Soda Pop

Chapter 2- The Canswers

187 Days of Senior Year Left.

The first day of school. It's practically the only day of the year geeks and nerds dress just as nice as the rest of us. There's something special in wearing your shortest uniform skirt to show off your toned legs and sun tanned skin. A perfectly blended smoky eye paired perfectly with this seasons trendiest Coco Chanel shoes.

Except, then you get there and remember how much school sucks.

My school, Crumberlin Private High School, is a prestigious school with perfectly manicured lawns and impressive report cards. Everyone wears a clean, freshly pressed uniform, and has at least one sports car parked in the parking lot. To get accepted into Crumberlin, you have to take a test. The admissions board guaruntee us that you only get in if you are smart enough. That's where they are utterly and completely wrong.

The New York Times called it "The most presige, georgous academy in the North East region!" But don't be fooled by any of that. Our school is made up of, well, fakes. Fake Prada, fake people, and fake test scores.

There are two types of people at my school. The ones who cheat on their admissions exams, and go on to cheat on all their other assignments; and the ones who don't cheat on their admissions and eventually graduate Summa Cum Laude and move on to Yale or Harvard, or some other Ivy League college.

Believe it or not, I actually didn't cheat on my admissions test. Shocker, right? When I first applied to Crumberlin Private High School, I was a total geek. I wore thick black glasses, and my wardrobe consisted of band and science camp shirts. My hair was in a ponytail 24/7, and I had never even heard of eyeliner. It was horrifying.

Then, I got accepted. My first day here, I met Della and Courtney. I think they took pity on me, but were able to see my true beauty potential underneath. They changed my view on everything. I started wearing makeup, doing my hair, and convincing my mom to buy me cuter, more expensive clothes. By Christmas of freshman year, I was popular. I had gone from having 5 Facebook friends, to having over 800. Suddenly, everyone wanted to be my friend. Everyone wanted to be me.

And so there I stood. In front of the steps leading up to our prestigious academy. In my shortest skirt, and my most expensive Coco Chanel shoes. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a group of freshman boys staring at me.

Just to tease them, I gave them a little wave before sashaying up the stairs and into the main hall.

"Casey! Over here!" Della calls, waving me over to our usual morning hangout by the indoor tennis courts. Della is perched on the bench, examining her lipstick in the reflections of the trophy case.

"Hey girls!" I squeal, hugging them both. "It feels like I haven't seen you in forever, even though we just got fresh manicures just yesterday!"

Courtney flips her hair off of her shoulder and whips out her phone, viciously texting someone.

"Who are you texting Courtney?" I ask, tilting my head to the side a little to try and catch a glimpse of her phone screen. She gives me a quick glare before reverting her gaze back to her phone.

But before I can comment, our 'guy' starts walking over.  He never shows us his face, but he always comes by to give us a soda. Last year he was wearing a Spiderman mask, this year it's Batman. These 'sodas' help us pass every exam, test, and worksheet. Well, most. Instead if a nutrition label, all the answers are there, all you have to do is set it on your desk and every once in awhile take a drink. Surprisingly the teachers never question it, and the guy sells the teachers soda too. Just not the special ones. They have never suspected anything.