be my 1 regret / then

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6 years ago~


"Oh my gawd. What is she doing here?"

"I know right? It's like she just doesn't get it that no one wants her here."

"Do you think she knows that Tucker is just using her? I mean, like, wasn't he just with Cara Adler two days ago. And wasn't he screwing around with Saige Clark last week? The guy is seriously hot and can have anyone he wants. Why the hell she would think he'd want her is beyond me."

"Gawd. No kidding. Like what I don't get is why she's always with one of the Jones brothers. Like if she's not being Tanner's sidekick, she's following Tucker around like a pathetic loser. What is that? It's kinda creepy."

"Oh my gawd. Do you think she does them both? Like they have some perverted ménage a trois?"

"Ewww. That's just...oh gawd....ewww. There's no way."

"Yeah, no. I'm pretty sure Tanner plays for the other team. I mean, I heard he totally turned Kelsey Paulson down at her part two months ago. And she's like way easy."

"Whatever. Kelsey probably started that rumor. I'm pretty sure she didn't want to look totally dissed like the pathetic slut she is.  Seriously, I can't blame Tanner for turning that down. Ew. Crabs, hello?"

"Yeah, I know right.  But still, that doesn't explain his weird relationship with Ophelia Savage. Does that mean they're like just friends or something? Gawd, what girl is just friends with a guy? Don't tell me there's no benefits. That's just so-"

"Lame? But isn't that Ophelia Savage in a nutshell? Complete, total lame-sauce."

"I know right? It's probably charity work. Like maybe their mother makes them be nice to her."

"Ohhhhh.....yeahhhhh."

Ears singed like I was just set on fire, I shift forward in my seat and stiffen my shoulders tightly as the conversation only feet away from me in the not so large hallway continues to unfold. It was  the usual gossip. A run on directed discussion about me like I didn't exist. Like it didn't matter whether I heard any of their ugly words. They wanted to hurt me. They always did. They made it a point to remind me at any given moment. Which they loved it when I did hear them. They were evil. Giving 'mean girls' a whole new life. But they weren't just mean girls, they were rich. Smart. Athletic. Beautiful. An elitist group that ruled and defined popularity at our well-funded by every wealthy family in the area private school. And this was their world. A corrupt standard of high school cliché on crack, and gawd, did I want to punch them all in their rich, snobby bitch faces.

"Hey you." A jaded-kind voice unravels my anger with a bump to my arm. "Earth to Ophelia."

I flinch pressing my mouth into a semblance of a smile and look up at the only girl friend I had in high school that actually gave a shit about me. Tate Harris, of the non-snobby bitch variety, grins at me with a twisty glint in her eyes. Today's' hair flair included blue streaks instead of lavender, and the colorful strands shimmer brightly against her raven black long hair. Her incredibly dark brown eyes are only darker with the heavily painted but artistic design of her ebony eyeliner. There's hoops in her ears big enough for a puppy to jump thru, and her uniform skirt was short. Like if she bent over even just the slightest, a person would know what color underwear she was wearing, if any at all. She was the polar opposite of anyone at St. John's Prep School. A breath of fucking fresh air. 

And gawd, I so like it. Admire it even. And wish that I could be just like her.

No shit. Too bad my dad would have a coronary if I even tried just the hair color. Oh gawd, he so would. If only I had a fifth of her bad ass balls.

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