inspired by Heathers '88
I often wondered what it would be like to be not normal.
In a time were blending in as well as eyeshadow was the norm, why was I so hooked on being a standout?
Girls would giggle their silly giggles every time I tried to even change my hairdo but the next day I'd wake up and before the effort, I would be normal. Sometimes I wish I could wake up and make even the heathers scream with fright as they saw something so different from themselves glaring at them. Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to be Jason Dean, the guy who was the living spokesperson for fucked-up-abnormality.
The logic behind it was that I was attracted to something I wanted to be but love had me blind. I had skipped the slushies, the hand-holding, the walks in the park to capital l Love all in the space of a month.
The frighteningly only differences right now from my life to a teen flick were the facts that he knew my name, knew of my existence and also that he was unlike any Rob Lowe admirer I'd ever seen on screen. He was different and it was as refreshing as a frozen fucking Pepsi.
I was mad.
I was so mad one day that I stomped through the halls in my normal little white sneakers, normal boring eyes burning holes into the backcombed heads in front of me who seemed to be as intimidated as a sloth. To an outside eye, I was merely bouncing across the halls in a normal stride, hips swaying the normal amount with something less normal on my mind.
The screech of the bell was inferior to the yells in my head, something that had become normal to me at that point, at pointing to a certain dark-headed male. I struggled but I managed to completely ignore him today which was the last on my list: How to seduce Mr Dean.
How To Seduce Mr Dean
1. Be yourself ended with more normality than before I even fucking started!
2. Wear a really tight top ended with chuckles at my fashion faux pas.
3. Light something on fire in public ended with little old Peter Dawson drowning me with his Evian.
4. Talk to him ended with a thirty-minute talk about Veronica being such a poser.
5. Ignore him was now in play.
Ignore him. I didn't even know what that meant. I couldn't go seconds without even thinking about his lips turning up in amusement whenever I fucked something up or whenever I sneaked him into the school paper room because it was the only one without cameras so he could smoke. Though I coughed through the pain of inhaling about 30 cigarettes in one sitting he never noticed me the way i wanted him to. His legs never twitched like mine did whenever we accidentally touched or whenever we understood the same references.
Gag me with a spoon!
I got home eventually, huffing every time someone else breathed a little loudly or whenever his name echoed in someone else's voice on the bus.
It was through the steamy windows smeared with gum and other gnarly liquids that I wish to be unnamed that I realised how totally weird our "relationship" was. I had never questioned it before because any association would've been like a mini-break to paradise to me. We weren't friends because he never offered me a ride home and plus you couldn't really have guy friends here unless they were fruitcake boys. What the fuck were we?
I mean we flirted, never kissed, never touched on purpose and yet he was reeling me in like a fisherman.
"Hey Y/N how was school?" my dad asked from his leather chair, face so far into his newspaper you could see his nose from the other side.
