The Richardson List

Carter sat in class, desperately trying to concentrate on the teacher before her and failing miserably. Her mind had been corrupted with un-educational thoughts, making it terribly hard to focus on the lesson. Then again, it was quite obvious she wasn’t the only one who was paying no attention to Ms. Paler who stood at the front of the classroom, droning in an attempt to get anything enlightening drilled into the adolescents heads that sat around Carter.

Whispers polluted the air around her, some obnoxiously loud and others Carter found herself straining to hear. Of course all surrounded the same topic, everyone pondering about their own score and of other’s. Notes were being tossed inconspicuously, some were not so discreet but the teacher took no notice. A girl a desk away was gushing on about how she was an eight; a proud smile on her face as she explained this to the girl beside her.

The girl raised a sceptical eyebrow at her, a small smirk on her lips. “Carrie, you’re a seven point nine, you haven’t reached an eight yet hon.” There was a spiteful edge to her voice as she slightly narrowed her eyes, her smirk growing larger with Carrie’s face fell.

Carrie quickly recollected herself and sent back the same, almost sneaky glare. “You’re only jealous that you’re a seven point four, Olivia.”

Carter could tell that this girl hit a nerve as the other one averted her gaze onto her desk, an embarrassed blush tinting her tanned cheeks.

Olivia glared at the desk, either hating herself or Carrie, maybe even both at the moment. “That’s not the point,” she mumbled after a pause. Carrie didn’t seem to buy it though, noting the fact that Olivia hadn’t met her gaze yet.

Carrie smiled victoriously, fixing her hair, her face still swollen with pride. “And plus, I’m going to cut my skirt another inch higher, that’s sure to get me an eight.” She had a determined fire in her eyes, obviously thinking that her rating would change if she hiked up the already very short uniform.

Carter rolled her eyes at the bickering girls beside her, finding it incredibly stupid that they would take such pride in such things. And how much that girl even cared about one guy’s opinion. And then there’s the fact that this is Skye Richardson, he doesn’t know half the girls in the grade anyways.

Even though she put on a strong front that she didn’t care, and frantically attempted to make her believe the ploy she put out, curiosity was getting the better of her. Then again, who didn’t want to know their rating?

“What are you?” Carter heard someone whisper in her ear during the class, instantly grabbing her attention. Her eyes peered over to the brunette beside her, leaning in and waiting for her answer.

Her name was Tiffany and she had been sitting next to Carter for the entire year, only talking to her once when she needed a pencil. She had a mop of curly brown hair nestled into her scalp and soft brown eyes to match, freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose. Carter was surprised that this girl was even talking to her.

“What am I?” she repeated, confusion marked upon her face.

The girl nodded her head and leaned in a little closer, trying to be sneaky about it. “You know, The Richardson List, what’s your rating?” Tiffany asked, clear anxiety in her eyes.

Realization clicked in Carter’s mind. Of course this girl wanted to know what her score was, everyone wants to know about them. See who’s better then who. She shrugged her shoulders with an apologetic smile.

“I have no idea,” she answered truthfully, wondering if she even wanted to know about her rating.

Tiffany stared at her for a moment sceptically before turning her head back to the boy on the other side of her and remained talking. Carter rolled her eyes and again focused on the teacher ahead, looking like she was quite tired from trying to teach all these kids who could care less. And for once she felt some sympathy for her teacher, realizing how corrupted everyone in her grade was.

It wasn’t that she paid attention in class everyday but a stupid list had turned everyone upside down and on their toes.

And Skye Richardson was to blame.



Carter spent the rest of her day wondering about the damned rating, more specifically her own. She thought about how it wouldn’t be so bad just to know it, didn’t mean she’d take it seriously. It would just soothe the curiosity ripping through her thoughts with no remorse.

It wasn’t as if she could escape either, having that it was being whispered about everywhere. In the halls, in the classrooms, everyone was discussing The List.

Trying to get away from all the numbers she escaped the girl’s bathroom which was usually empty. Girls hardly came in here for the stench of pot had made its residence in the air, causing a tickle in her throat whenever she stepped into the room. When she stepped inside it was empty as she had thought. She glanced over into the mirror.

Carter scrutinized her features, picking out all her flaws and strong points. She had chestnut brown eyes, lashes laced with mascara framing them. She only put eyeliner on for special occasions and eye shadow was never her thing. She had an average sized nose, not really considering it much too big or much too small, and two small dimples indented in her pale skin, making her cheeks look somewhat chubby.

All in all, Carter wasn’t what most people would call revolting. She had an okay face; at least she liked to think that she did. She wasn’t gorgeous or beautiful, those words stored for the real beauty queens, but she was okay looking.

While staring at herself in the mirror, her class obviously starting by now, she heard a small sniffle from the bathroom stall behind her. The small sound echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls and sounding in her ears, causing her to snap back to reality.

“Hello?” se called out, staring at the pale blue stall door, paint chipped around the corners.

Carter’s question was met with silence, filling her ears with an undeniable quiet. Soon after though she heard some shuffling and the door creaked open, revealing a dishevelled Tiffany. Her hair looked more unruly then usual and her clothes seemed more wrinkled. Her eyes were red and there were black smudges around her eyes, making it clear that she had been crying.

When she walked up the mirror and pulled out her purse Carter watched in wonder. “Are you okay?” she asked, genuinely concerned.

Tiffany didn’t respond right away, taking a moment to wipe away the dark smears under her eyes. “Yeah, fine,” she said curtly.

Carter stood silent at the other sink, wondering on what action she should take next. The brunette took a long look in the mirror and sighed, dropping her napkin back into her purse. “Well, it’s just that stupid list you know?” Tiffany turned the Carter who nodded, understanding the girl.

“It’s like, I knew that I wasn’t gorgeous or anything but I got a six point nine. I mean, it’s not even a decent seven! Am I really that ugly?” Her last word came out in a husky whisper as she looked over at Carter with teary eyes, waiting for any reassurance.

Of course Carter was justified to give her the consolation that she was in fact, really pretty. Not that she wasn’t, because she was, it was just that even if she wasn’t very pretty it’s not like Carter could tell her that. A reason why she would wonder why people would always ask for other’s opinions, it was quite obvious no one is going to be honest if you’re not that pretty.

“Tiffany, you’re really pretty,” she told her comfortingly, stretching out the really just to make her feel better.

This part was a little fib, Tiffany was very average looking, just like Carter, and was stationed at just ‘pretty’. But when she said this the girl grinned and quickly reapplied her make-up with a giddy smile plastered on her face.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

One of the things that always peeved Carter was when girl’s, such as Tiffany, caked on the make-up. Underneath it all she could see a few pimples that were probably gasping for breath under all the powder. She had learned through her middle school years that overloads of make-up did nothing but make it all so much worse. Maybe because of this reason Tiffany was rated so low.

Once she was done, Tiffany scattered off into the hall, saying goodbye before vanishing out of Carter’s sight.



The next morning Carter searched through the halls, trying to find the star himself amongst the clutter of teenagers. The night before she had gotten hardly any sleep, tossing and turning with Skye Richardson constantly being whispered in her ear by her doubts.

For this reason she avoided everyone, not taking the bus with Cole or texting Audrey in the morning like she always had. The last thing she needed was more reminders of The List’s existence.

At this point she didn’t care about how degrading or stupid it all was, she needed to know her number. It was the only way she could find her mind some rest, to stop all the wondering once and for all. Her shoes slapped the tile floor as she darted in and out of people’s way, determination fresh on her face.

Finally she found Skye leaning up against his locker in the same position as the day before, creating uneasiness in her stomach. As she neared the boy her body grew tense with anxiety and her stomach constantly churned like the moment she first laid eyes on the boy.

Except on that day he was writing down notes in a small writing pad, looking up every so often to grace his eyes along the girl’s. Carter gripped tighter onto her books and took a deep breath, ready to take the plunge. She walked up to him but he never looked up from the small paper in his hand.

“Um, Skye?” she asked in a squeak, cursing herself for being so frightened over him.

His gaze lifted and met hers, a small smirk touching his lips. For a moment Carter stared into his eyes, liquid pools of emerald staring back at her, causing her to shrink away. All the confidence she had built melted away the second he noticed her. That’s when she finally admitted the obvious fact: she was scared of him.

“Let me guess, wondering about your rating, Carter Rousseau?” he asked; his voice deep and laced with confidence.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, staring down at the floor. “Well, yeah?” With the last word she looked up at him, embarrassment crossing her face in a faint blush.

He gave her a once over, contemplating what he should tell her. “Hey, Matt, what do you think?” he asked, tugging on the guy beside him sleeve for verification, his eye never leaving Carter who stood self-consciously.

The boy smiled and bit his bottom, his eyes racking her body. “I’d say an seven point nine, eight?”

Skye shook his head at the boy’s thoughts and took a deep breath. “I’m thinking a solid six point three.”

He nodded his head, confirming his rating before slamming his locker shut and walking away, leaving a stunned Carter. Matt looked back for a moment, seeing her face and gave a sheepish smile with a shrug, but Carter didn’t take much notice to this.

Six point three?