How To Rule Your High School

Chapter 8: A Rock and a Hard Place

   Step 1: Phone Courtney and vent for a few minutes, then brainstorm a good excuse for Saturday. Step 2: Phone Deanna and/or Katie to diffuse rumors. Step 3: Phone Will with phony excuse. 4: Find Tyler and explain.

     If only life were that simple. Fixing all of today's whacked out events with 4 simple steps would only be possible if I had that little "Easy Button" like on the Staples commercials. God I wish I could find myself an Easy Button right about now.

     Walking out of school through the gym entrance, I completely bypassed the front lawn and whatever demons were sure to be lurking there. Snapping my sunglasses on my face, I walked at an insanely fast pace towards the parking lot. And it wasn't even my regular A-lister walk. It was like, a regular, non-swishy-hips walk. I guess I was just that unnerved.

     As I got to the car, Ethan was leaning on it. I'd succumbed and agreed to drive him home, but that was before last period English class with Deanna, Katie, Brad, Olivier, and Craig. English was like the worst class ever, solely because of the disgustingly high concentration of junior A's. Heck, we even had Danielle Burke, queen of the B's. Now just imagine what that would have been like; me sitting there, victim of a particularly nasty rumour, surrounded by eager and dumb junior A's who all vehemently believed said rumour. Not pretty.

     The sad thing was that math class (yes, math class! I think I'm morphing into a nerd...) had put me in a considerably better mood after I'd decided to drive Ethan home. I mean, nobody saw us yesterday so chances are nobody would see us today. And besides, I've got the feeling I can actually vent to Ethan and not get a "Wow, you're a heinous bitch for saying that about your friends," or a "Aww, sweetie, come here and let me hug your troubles away." What I needed was some action...like, real action, not sexy action, obviously. Action as in doing something to get revenge. Hatching a plot, making an alliance, egging a house...okay, maybe not egging a house, but something to cause pain or damage to evil manwhore William Dawson.

   "Chill buttercup," Ethan said, as I ripped the door open and hurled my stuff into the back seat. I fixed him with a truly vicious, Medusa-like glare as I attempted to slide into the car. But Ethan stopped me by blocking the way with his arm.

   "Get the hell in or leave!" I hissed. He looked genuinely surprised.

     "Whoa there Maddie, calm down. You gonna tell me what happened or drive us into a ditch because you're so angry," he said. I looked at him, totally bewildered. His words held absolutely no sarcasm or mockery, just what seemed to be pure, genuine concern.

     "You already know," I snapped, my temper somewhat diffused from my banshee-like cursing state.

     "Okay, but you weren't this pissed off in class," he said. He was using that patient tone you use only with exceptionally angry kids and moody pre-teens. I wanted to claw his eyes out for it, but restrained myself.

     "I had English, okay? English with 5 other pigheaded, shit-for-brains junior A's," I said through gritted teeth. I bowed my head, inhaling deeply. I should probably listen to Ethan and chill out before I started driving. Who knows, I might be tempted to run over the first junior A I came across.

     "No wonder you're pissed. You gonna be okay?" he asked, bending down so he could look up into my downturned face. I nodded mutely. He straightened while patting me on the back.

     "You should go take a run on your treadmill or whatever it is you rich girls do to keep those endorphins up," he said, returning to his usual sarcastic self. I made a face at his back as he made his way around the car to the passenger side.

    Peering around once again, everybody nearby (who luckily weren't any juniors that I knew) seemed engrossed in their own affairs. I nodded to myself and slid into the driver's seat.