The Kids Don't Stand A Chance

Everyday after school I would sit in the library and get all of my studying and homework done until 3:30, when Kylie would come and meet after her track practice. I realized that I shouldn’t have to wait for her everyday, but most of the time I didn’t mind. I was able to get my work done quickly and have the rest of the night all to myself. Together we would walk home from school, exchanging gossip and talking about our plans for the upcoming weekend. Today was no different, and I took the hour of alone time to look over my Spanish notes in preparation for an upcoming test. I didn’t know what Kylie was talking about; this shit was impossible.

“Hey, hey, hey, Ava-ave,” Kylie exclaimed, startling me suddenly. I looked up from my Spanish notes and watched as she sat down in front of me. I could tell that she had been working hard, because her makeup was smudged and there was one last bead of sweat trailing down the side of her face.

“How was practice?” I asked, tying back my blonde hair and shoving my iPod into my backpack.

“It was awesome,” she gushed. “I got my time down nearly half a second, and Brad – you know the cute running back, right? – said I looked really good.” I smiled for her, even though I was trying to remember what I had heard about Brad. Didn’t Kylie say just last week that he cheated on his girlfriend with three different girls at a party? Why did she care what he thought about her?

“Great job,” I responded with a genuine smile. “Oh!” I added, remembering the party invitation that seemed to be burning a hole in my pocket. “Look what Zack Merrick gave me in English today.” I didn’t want to say how he only invited me because he had been asked to go already – I didn’t need the kind of slack Kylie would give me for being a ‘second-hand invite.’ I pushed the invitation towards her and she scanned it carefully, the same devious smile returning that I had seen only a few hours ago.

Setting it down carefully next to her, Kylie leaned forward with an excited twinkle in her eyes. “I have an idea, Ava. And it’s genius.”

“Oh… okay,” I muttered, looking back at the invitation. “But can we still go to the party?”

“Well of course we can, silly,” she responded pleasantly. “If Zack Merrick asked you to go, we definitely have to. He’s super cute.”

“Yeah,” I added as nonchalantly as I possibly could. “We flirt all the time in English.” Wait, where did that come from? Had I just lied through my teeth without even realizing it? Kylie must not have known, because her smiled just widened.

“That’s so cute,” Kylie replied, flipping her wavy dark brown hair over her shoulder. “But anyways, back to my amazing idea.” I leaned forward in anticipation. “So I think we should make a bet.”

“A bet?” I clarified, slightly upset to not be hearing something along the lines of ‘weekend road trip.’

“A bet, a game, call it what you want.” She waved her hand slightly, as if it was meant to represent her waving away all my fears. “We each have to pick one really popular guy – actually,” she muttered, looking away in thought. “We’re going to choose each other’s guy to make it interesting.” I gulped in anticipation, though quickly rationalized it that even though she was choosing my boy, I was choosing hers. At least I had some power. “And then we have deadlines, and we each have to complete a task before that deadline.”

“So what’re the tasks?” I questioned.

“The first task is going to be making out. Easy, right? The next ones will be more… intense.” Yeah, sure – easy for her. I hadn’t hooked up with a guy since freshman year!

“How do you prove you’ve actually made out with him?” I was surprised at how calm I was being, but the more I thought about it, the more the idea warmed up to me. Here was a chance for me to prove myself to Miss Perfect; here was a chance for me to be the best.

“You have to take something from them. You know how all the guys carry around their keys on school lanyards in their pockets? When you’re making out with a guy, grab it.” She paused, reaching over to my Spanish notebook and swiftly ripping out a page. “Here, I’ll write the rules down.”

Competition Rules:

1. Under no circumstances can you tell anyone else about the game.
2. You’re not allowed to get your guy drunk/high – they have to do it on their own.
3. You must meet the required deadline to obtain your prize from the task.
4. Calling off/faking your results/not meeting the deadline of the task means an automatic loss.

“This is all for you, Ava-ave,” Kylie added after she had finished writing the four rules. “You were the one complaining that we don’t do anything with boys.”

I sighed, before asking, “So what does the winner get?”

Kylie just shrugged. “Bragging rights. What else is there?” She was right; that was the only thing that mattered.

“But wait,” I added. “If we’re just one of a bunch of hook ups that a guy has in one night, why is it a big deal? I don’t understand how our game has any… importance if what we do with a guy is what he does a hundred times at one party on the same night.” I must have looked pretty damn smug, thinking that I had found the loophole in Kylie’s plan. Maybe she would look at me and say I was right, that this entire thing was stupid and she had no idea what she was thinking to begin with. But that just wasn’t realistic. Kylie had a comeback for everything.

After pondering my point for a few seconds, she furiously scribbled something down on the paper. “’Rule 5,’” she read. “’Once you make out with your guy, they’re forbidden from doing anything else with another girl. If your guy is caught “cheating” on you, you’re out.’”

My mouth was hanging open in amazement. “Wait, but that’s not fair, how are you supposed to –“

“Nope, sorry Ava-ave. I’ve already written the rule down. There’s no changing it now. But if you must know, when a guy cheats on you it’s obviously your fault. So you better work hard and make sure he doesn’t want anything – or one – other than you.”

“Fine,” I said with a frustrated tone to my voice. “Who’s my guy?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, staring me in the eye. “You pick first.”

“Uh…” I muttered, thinking over all the popular guys in the senior class. “Brad Hamilton.” I thought I had made a good choice by the time his name fell from my lips. Sure, he had complimented Kylie just a few minutes ago, but his player reputation and obnoxious attitude were sure to be hard for her to handle.

“Nice pick, Ava,” she mumbled, yet a smile stuck to her lips as she wrote his name down on the paper. “Now, lets think…” Her voice trailed off at the end, before her eyes lit up with excitement. “I’ve got it!”

“Who?” I exclaimed, perhaps a bit too quickly because she just chuckled in response.

“Calm down, girlie. It’s just Zack Merrick,” revealed Kylie with a giggle.

“Wha – What? Zack Merrick?” I stammered, trying to regain my composer.

“Well you said it yourself, didn’t you? You flirt with him all the time in English. This should be the easiest thing you’ve ever done then, right Ava?”

Yeah, right.