Thank God I'm Pretty.

You know you love me, I know you care. Just shout whenever and I’ll be there. You want my love, you want my heart. We’ll never, ever, ever be apart. Are we an item? Girl, quit playin’. We’re just friends, what are you saying? Said there’s another, look right in my eyes.

I sang along to my iPod, repainting my nails bright pink. It was just another average Friday morning before school. I had my routine that never went any different from when I started it upon entering middle school. That was when I had officially become one of the popular girls that all the other girls were jealous of and all the guys wanted to date. I enjoyed it, it put me in the spotlight at all times and I could bend everyone to my will. I was on top of the social food chain and life couldn’t be better.

Finishing the top coat of the Shocking Pink polish, I smiled, able to see my own perfect reflection. I carefully waved my hands to dry the paint without ruining it. “Mother,” I hollered loudly. I sighed impatiently as each second ticked pass without a sign of acknowledgement. "Mother!" I yelled a bit louder.

A second later, my door opened. "Yes, Ashley, sweetie?" She smiled at me.

I held up my wet fingernails. "Help me dry them?" I wiggled my fingers and looked pointedly at the hairdryer hanging by the sink in my bathroom.

"Oh, of course!" She flicked her platinum blonde hair (that I was lucky to have inherited) and helped me off my bed before we walked to the bathroom. She grabbed the hairdryer and turned it on. "Tell me if it gets too hot. We don't want to dry out your hands."

A few moments later and my nails were dry to the touch and still perfect. I sighed happily and nodded in approval. I grabbed my pink Gucci handbag and took a look at my reflection in my full height mirror. Sparkling pink Dee Zee high heels, white pleated miniskirt, white spaghetti strap tank top, light pink cardigan; I was the poster child for perfect! I smirked and grabbed my Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses, which were only an accessory that sat on the top of my head, before I headed down the stairs. "I'm ready, mom!" And, with that, we got in the car.

The car hadn't even come to a stop when people on the high school campus were already gawking. The day had barely begun and I already felt accomplished. With my classic heartbreaker smile on my face, I got out of the car and began to walk - no, walk was so not even how I got around - I strut into the building. I strut gracefully to my locker and smiled to my friends waiting for me. Angela, Jessica, Britney, Sarah, and my best friend Tiffany; we five were the envy of the school. "Goodmorning, girls," I greeted cheerfully.

"Morning, Ashley," they all chirped in near unison, smiling in my direction.

We were all quickly deeply emerged in the most recent gossip and rumors that we had fallen behind on in the last twelve hours. We spoke intensely before our group had gone eerily silent and we all turned to scowl in disgust at the parasites walking down the hallway; the emo kids clad in their stupid band shirts, dark skinny jeans, out-dated Converse, and their gross, unfashionable, fringy hair cuts.

"Disgusting emo scum," Angela snarled in annoyance, eyeing them like rodents. They were close enough. I mean, they probably had lice like rodents. And they resembled rodents – raccoons were rodents, right? And they were as unwanted as rodents. I snickered and smirked, thinking about how many ways these pitiful beings resembled rodents.

One flicked his eyes toward us and hissed, "stupid prep bitch." Barely a second later and his hair was covering the vacant, dark pits that were his eyes. His nose turned down to the ground again, avoiding eye contact; as if anyone would even want to look at him or the rest of his rat pack.

I scoffed. "Go die, white trash!" I turned my nose up in disgust and to end the squabble. If anyone with any high social status lost the battle of tongue to the emos, we would be dropped off the hierarchy and ostracized. Of course, if someone in my group was the one getting beaten in a battle of last word, I would kick them out in a heartbeat without a second thought.

"Go get tested, whore!"

My mouth dropped open and I turned around in a flash. A girl with stringy, pink hair and piercing blue eyes stood barely two feet away from me and was scowling at me and my friends; the emo girl known to getting into more than just verbal fights with people, the girl who had been my arch nemesis since the start of high school. Did that pathetic plague to society just call me a whore!? Did she really just imply that I had an STD!? How dare she! I had never even had sex, never mind throwing myself into prostitution! "What did you just call me, you pathetic wrist cutter!?" The whole hallway had gone silent and everyone was staring eagerly.

She winced in shame and looked at the floor, but only for a split second. The bitter scowl was on her face again and her eyes turned to slits, staring me straight into my eyes until I could feel the icy hatred in my very soul. "You heard me, blondie!"

Suddenly, one of the other boys in her group looked up from the ground and shifted toward her. He seemed at a desperate loss for words until the bell rang. "Come on, Rian, let's go. We'll be late." He reached out and grabbed her arm, tugging it. Flipping his shaggy black hair from his face, he looked between the girl and me. "Rian, come on," he urged. Reluctantly, she glared hard at me then walked away with the rest of the parasites.

"You're going to regret calling me that," I threatened, not knowing what I would do to her but knowing I wouldn't let her get away with it. I glared at the pack until they rounded a corner and were out of sight. I turned back to my friends and clenched my jaws. “Ugh, fucking bitch!”

We were all silent for a moment before Jessica cackled. "What fucked up parents name their daughter 'Ryan'? I mean, isn’t that a boy’s name?"

Sarah shrugged with a smirk, "Maybe they wanted a son. Or maybe she was a mistake and they didn’t even bother to think up a good name for her." We all giggled and headed off to our first period classes.