Pretty Dumb

Chapter Seven- Lilah

After kicking Dylan's sorry ass in the debate in Lit, I make my way to lunch with Missy at my side. She's also on the squad, but I secretly can't stand her. She is so fucking shallow, and it just bothers me so much! People like her are part of the reason cheerleaders have a bad name. She's not that bitchy or mean, but still. Missy nonstop babbles in my ear on the way to lunch.

"Omg, Dylan is sooo hot! Like seriously, I'm sooo gonna ask him out." She shrieks. I shrug.

"Go ahead. But you could so do better. He's a total asshole." I say. She is undeterred.

"Yeah but that just makes him even sexier! We would look so good together! I bet we would win Prom King and Queen!" She excitedly squeals. I grit my teeth, trying my hardest not to slap some sense into her.

I'm not exactly a relationship guru, being deathly afraid of commitment and being known for being the girl version of a player, and even though I would totally have no-strings-attached hate sex with Dylan, I would never in a million years date him for his looks. To be fair, I would never date anyone, but good looks are so not a valid reason to make an emotional investment in a person, especially after acknowledging that they are a douchebag. And Missy may be irritating, but she doesn't deserve to have her heart broken.

We enter the cafeteria, and get in line for lunch, Missy still chattering away and me zoning out. After buying some pizza, we head to the cheerleaders' usual table. In our school, each grade has lunch at a different time, so it's just seniors. I drop into an open seat between Celia and Kelsey and Missy sits a few seats down. Every year, there are twenty cheerleaders on the squad. Seniors who were cheerleaders before automatically make it on, and everyone else has to try out. This year, with eight seniors, there are twelve open spots.

The captain is always chosen at the end of the year, selected from the pool of juniors by the seniors. It wasn't a surprise to anyone that I was picked, seeing as I was probably the best on the squad, having joined up for my love of cheerleading rather than for a popularity boost like some of the other girls. Even as a junior and sophomore, I had helped a lot in choreographing our Nationals-winning routines. I had already been offered a cheerleading scholarship to UCLA, my dream school.

We sat with some other popular girls who weren't on the squad, and the senior jocks. The football team for our school was pretty good, and so was the basketball team, mostly due to Dylan, who even I would grudgingly admit to be amazing, and was definitely the star of the team.

Our table was crammed and noisy. Missy had squeezed herself in next to Dylan and was flirting with him. On Dylan's other side was Nate, who was winking at Celia, while wrapping his arm around another girl. He was a shameless playboy, rather like his brother... No! Don't think about him!

I laughed at Celia flipping Nate the bird. She had no time for players, and it was always fun watching her step on their egos. Nate, undeterred, just smirked at her. She scowled back, but I knew Celia and I could tell from the way her swoon-worthy dimples (that I was immeasurably jealous of) were just barely showing that she was trying to hide a smile. Interesting.

Just then, a girl I didn't recognize walked past, and I heard her say to her friend in a voice definitely loud enough for us all to hear,

"Just look at Lilah Green's outfit. What a slut!" Our whole table got real quiet, sensing that shit was about to go down. I looked at my outfit: high-waisted distressed skinny jeans, white adidas, and a black shortsleeve crop top. (By the way, those portrayals on TV of cheerleaders wearing their uniforms everywhere- totally wrong). I failed to see how my outfit was "slutty." Sure, I was wearing a crop top, but it was loose, and the high waist of my jeans made it so that my stomach was only visible if I stretched. Besides, I hated it when anyone called me or anyone else a slut. I turned around and got up, all slo-mo and dramatic.

"I'm sorry, what did you just call me?" I ask, furious. The whole cafeteria seems to take a deep breath. Everyone turns to watch the scene. The girl stutters, but eventually her resolve strengthens and she finds her voice.

"I called you a slut, becauae that's what you are," She says, lifting her chin. I nod.

"And, why, exactly, am I a slut?" I ask, deadly calm. She seems to grow more determined.

"You slept with my boyfriend!" She accuses me furiously.

"And who might your 'boyfriend' be?" I inquire.

"Evan Summers!" She exclaims, pointing at one of the guys at my table. He turns red, and offers a sheepish, embarrassed smile. I remember hooking up with him at the back-to- school party on Saturday. I hadn't been aware that he had a girlfriend. If I'd known, I wouldn't have slept with him. Contrary to popular belief, I don't do guys who are in relationships.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you two were dating," I tell her sincerely. She just seems to get madder.

"Honestly, you're such a trashy slutbag! It's offensive to women everywhere. But I guess it's good practice for later in life, when you're a prostitute!" She screams. Okay, I just got super triggered. I hate slut-shaming. At first, this girl's anger was semi- understandable, seeing as she thought I had slept with her boyfriend on purpose. But I had said sorry, and that I didn't know, and she persisted. She was over the line. Losing all control, I snapped.

"You know, maybe instead of blaming me for the fact that your boyfriend cheated on you, you should thank me for saving you from continuing to date someone who clearly doesn't care about you! And it's not like I on purpose slept with him to ruin your relationship! I didn't even know you were together! So stop getting mad at me because you dated a sleazy asshole!" I don't have a filter. And I especially don't hold back when I'm mad. And right now, I'm furious.

Tears well up in the girl's eyes, and she flees the cafeteria, her friend chasing after. I sit back down, and chatter fills the cafeteria once more. Celia nudges me.

"That was pretty harsh," She tells me.

"Yeah, but so was she," I respond. "And besides, it was a wake-up call she needed. She needed to accept that her boyfriend was a mega douche." By now, my anget had somewhat faded into pity. Celia nods, agreeing with me. I feel a pair of eyes boring into the side of my head, and I see Dylan glaring at me. I idly wonder what I did to offend him, but I don't have to wonder for long.

"You are truly a bitch," He tells me coldly, before getting up and storming off.

"Who pissed in his Cheerios?" I ask no one in particular. Kelsey giggles from beside me.

"He seriously needs to chill," She says. Celia agrees with her, and regular conversation resumes for the rest of lunch.

AN: That was a longer chapter. Pretty intense too. What do you think? Did I deliver on my promise of drama at lunch? Also, I just want to say that slut-shaming is so not ok. It's ok for girls to be sexually active and they shouldn't get judged for it. That's why I made Lilah sleep around. I also wanted to reverse the stereotype that it's always the guy who is a player and is scared of commitment. What do you think so far? Be sure to tell me in the comments. Also, what new ships do you see sailing anytime soon. What do you think is up with Lilah and Nate's brother?