who have blonde hair, blue eyes, and stay away from anything that involves a ball... or movement.

She gives us huge hugs and is creepily excited. "No sweats?" she asks seeing that I'm attired in a dress.

"No I thought I would dress up for once. It is senior year!" I smirk. She laughs and we walk away, heading towards our classes. 

I sit there nervously tapping my pencil. Mr. Simmon's class has always been the hardest. No one has ever gotten higher than a B. I have always been a bookworm, having my own special grading system. A for awesome. B for bad. C for crappy. D for don't even think about it. F for find a new home. So I think you can see why I'm frantically tapping my pencil. I must do well in his class.

I had almost completely forgotten about Trace, until he came in late.

"Sorry I'm late." He says, grinning as he casually strolls in. Mr. Simmons looks annoyed, but he doesn't make a huge deal out of it. He can't do anything about Trace's undisciplined ignorance. Trace is the school's football star. He's popular, somewhat good-looking, and filthy rich. Thanks to his parents being the CEO of whatever they own. He's never really talked about them before. Nor has anyone ever met them. Everyone in the school adores him. So they refuse to punish him for the endless number of vandalism he's attempted. People have tried numerous attempts into making the social world of high school equal, but their results are failures. Redville High just naturally separated into cliques! And Trace is Mr. Popular.

"Tsk. Tsk. Same old Trace. Take a seat," says Mr. Simmons, obviously angry. Seeing that the only available seat was next to me Trace hesitates then takes the seat. I glance at him and give him a look of disgust, rolling my eyes, and covering the side of my face directed towards him. "You're already staring at me." He remarks.

"You wish." I whisper back, scrunching my four head. Or as Trace calls it.... five head.

"Okay class. First thing to start off with: these seats will be your seats for the whole year. Enjoy them," says Mr. Simmons. Trace sounds an unnecessarily loud moan, expressing his disagreement.  Great. I wonder what pranks that conniving, evil, devil-boy, Trace, has planned for me this year.

~

After 1st period is over I head for my locker. As I'm putting my stuff in my locker, I see this stunningly, gorgeous brunette standing at her locker, chatting with all of the girls in our grade that judge people by what they wear, typical.

Realizing who this is, I make my way over to her locker.

"Hey Macy!" I greet, tapping her shoulder.

"Don't look guys maybe she'll go away," she rudely whispers.

"Macy stop messing around, I've missed you." I say as I warily eye her minions beside her.

"Can't say I've felt the same. Go away. Don't you see I'm busy? Let's just pretend this never happened," says Macy, in a sassy tone.

"I..I." I stutter.

"Nothing to say? That's what I thought. Goodbye," she says. She spins around, and I could hear her and her friends laughing at my rosy cheeks and embarrassed facial expression. She then slams her locker and walks away. The clicking of her heels teasing me.

I walk away, tears threatening to spill, but hold them back because I have a full day ahead  of me.