The Popularity Project

Chapter Forty Two - Love

Perry's POV

"What the hell do you want?" I ask the second I see Charlotte approach me. She's wearing a t-shirt, which for normal girls is not a monumental occasion, but for Charlotte, it's quite the affair.

"I need your help," she says quietly. Her perfect eyes are ringed with dark circles, not to mention puffy, and there are black smudges surrounding them, making her look like a panda.

"You've made yourself clear on who your friends are when you slept with Ryder after he told you he had feelings for Vivian," I close my locker and turn my back to her.

"Please, I don't have anywhere else to go. I made a mistake, and I need your help," she cries and I turn around slowly. Charlotte Monroe, the perfect girl, the girl who never needed makeup during the normal awkward years of puberty. She was born perfect with strawberry blonde hair and a smart, charming, charismatic, and cunning personality.

"Do you even know my name, Charlotte?" I sigh while she bites her lip and furrows her eyebrows.

"Percy, right?"

"It's Perry," I roll my eyes and turn my back to her again.

"What kind of name is Perry? I'm just gonna call you Percy if that's alright," she walks beside me.

"No, it's not alright. Now will you leave me alone?" I look down at her. Never, in all twelve years of school have I seen her distraught in any way. The only time she faltered was when she lost Ryder to Vivian a few months ago. When she realized what she threw away for that random hook up.

"Look, Percy, I am in some serious trouble, and I know that Vivian is too. If you want my help to save Vivian, you have to save me first," Charlotte grabs my arm and turns me to face her. "And you should be thanking me for sleeping with Ryder. How else would Vivian have noticed you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snap and she sighs.

"I know you're in love with her. I'm not sure what makes her so special compared to every other girl, but apparently she is. We're all the same you know, all us girls. We are just tiny genetic variations of the same person," she frowns and starts walking, tugging me along with her. "So why is it that she is glorified for everything while I am so alone."

"Maybe it's because she's not a backstabbing bitch?" I open the door for her and she marches through without a thank you of any sort.

"I'm only a bitch because I have to be," she quietly defends.

"And why do you have to be such a bitch?" I furrow my eyebrows. "Because your privileged life of wealth and partying is so drastically terrible?"

"You wouldn't understand," she bites out and follows me to my car.

"You aren't coming with me, so don't even ask," I snap when she reaches for the handle to the passenger seat.

"What, are you afraid Vivian will see me in your car and stop talking to you?" Charlotte rolls her tired eyes and opens the door anyways.

"I'm not taking you to StarBuck or whatever the hell that overpriced coffee shop is," I warn her when she starts fiddling with the radio station.

"First, it's called StarBucks, second I am not your stereotypical popular girl," she finally finds a station she likes, alternative rock, which surprises me. "And third, you're taking me to see Vivian."

"No, that's a terrible idea," I pull out of the school parking lot. "Where do you live?"

"I can't go home," she looks out the window. "If I go home, he will find me."