Candy Teeth and Honey Lips

Mr. plastic smile

"Welcome to the third Annual Young Adult Leadership seminar! We are glad you chose to hang with us for the next two months."

"Yayyyy," a throng of bored teens groaned.

A chipper 20-something dude stood in front of the wide conference room, he was probably one of those RAs at one of these no-name community college. Probably still paying his student loans and that's why he's slapping on a fake smile and over enthusiastic personality.

"Yeah! Like anyone chose to hang with you cult-creeps," a voice rang from the back.

That followed another drowned out sound of laughter. Even though I was positively miserable, that crack warranted a tiny chuckle from me.

The 20-something's face was clearly not amused, but he's plastic smile was able to hide it pretty well. I was thoroughly impressed, maybe this seminar might not be such a waste of time.

"Moving on, the first thing that we're going to, is get introduced to the rest of the team."

Chipper-plastic smile then proceeded to introduce himself as Tim Perez and his compatriots as Lisa Wilson and Thompson- just Thompson.

Me, refusing to call Tim by his real name, I raised my hand to inquire why the second dude in the room was only introduced by what I assume his last name.

"Excuse me? Mr. Plastic smile? Why is he just Thompson?" I asked.

The chuckles were endless this time, but Tim kept that melted smile on his face. Clasping his hands together like a male cheerleader getting ready to chant, he engaged eye contact with me.

"That's the catch," he began, "At the end of the seminar, if you stay that is, you will know why he just goes by his last name."

Not going to lie, I was even more intrigued now, my brain loves a good mystery. And even though I was mad as hell at my dad for making me do this; I found a reason too stay. I'm going to find out why he just goes by his last name, maybe even before the last day if this miserable looser trap.

After a minute or two, Mr. Plastic smile broke us into groups, I was less than thrilled because I've always hated group projects. They always the same, and I always ended up doing all the work in the end. And I don't think this will be any different because I have high suspicions that mostly everyone in here has an IQ the size of mini-marshmallows.

My group consisted of three boys! Yep! I was the only girl! Damn it! Just my luck!

"Alright! Now introduce yourselves in your groups, I will pass around shortly with instructions on your tasks," Lisa said. Her voice was so high pitched and scratchy, thank God Tim did most of the talking.

I looked at the people in front of me, trying to avoid starring them in the face. Usually I was the first to speak in these kind of settings, but I was finding it hard because I was surrounded by boys.

Instead, one of the boys sitting directly in front of me chose to speak up first. Really I couldn't concentrate on what he was saying because my eyes were glued to his long brown hair that rolled down to his shoulders. Always been a sucker for that.

"Hey, my name is Verlind Young, but you can just call me Verl, I was the one who made the crack earlier about this being a cult."

I felt a little more comfortable now. I actually enjoyed the crack about the about this being a cult. I cracked a smile easing into my seat.

"I have to admit that joke was funny," I chuckled finally finding the courage to speak.

Verl looked over at me and winked, "Well thanks little lady," he said in a terrible, vague, southern accent.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other as I looked Verl up and down. He was still smirking with the obvious fuck-boy look in his eyes.

"If you think that cheap line will work on me? Humph."

Verl raised both his hands as if he was surrendering to an adversary. "Okay alright! I get it. Change the subject, what's your name?"

I sighed heavily, "My name is Brianna Harrison, and until we all become friends your only allowed to call me Brianna."

The sound of hearty filled out tiny space. Laughter was the best way to break the ice, and I can confirm that I was no longer in the list bit uncomfortable.

The boy sitting on Verl's left caught my attention next. Immediately I noticed he was wearing, lens Crafters glasses and expensive Louboutin's on his feet. He must come from money and everyone knows rich kids are the most troubled.

He timidly raised his head to speak up, "Hi, my name is Christopher Sandivole-"

"-shut up! You're a Sandivole?!" I exclaimed madly.

In a moment all eyes were on me and then a deadly silence fell upon the entire conference room. My breath caught as my eyes quickly scanned over all the staring delinquents. I felt my palms begin to get sweaty and self-consciousness was rising rapidly. 

The boys were intently staring at me as if I was a live porno accidentally getting played on the High schools hall television. 

"Ahem, sorry I- just," I babbled while my eyes chased from one person to the next, "J-just continue already."

The reason for my freak out is pretty obvious if you don't know. That kid sitting across from me was Christian Sandivole! His father was Santiago Sandivole one of the OGs of New York! Well ignoring the fact that his family made their fortune through less than legal ways, his currently one of the New York's certified youngest multi-millionaire. What in the bloody Christmas was he doing here?

Completely ignoring my internal crisis of intrigue, the last person in our group decided to finally introduce himself. He seemed different from the rest of us. So far, in a matter of minutes I already profiled and labeled Verl and Christian. Verl the loud-mouth, comedian, fuck-boy probably class clown at his school. And Christian was the rich, reckless, no-fucks-given type. To be honest I was expecting him to be a A-typical bad boy, but I guess the last dude was. 

He was sitting back in his chair, arms folded, legs crossed letting us  get a good view of his Vans. I swore I could see his muscles peep out from his loose t-shirt. But the thing that most could me, was the look on his face and the glint in his eyes. It was like they were. . . dead inside.

Slowly he sat up in his seat giving each of us an uninspired once over, "Names Griff."

And that's all he said before slipping back into his previous position. Verl, Christian and I all exchanged weird glances from each other then to Griff. 

"Ohhkayy," Verl said with an awkward chuckle.

Just then, Lisa passed behind me and dropped a small piece of paper in my lap, then she did the same with other member of my group. Quickly I swiped the paper off my lap and brought it up to view I could read. 

It read: Knowing you guys, our probably said your name and that was it. But that shouldn't be it! Say more about yourselves! Like your age, your school and why you are here today. Have fun! Carry on Leaders. 

Just reading that and hearing it in Lisa's or Mr. Plastic smile's voice made me physically sick. It seemed to have the same effect on everyone else on my group. Verl held his temples like he had a migraine, Christian instinctively held his stomach and Griff simply threw the paper on the floor and stomped on it. 

You know what, I change my mind, maybe those boys do have IQs bigger than a mini-marshmallow. And who knows, I may actually like the bastards. Bring on the stupidity. . . . . . . .