Status: For a Contest
Cliff Hanging
1 of 4
Aren’t high school seniors the deadliest of the student body?
Anorexic?
Give me a break. I’ll take a chocolate bar or two right at this very second. When you only have two weeks left in an almost beat-up public high school, you should definitely take in all the sweets (and not to mention fat) you can get. After all, what bulimic girl would want to look stick thin at her graduation pictures?
Ten years from now, when I get an amazing job over at Apple and have a billion boyfriends (clean from AIDS, ‘course), I would want to look back and say, ‘Fuck, I was amazing.’ And, yes, not only in bed – or behind the Oak tree at the park. Damn, right. I heard that grad gowns take off all the extra pounds off. Match it with the square caps then I’ll be ready to go drinking at the bar. Might as well go hook it off with an amazing (English, yes?) businessman after. Maybe I might just get paid, and I need all the money I could get to support myself in Uni.
I finish off my third Snickers bar before crumpling up all the wrappers together, forming a ball. The chocolate stench and gooey leftovers form everywhere on my palm. I want to lick everything off, even bite my hand out too. Nobody I know has ever bitten their hand off. Maybe it tastes like chocolate, but only really juicy and metallic because of the blood and muscle. (Ew. Ew. Ew. Why am I even thinking like this? I’m not exactly what you call sadistic.) But anyway, I walk over to the trash can – still gloomy as ever – and throw the wrappers away.
“Hey, Lina,” I heard Amy say behind my back.
Since when did she get here?
I secretly debated whether I should’ve turned or just walk away. But since I’m not strong enough, I placed a mask of fakeness once again. Good girls die when they don’t follow the orders of the bad girls. It’s an unwritten rule. “Amy,” I turned to face her and nodded. “What’s up?”
“Silly,” she walked over, even closer before reaching my face. By now, I could already see the glitters from her lipgloss and smell her cigarette-scented breath. For a moment there, I noticed how deep-set her eyes were. I’m not gonna be bitter. They were a wonderful pair to own with such hazel color. “You know.” Amy leaned to my face and placed her lips on top of mine, her graceful snogging skills are quite a charmer. Every boy in school knows that; she’s tried them all – even Nolan, my secret love since 6th grade. She’s his boyfriend now. They’re apparently going to go to the same college, make babies together and own a Pug.
God!
She’s supposed to be my BESTfriend. Why can’t she act normal like a typical sidekick of sorts? Why does she have to steal my personal obsession and manipulate them all – one by one? I want to kill her so bad, punch her in the face and make her bleed to death. If only it was SO easy.
Seriously now. Die, bitch, die.
Anorexic?
Give me a break. I’ll take a chocolate bar or two right at this very second. When you only have two weeks left in an almost beat-up public high school, you should definitely take in all the sweets (and not to mention fat) you can get. After all, what bulimic girl would want to look stick thin at her graduation pictures?
Ten years from now, when I get an amazing job over at Apple and have a billion boyfriends (clean from AIDS, ‘course), I would want to look back and say, ‘Fuck, I was amazing.’ And, yes, not only in bed – or behind the Oak tree at the park. Damn, right. I heard that grad gowns take off all the extra pounds off. Match it with the square caps then I’ll be ready to go drinking at the bar. Might as well go hook it off with an amazing (English, yes?) businessman after. Maybe I might just get paid, and I need all the money I could get to support myself in Uni.
I finish off my third Snickers bar before crumpling up all the wrappers together, forming a ball. The chocolate stench and gooey leftovers form everywhere on my palm. I want to lick everything off, even bite my hand out too. Nobody I know has ever bitten their hand off. Maybe it tastes like chocolate, but only really juicy and metallic because of the blood and muscle. (Ew. Ew. Ew. Why am I even thinking like this? I’m not exactly what you call sadistic.) But anyway, I walk over to the trash can – still gloomy as ever – and throw the wrappers away.
“Hey, Lina,” I heard Amy say behind my back.
Since when did she get here?
I secretly debated whether I should’ve turned or just walk away. But since I’m not strong enough, I placed a mask of fakeness once again. Good girls die when they don’t follow the orders of the bad girls. It’s an unwritten rule. “Amy,” I turned to face her and nodded. “What’s up?”
“Silly,” she walked over, even closer before reaching my face. By now, I could already see the glitters from her lipgloss and smell her cigarette-scented breath. For a moment there, I noticed how deep-set her eyes were. I’m not gonna be bitter. They were a wonderful pair to own with such hazel color. “You know.” Amy leaned to my face and placed her lips on top of mine, her graceful snogging skills are quite a charmer. Every boy in school knows that; she’s tried them all – even Nolan, my secret love since 6th grade. She’s his boyfriend now. They’re apparently going to go to the same college, make babies together and own a Pug.
God!
She’s supposed to be my BESTfriend. Why can’t she act normal like a typical sidekick of sorts? Why does she have to steal my personal obsession and manipulate them all – one by one? I want to kill her so bad, punch her in the face and make her bleed to death. If only it was SO easy.
Seriously now. Die, bitch, die.
♠ ♠ ♠
:)