For Your Eyes Only

2

"Kelly, I need you to be honest." My best friend since middle school, Alyssa, looks at herself in her pocket sized locker mirror. A slight smirk graces her fair features, turning her bright brown eyes narrow. "How freaking awesome is the year going to be?"

I have to laugh because my friend is much more enthusiastic than me. I enjoyed school. I get good grades though people always gossip that I have someone do it for me because how could someone who was popular be smart too? The whole concept makes me roll my eyes. But I never confirm or deny the rumors.

I can't help it that I like being involved in things. I am president of my senior class, captain of the cheer team, volunteered for my church, student council, and anything that I can put on my resume that would make me stand out to Ivy League Schools.

I am lucky that my high school career was thus far easy and dare I say, I am a little frightened to leave the safe halls of Stanton High School. So to say that Alyssa's excitement to leave was beginning to give me anxiety, was an understatement.

"I hope it's all that it's cracked up to be."

"God, you're so depressing, Kel," Alyssa teases, shutting her locker. "Stop worrying about the future and have some fun while you're young! Go out this weekend, rekindle the flame with Danny, and give him a good time, too."

I smile sheepishly at my best friend because it didn't pass me that she figured my boyfriend Danny and I were having problems. We used to be all passion, private makeout sessions between cheer and football practice behind the bleachers, constant texting, and hour long phone calls. But things changed between us ever since last summer.

The only reason we kept seeing each other was because, well, let's face it, it was good for our image. He was the star football player and I was the head cheerleader. It was all about the cliches.

I know that she is right but, not to be mean, Alyssa really doesn't have much going for her. She was tall and Latina and every guy's wet dream with her long wavy hair and big brown eyes. But she isn't the smartest; book wise or street. She would most likely become someone's trophy wife and never have to work a day in her life. Just like her mother. And mine.

I never understood how my mother could be a Dartmouth graduate and never work a day in her life. That will not be me. I will not rely on anyone to make my life good.

With a neurosurgeon father working 24/7, my mother and I are more than comfortable. My big haired mother got to buy all the fancy china and blowouts her little Southern heart desires and I get to go to the college of my dreams, Dartmouth. That is, if I get in.

Having a part time job is my idea. My parents do not approve, arguing that it takes away time from my school work but everyone else had a job. Plus, it gets me away from the in-crowd that seems to suck me in like a tsunami for a few hours out of my night.

But I try my hardest not to come off as rich or snobby, though some would say differently, with my nice clothing, designer handbags, and baby blue convertible. What I lack in conservative, I thrive in service.

Ever since last year's headlines of horror, I took the social high roads of being kind to every clique that walked the halls of Stanton. Whether they were band nerd or emo junkies, I always smile their way every morning or went out of my way to help dye Mary Wilson's hair the darkest shade of black in the girl's bathroom. I try telling myself that I am a good person but my guilty conscience tells a different story.

"Kelly," Alyssa drones, waving her hand infront of my face. She must have been repeating my name several times by the annoyed look now on her heart shaped face. "You zoned out again."

"Sorry," I sigh. I slam my locker shut and fall into step with the rest of the sea of students. I don't miss how the hall immediately parts to let me walk comfortably as I make my way to first period. "I'm just stressed. I haven't gotten an answer from Dartmouth, yet."