Jessica Thompson as That Girl

I. Mister Popular

Jessica's POV:

Jessica...that's my name.

I'm that girl in the back of the class.

That's all.

Please, exit from the story.

I am just kidding.

"Hallelujah!" I shout, packing up all my stuff.

"Nice to know you enjoy my lesson Jessica, but that was someone's cell phone ringing," the bald teacher said, causing the student to laugh at me.

I slid down my desk, resuming my stare into nothingness.

After what seems to be an eternity and mental questioning of who invented school, the bell rang. I shove all my stuff inside my backpack, crumbling the already wrinkle papers.

I am a straight B and C student, so I'm good with life.

I got it all plan out, graduate from high school, somehow pass a moderate college, get a 9-5 job that makes me want to jump off a bridge, find a man who is stupid enough to fall for me, have unappreciative children, and two dogs.

Throwing my backpack over my shoulders, I practically skip towards my damaged grassy chipped paint locker to get ready for lunch. I don't understand; the school has breakfast and lunch. Why don't they do brunch?

Brunch is a meal too.

I should start a campaign, something on the line of #givestudentsbrunchbreak.

The students were brushing past one another, gathering into groups inside the tiny germ-filled hallway. I tighten my backpack strap, gazing at the guy shoving his mouth in the school fountain water, basically frenching it.

OceanVille High School is similar to any typical public poorly funded academic institution. There are the geeks, nerds, freaks, plastics, elephants, seals, penguins. I'm serious; we have all of that. There is a zoo ten minutes away from our school.

I shudder at the memories of elephants' daily dumps.

Reaching the locker I had for the last four years because the school is too lazy to change the student's locker until we graduate. I twist the lock, putting in the code, which is the most important day of the year, my birthday.

Suddenly, someone grabs my waist, clawing into my flesh. "Boo!" He shouts into my ear.

"Brody!" I punch my brother, who playfully throws an arm over my neck, pinning me between his sweaty armpit.

"Thompson! Bro! Come on!" one of his jockey friends shouted, hollering him over.

Unlike me, who is a gold medalist in drowning like a rock, Brody is a dolphin with a six-pack. He is the school ace swimmer.

He glances at me, ruffling my unwashed hair. "I'll see you later?" He smiles, and I nod. Brody jogs towards his friend, giving me a two fingers salute. Even though Brody is slightly popular, he never changes. Some people at school are embarrassed to talk to their siblings who are low in the social pyramid, but not Brody.

Of course, I am not super low, where I am considered an outcast, but I'm not high either. Since I'm the younger sister of Brody Thompson, I'm bumped up to the middle of the ladder. Yay for being average on the social hierarchy!

"Hey Jessica," Krista, my best friend since the good ole day of diaper pooping, said.

She leans against the sticky lockers, clenching onto her backbreaking books. "Your brother is so hot." She releases what sounds like a moaning sound causing my eyes to roll.