A Student/Teacher Relationship

My Point of View:

Is the world's largest nimrod assumed pregnant by her peers? Probably, because I'm 99.9% sure I am it. Well, at least I'm becoming more advanced. I have moved up from grafittied bathroom stalls to a dimly lit stairwell. The change of scenery is a bit refreshing.

I cannot believe those people. Can't even call them ex friends. Ex friends have better reasoning to turn their backs on someone other than a crazy rumor and stress. And about that rumor, what the fuck? How the hell does that become a subject of conversation? Good thing I'm not popular, or otherwise people would know directly whom they were speaking of.

Three guesses who's the first to give me shit about this...got it? Nope, nothing? Jen, that's who. She always assumes Ben is the only person I am capable of thinking about. Just because she's insecure about her relationship (even though she has reason to be) doesn't mean I have to be an escape goat for her problems.

I am so sick and tired of her harassing me every other week for stupid stuff like "Stop trying to get him back! He loves me, not you!". (A popular line in the many emails she sends me when I occasionally check my myspace, and yes I have a myspace, go ahead and sue me.) This hate mail usually occurred whenever Ben and I were seen walking in the same hall or happened to go to the same party. Bring on the redundant phone calls with the ridiculous voice messages. Aw, fuck it. It doesn't matter.

Hmmm I wonder...I reached into my bag and took out my B essay. Flipping to the last page, I wonder if this will make me feel better or worse. Blue words being read and reread at first were satisfying and comforting, but with each repetition evolved into regret and guilt. Nice fucking idea, asshole.

***

"Sooo, lovely sister of mine, what's going on for homecoming?" Rachel nudged me, waking me up from my ineffective thoughts.

"Huh? What?" I regrasped the spoon to my cereal. Mom and Brad went out drinking, so Rache and I have to fend for ourselves for dinner.

"Homecoming. It's next week."

"Yeah...I don't know. I don't think I'll go."

"Oh, come on. Would it kill you to go out and be sociable for once?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, it would. The moment I step into the public eye, boom, I spontaneously combust, and who will be around to clean it up? Not me."

"Ha, ha, ha, smartass." She dropped in the dining room chair across from me. "But seriously, who are you going to go with?"

"I really don't want to think about it," I sighed, stirring my untouched fruit loops. "Having a date to a dance I'm not going to hasn't been a priority."

"How about...Nick?"

"No."

"Ben?"

"Nooo."

"Now you're being picky. Ooo, what about that Billie guy? Don't you like him?"

"Why are you being so adamant about this? Homecoming is just another excuse for girls to spend a horrendous amount of money on a dress they'll wear for 4 hours tops, chemically damage their hair, run to the tanning salon to get that oompa loompa bronze, cake their faces with make up, all in hopes their date will give them a good night kiss. I know there's extenuating circumstances, but I don't want to be a part of that gruesome cycle." I stood up and dumped my soggy cereal in the sink. I just don't feel like eating anymore. Rachel gaped at me. "What?"

"Do you ever listen to yourself? How do you come up with this stuff?"

"Many nights sitting home alone."

"Well, alrighty then, Miss Sunshine, you're going. It's my last year, and I want you there, no matter how miserable you'll be."

"Rache, I don't want to go." Ok, maybe I want to go a little. I'm still a girl. I do like to get all glammed up now and then. Fine... "Ok, if I go, what are we going to do?"

"Um, dance?"

"Yeah I assumed. I mean afterwards." As she thought out the answer, I slowly inched up the stairs. Stupid homework.

"Most likely we'll go to Corey's and hang out there."

"Oh, and let me guess, we'll watch another perverted movie?" Finally reached the first landing. Each time I go near these stairs, I hate them more and more.

"It's tradition."

Fine, ok don't agitate the dots. Entering my room, my usually uncomfortable bed seemed abnormally soft. Maybe because I'm so tired. No sleep and not eating. I'm on a roll. Kudos for the living dead.

***

"This one or this one?" Rachel held up beige and orange dresses on plastic hangers, switching them back and forth in front of her body.

"Hmmm neither." I slid hangers of dresses on the rack, each one uglier than the next.

"Orange it is." She gave herself an approving nod and placed the beige dress back amongst the other discount rejects. "I'm going to get this one. Find anything?"

"These dresses are frickin' hideous, and they are..." I randomly flipped over the price tag of a bright pink fashion don't. "$50?! What the hell? Fuck this, I'm trying a different store." I marched out of the newly popular rip off known as DEB. Rachel can check out on her own. Hopefully she learned how to count change.

"Dresses, dresses, where are some dresses?" Fellow Stratford mall shoppers disregarded my absent-minded muttering as I passed various stores. "Kohl's?" Nah. "Carson's?" Pssh, just screams senior citizen. I want a dress that's pleasantly outrageous. Now, how to find that...?

After a good hour of walking up and down the same halls and looking into the same stores, I surrendered to the silent cries of my aching feet and collapsed in a vacant chair in the buzzing food court. I could turn my head in any direction and smell a different cuisine which, all at once, is nauseating. I hate dress shopping. I'm not the dress-wearing type, but the dance is next week. I gotta stop making promises to people, because I can't help but keep them, even though they always end up screwing me over in the end. Stop complaining. It's life at its grandest. Why did Rachel make me come here? On a Saturday, no less. A ton of people from school are here, and it's always the people I don't want to see. Damn.

Shit. Not now. Are you fucking kidding me? Pushing through a clump of hungry people, searching for a place to eat, Jen made her way towards me, followed by her less than enviable entourage. With the grotesque pink dress slung over her shoulder, she came. Please don't talk to me!

"Hi Becky, how are you?" Her voice was cheery and had an inviting smile with an underlying creepiness.

"I'm just dandy. How are you?" I returned the handful of fakeness. Everyone sees her as being sweet and nice, but she's a complete jag-off to me behind closed doors. I don't think even her friends know the extent of her multi-dimensional face.

"I am having the best day. I just bought my homecoming dress." Jen showed off the peptobismal garment wrapped in plastic.

"Isn't that cute? Where'd you get it?" DEB.

"DEB, I love it. It has a plunging neckline, so I know Ben will love it too."

"What? You're still dating Ben?"

Jolting forward, she seemed taken aback from my obvious surprise. "Yeah...? He's my boyfriend, or did you forget that?" Snide bitch. No more, you have got to go.

"Have you been working out?" I shifted into more of an upright position.

"Not lately." She caressed her bulging gut. "Does it look like it?" She smiled, looking very satisfied with herself.

"No, I was just wondering." Nonchalantly recrossing my legs, I watched her sugar coated smirk transform into sour, pursed lips. Her posse stood behind her like crossdressing body guards. Same build, different clothes, same stance, different weapons, same scowls, and possibly different genders. Nevermind, I'm being judgemental. "Jen, I always enjoy our little chats, but I think you better get a move on, because I don't like you."

"Bitch," she growled and looked to her friends for approval of her accusation. Some nodded, and others glared, despising my honesty.

"I get that a lot, but yet I don't seem to care. See ya," I waved. Her lips moved, searching for the perfect phrase to strike a nerve. Nada. "Buh bye." And in like a typical teen movie, the enemy stomped off, followed by her loyal minions and the protagonist sat pleased with her victory. "See you at the dance!" I called behind her. She flipped me off and disappeared into more clusters of people.

At least she's gone, but dammit Ben, how could you? "Oh no, I dumped her ages ago," he assured me. That lying sack of shit. Take for granted, I've been hating this arrangement for weeks, but come on! You'd think after everything he did to me, he'd try to be a somewhat decent human being and not try to pull this crap off, but I guess he's completely incapable of such a thing. Bastard.

I should take a razorblade to his nuts, and see how he likes that. Messy and plain disgusting, but he has it coming. If not by me, than some other girl seeking revenge upon the disease formally known as Benjamin Curtis. I cannot believe I'm the fucking whore on the side again! The same reason I gave up Billie Joe, and here I am under the same conditions, except it's easier to screw over Jen than Adrienne, and I love Billie Joe more than I hate Ben. I'm so close to swearing off love that I don't mind if I ever die alone. That would be a blessing in disguise.