Dangerous Game

Chapter 2

        Another day another failure. How was I supposed to know we had an AP English paper due today? Ok I suppose the fact that it was assigned two weeks ago should have meant something. But honestly, with all the other unnecessarily hard classes I have, and the fact that teachers assign homework as if we have no other classes, slipping up was inevitable.

It's not that I'm a slacker, it's just that I expect too much from myself, I guess. My parents want me to be a doctor (of course they do), or perhaps a plastic surgeon, like them. My parents are freaking loaded, which is nice because I can afford all the donuts I want. Mmmm donuts.... I want some right now... ok I'm getting off topic, where was I? Oh yeah, stupid English paper.

    I have never felt so embarrassed in my life. Mrs Meyer was all like "Kim, I thought you were more responsible than this" and some other stuff I blocked out while I mostly looked down at my feet and tried not to cry. As someone who never talks to people, having everyone's eyes on me was painful. I wanted to disappear but Mrs Meyer was not done yet.

    "To make up for turning it in late, you will have to do a speech in front of the class, about The Great Gatsby."

    A speech. A freaking speech. In front. Of. The .Class. HAHAHAHAH ok she's gotta be joki- oh she's serious. Well. Ok that's fine, I got this. I force a smile and say "of course Mrs Meyer, thank you so much for accepting it late" and go back to my seat. Except I'm fat so I hit some poor kid's face with my voluptuous derrière in the process of squeezing into my midget sized desk. And this was just first period.

As my best (only) friend Jemma Reynolds and I walked to AP Spanish class, we ran into Cara Soldera and her friend thingies. I guess they have names but I honestly don't care enough to learn them. Cara is the one I know because she has been tormenting me since sixth grade. If I told you that she is pretty, popular, blonde, and a cheerleader, you'd think that was cliche. She's actually not a natural blonde- so there you go.

*6th grade* Cara: "Kim open your eyes!... Kim, I saw your relative Shamu at Sea World...Kim, you're so fat you probably use a mattress as a maxi pad...etc"

*Now, 11th grade* Cara: "Hey Kim, do you realize Panda Express is in the opposite direction, right?"

Cara never fails to amaze me. You'd think that after five years, she would gain at least a couple more brain cells so her IQ points would go from plastic bag to at least her jean size, but no, her insults are still as lame as they always were. Of course that doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt, but I can never show her how much it affects me.

At least I have Jemma. Jemma is easily one of the most majestic beings that has ever walked the unworthy halls of Wesley High. She is incredibly smart, and she's got a beautiful athletic body of actual model proportions. We met last year, when Jemma moved from New York, and she was too new to know that I was not one of the cool kids. It turned out well though, because Jemma doesn't care about all that shallow popularity nonsense, and just wants someone she can binge on Netflix with.

Jemma is African American, and she has beautiful curly hair and rich dark skin that she is insecure about thanks to people like Cara. I think Cara is secretly jealous, because Jemma is 5'10, has the best butt and legs in the entire school, and is captain of the volleyball team which Cara didn't make. You know she's bad when even being the principal's daughter can't get her into the team.

    Cara glances over at Jemma, a look of disdain in her eyes. Her equally intellectually challenged minions I mean friends follow. "Do you even own a hairbrush? It's like you try to look homeless on purpose."

    "What's a hairbrush?" Asked Jemma innocently. "Actually don't tell me. I probably don't have to use it because I have a volleyball tournament later today." With that, she grabbed my arm and we bolted without bothering to see Cara's face.
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AP Spanish is one of my favorite classes. First of all, because Señor Lopez makes and shows us Spanish memes, and also because Dillon Austin Colt is in that class. It's the only AP class he takes, so its the only class I have with him. Sighing softly, I stare at him from afar. What a lovely specimen. His shoulders are so broad, his Adam's apple so cute, and that ketchup stain on his polo was the finishing touch on a work of art.

    From across the room, Jemma pretended to dry heave into her backpack. She doesn't approve of DAC. She thinks he's a "massive egotistical dick of epic proportions" but she just doesn't understand our love. Dillon and I were meant for each other. In first grade he gave me his bag of cheetos. If that's not love, I don't know what is.

As class continues, I feel someone's finger digging into my back. I absolutely hate it when people do that, so I turn around, ready to fight until I see they're holding a piece of paper. It's a note from Jemma, which reads:

Don't freak out, but the girls next to me are saying they think Dillon will ask you to prom tomorrow!!!! It's not confirmed, so please don't freak

I didn't finish the note because I was freaking out. LIKE WOW. You know that feeling of optimism you get when you know something is improbable, yet possible? Like just because you're not old enough to get married yet, you dare to daydream about being married to a smoking hot movie star or a billionaire, and just because you're not old enough to be president yet, you daydream about it happening someday, because it very well could. Probable? No. Possible? Well, its not impossible. That was how I felt for the rest of the day. Optimistic as fuck. Prom wasn't over yet, which meant that there was a chance I actually could be asked by Dillon Austin Colt. Maybe he finally came around and realized that I was the one who understood him, and had been there all long, and finally saw that he belonged with me.

    These happy thoughts consumed me as I walked home, that I didn't even notice Luka Colt, sitting on his curb. Luka is Dillon's fraternal twin brother. Ten minutes younger and ten times less attractive, most people either forgot or never knew that he was related to Dillon. He is skinny, almost scrawny, more than a couple inches shorter, and has dirty blond hair thats's not nearly as shiny as Dillon's brown locks. I feel bad for him. I mean its bad enough to be unpopular (I would know) but I imagine it would be worse if you had to live with one of the most popular people at school. I can't imagine constantly being on guard all the time, but maybe its easier for siblings.

"Hey Kim!" Said Luka brightly. "How was your day?"

"It... was a day."

Luka gave me a sad smile. "Maybe tomorrow will be better," he suggested.

Wait did he just say that?? Tomorrow?? As in the day Dillon might ask me to prom?? I knew it! I knew it was true. Obviously Luka would know who his twin was asking to prom. Unable to hide my glee, I worked on my late essay and speech, convinced that nothing could bring me down. As of tomorrow, my life was going to change for the better. Or so I thought.
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Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed! Comments, and constructive criticism are always welcome :)