The Incomparable Edie Wells

“You're going to do what?” Maggie screeches, leaning so far over the cafeteria table that he hair is almost in her spaghetti.

I press a finger to my lips and lean closer to her. “Shh! Jeez, do you want everyone to hear you?”

Well, in reality, they probably won't care much anyway. There aren't many people in the cafeteria today to begin with – most sit outside for the first month of school. And those who don't are currently checking the List for their beginning-of-the-new-year rank. No one would have heard Maggie say anything anyway, assuming they cared enough to try and eavesdrop. Which they probably wouldn't.

“Maybe they should!” she retorts, slamming her hands down onto the table so loudly that she actually does manage to attract a few nearby people's attention. “Maybe then you won't be talking crazy!”

I narrow my eyes. “I am not!” I glance over at Parker. “I'm not crazy, right Parker?”

He shrugs nonchalantly and continues to scarf down his lunch. I haven't been able to figure out what he's eating just yet, and after seeing the cafeteria ladies prepare food in the kitchen, I'm not real sure I want to. “I suppose not,” he mutters, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I mean, popularity speaking, you two are totally incompatible. But I guess maybe if you connected with him on an emotional level...”

Parker and Maggie exchange glances, and then promptly burst out laughing.

I roll my eyes and sit back, crossing my arms over my chest. “Whatever. I'm telling you, this is the year that I will finally go out with Levi Smith.” I point an accusing finger at Maggie. “You just watch.”

Maggie rolls her hazel eyes and flips her pin-straight blonde hair over her shoulder. “It's not that we don't think you can, Edie,” she assures me, digging into her bag for something before finally pulling out a small mirror, “It's just...” She trails off and bites her lip anxiously.

“What?” I demand, narrowing my eyes at her. “It's what?”

Parker sighs. “Levi is a senior, Edie,” he explains, as if that solves everything. “He's not interested in junior girls. Plus, I've never heard of him dating anyone with a rank below thirty.”

I groan and pick up a carrot stick from my plate. Normally I hate vegetables in general, but Riley is constantly on my back about making better food choices and eating healthy and stuff like that, so I packed a healthy lunch for the first day of school to placate her. She won't bother to watch me tomorrow, but over the summer she's constantly watching cooking shows that tell her how to cook healthy meals when she has time. If I have to watch Rachel Ray one more time, I swear I am never going cook again.

Maggie finally stops examining her face for a few seconds. She glares at our bespectacled friend. “Way to be subtle, Parker.”

I sigh sadly and flick the carrot stick back onto the tray. “I know you guys are right. Doesn't mean I want to admit it.” I glance longingly over to where Levi is sitting with his friends, laughing and chatting with them happily.

Why does it always seem like the popular people are untouchable? I mean, think about it. What have they really done to be idolized? Most of them just buy the right clothes and listen to the right music, and no one questions their popularity. And yet, someone who's not-so-popular is suddenly a bad person. Why should it matter that Levi is popular and I'm not? It shouldn't.

Man. High school sucks.

“On the bright side,” Parker says, taking another bite of his sandwich, “I hear that Gordon McAllister is single.” He gestures to the boy walking past, a socially inept sophomore with scoliosis and asthma and God knows what else.

Both Maggie and I turn to glare at him. “Shut up, Parker,” we growl simultaneously. He throws his hands up in surrender.

Maggie purses her lips for a moment, thinking, before shoving her chair away from the table. “You know what, Edie? We are going to make you popular.”

“Huh?” both Parker and I question her at the same time.

She rolls her eyes impatiently and grabs my wrist, painfully yanking me up from my chair. I squeak in surprise. “We are going to make you popular, Edie. I am going to make damn sure Levi knows that my best friend isn't some loser junior.”

“Thanks.”

“You know what I mean,” she retorts, hefting her bag over her shoulder and narrowing her eyes at me. “Come on. We've got work to do.”

“Work?” I blurt out, incredulous.

She sighs. “Yes, work.” She grabs my wrist again and starts heading to the girls' bathroom. “Later, Parker!”

I glance back as Parker lifts his hand in a dazed half-wave, blinking after us in shock. I offer him an apologetic smile and reluctantly follow Maggie into the bathroom, fighting back the urge to glance in Levi's direction so see if he's noticed me. I'm not sure if I'll like the answer, anyway.

Once we're in the bathroom, Maggie rushes over to the mirror and plops her purse onto the counter, rummaging through its many contents.

I sigh and glance at my reflection. My light brown hair hangs in its trademark ringlets, barely brushing my shoulder blades, and hangs over my face so much that I can just barely make out my steely gray eyes underneath the gigantic mass of hair. I eye my pale, thin lips and spread-apart eyes and sigh again. I wasn't really that bad looking, I suppose, but... I'm certainly not up to par with the kind of girls that attract Levi's attention. How was I supposed to turn into one?

Maggie makes a frustrated grunting noise. “Darn it. I left my make-up bag on my dresser,” she says, putting her hands on her hips. “We'll continue this tomorrow. I-” She finally notices my expression. “Edie, what's wrong?”

I bite my lip nervously and continue to stare at my reflection, trying to fight back the urge to start counting the freckles on my nose. “Mags, how could I possibly compare to those girls?”

“You can't,” she says bluntly. I glare at her and open my mouth to say something, but she just holds up a hand. “No. What I mean is, you can't compete with them yet. But when I'm done with you, Eds, you won't be competing with them.” She smirks. “You'll be calling the shots.”

-[-]-

Full Name, Age:

I wrinkle my nose at the paper in front of me. What is it with teachers and giving these little interviews at the beginning of every year? Our English teacher, Ms. Torres, can't be any older than twenty-five, and is one of those people who have to be enthusiastic about everything. Including getting to know her students.

I reluctantly fill in the blank.

Edith Catherine Wells. (Edie, for short); 16. 17 on September 21.

“Psst,” a familiar voice hisses behind me, cutting my concentration. Not that it takes much to write my name. I'm just saying.

I ignore it and continue to the next question.

Favorite Color: Lemon Yellow.

“Psst! Edie!” the voice whispers again, this time accompanied with an impatient tap on my shoulder with what feels like a pencil. I grit my teeth together, but ignore it.

Family:

I roll my eyes. I always hate answering this question.

Joseph Wells, father, 39; Riley Allen Wells, stepmother, 38; Rhett Allen, stepbrother, 20; Grace Wells, half-sister, 6; Casey Wells, half-brother, 5.

“Edie!”

I whirl around in my seat and glare at Parker. “What?”

He blinks his pale green eyes innocently at me, twirling his pencil with his fingers. Nervous habit. He's always had a problem with sitting still, but he'll never admit it. He glances anxiously at the teacher – who, at this point, isn't paying any attention to the class anyway – and then back to me. “Are you sure you know what you're getting into?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“I mean,” he continues, fidgeting with his glasses, “the List. Maybe you shouldn't mess with it, y'know? Remember what happened to Rhett?”

I wince. Rhett had somehow ended up in the Top Ten for a while last year, and since then he's never let me forget it. The whole thing went to his head. He changed drastically. For the worse.

“How could I forget?” I blow my bangs out of my face. “Don't you think it's worth a shot, Park?” I ask softly, looking him straight in the eyes, almost pleading. “You know how much better our lives would be if we were in the fifties? In the twenties?”

He still doesn't look convinced.

The thing is, Parker has never really cared much what people thought about him. He does whatever the hell he wants to do. If he feels like watching Star Wars all day on a Saturday, then no one's going to stop him. (Except maybe Maggie, who thinks he watches Star Wars too much and really should get more involved in a sport of some kind. I constantly have to remind her that Parker has almost no athletic ability whatsoever.) He doesn't try to tell me what to do very often, but when he does ask my to do something, I usually do it. I ask for his opinion on almost everything, and he does the same thing.

“Edie...” He trails off, running a hand through his cropped copper hair. “I'm just afraid you might get hurt, alright? Something's not right about that Levi guy.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You don't even know Levi. He's nice.”

He sighs in defeat and presses his lips into a hard line. “Fine. I'm just saying. Be careful with this, okay?”

I put my hand over his and squeeze it lightly, letting him know that I've understood where he's coming from. “I will,” I say honestly, before turning back around in my seat.

Interests:

Newspaper. Star Wars movies. Horseback riding.

This may be harder than I thought...