The Untitled Diary of a Girl Named Bones

It was the third week of school. Everyone was still getting into the groove of school. Meaning, getting used to the routine of things.

So. Lunchtime.

A time for everyone to fling food at each other and to show your true colors.

There was no escaping it. You were forced to sit at a table that would ultimately decide your current status in high school. One second, you could be at the top of the food chain, eating with the "popular" kids, then take one wrong step, and land at the "freak" table.

Mostly, I was observing this from the comfort of my own lunch table, surrounded by my three best friends, all of which were entertaining themselves one way or another.

Brittany was rambling to herself about a green piece of plastic that she had named Blue.

Erin was drawing on her shoe.

And Aimee was drawing on the underside of the table in a purple Sharpie.

Don't we just sound like a bunch of delinquents?

As usual, the atmosphere of the entire cafeteria shifted. All of the eyes in the room moved from whatever they were looking at, to the main doors into the room. Four figures, dressed mostly in black, with hands shoved deep into pockets, gracefully moved into the vast cafeteria.

They walked to a table, without grabbing anything for lunch, and chose a table in the opposite corner of the room from where we were sitting.

Slowly, the feeling in the air loosened up, and one by one, people started chattering amiably amongst themselves.

The four that walked in? Well, they were the most wanted [by girls] and hated [by boys] guys in school.

They had been exclusive friends since third or fourth grade. Since then, nobody had been initiated into their close-knit group.

They had a band, and each had a style that was different from the others, yet somehow connected.

They had many adoring fangirls that pretty much followed them around everywhere they went. The only four that refused to follow them like dogs were us.

They could have had any girls they wanted. They usually each had one or two clinging to them, but never seemed to actually attach.

They never dated, never had girlfriends.

Strange behavior for guys who could choose from almost all of the girls in the school.

Aimee followed my gaze.

"I bet they're gay. I mean, how else do you explain the tight jeans and the whole 'no dating' thing?", she stated.

Erin chimed in, "Nah, I don't think they are. I mean, they're too hot to be gay. It'd be a crime!"

Brittany had kept her input to herself, which was exceptionally strange behavior for her. She was completely focused on something on the other side of the room.

I followed her gaze directly. It went straight to a certain Spencer Smith.

A sly grin cropped up on my face.

"You like him."
"No, I don't."
"Yes, you do."
"No, I don't."
"No, you don't."

"YES, I do!", she retorted with a snarl.

"See, I told you! You so totally do like him!", I declared.

Erin and Aimee watched on with a similar to mine, wolf-ish smile.

Brittany's face burned red, "That was a dirty trick...", she trailed off.

Then, after a moment of silence, she mumbled something.

"What was that?", Aimee inquired.

"MebbeIduulakim", she spoke up ever so slightly.

"WHAAAAAAAT?", Erin joined in on the game.

"MAYBE I DO LIKE HIM!", Brittany exploded and we all started laughing.

And I don't mean a quiet chuckle. I mean, a full on, fall-out-of-your-uncomfortable-cafeteria-seat, pee-your-pants laugh.

Erin just about landed on the table of cheerleaders next to us, she was laughing so hard.

Brittany slammed her head on the table. "Bones, I hate you."

You're probably thinking 'Holy crap, your name is BONES?' Well, no, sorry, your answer is incorrect. It's really Fallon Elizabeth Bonham. Which I hate. So, Aimee started calling me "Bones". Bones. Bonham. Get it?

So, I moved around the table, and plopped down next to Brittany.

"But, I loooove you!", I exclaimed and licked her cheek, from jaw line to temple.

She shrieked, fell backwards out of her chair, rubbing her face violently, while the other two girls at our table started a whole new round of laughter. The cheerleaders at the next table sneered, while I smiled on triumphantly.

While Brittany was full on attacking my ear with a spit-covered finger, Erin's face lit up.

Her blond-and-black framed face broke out in a smile, and she told Brittany to give it a rest. She then let us in on her diabolical plan.

"Guys, I know what we'll do. Brittany likes Spencer. And there are four of them, four of us. Let's make a pact to each end up with one of them by the end of the year", she smiled with a typical determination.

We each slowly lit up. This could very well work.

Me, being the obsessive writer, whipped out my trusty notebook, and began writing that pact.

"Awww, we actually have to sign something?", came Brittany's disgruntled respose.

"Yeah, now shut up you baby-licker", Aimee chimed in.

"What in the name of all things Dr. Finklestein is a 'baby-licker'?!", questioned Brittany.

"Will you two SHUT UP?", intervened an annoyed Erin.

Yhep, this was shaping up to be a good year.