Doodle credit: @Nyamcam

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c h a p t e r 6

Abi.

I have this sick feeling in my stomach, because I believe I've done something completely bitchy.

I can't blame it on peer pressure, or because of the damned need to feel like I'm respected and cherished. Really, I'm a bitch.

After I came home from school today, I just had a good cry. I cried a good cry because keeping up this facade is such a mother. I don't know how perfect people do it. Because I'm not perfect, I'm ugly inside and out.

The only person who really seems to actually understand me is Danny Sanderson. He's just so easy to talk to, and I can just let go when I hear his voice. His nice voice.

Today, in choir, when the teacher had everyone go over this one traditional ballad I out of the blue let out a laugh.

Because I thought of something Danny told me, and I thought of what he told me in that particular moment.

It of course earned me a glare from the teacher, and weird glances from my peers. But who cares?

Right now, I sit in my room, completing some homework and wait for Danny to call me. Last night we didn't talk because I believe he was preoccupied with family, or at least it appeared that way in the photos he posted on Instagram.

I like all of his photos, and always comment on them...but he never really acknowledges me on social media and I'm aware of the bitterness in my statement. But why does Danny ignore me at school as though we never have these nightly conversations? He barely acknowledges me. And because of those things, maybe my heart breaks just a little.

For awhile my mind is preoccupied with an English essay, but then I start to think about this guy I rejected at school. The guy I took out all of my frustrations on, and outright rejected because he just has one of those faces.

In a way, the guy proclaimed being smitten with me, and for a minute I thought about giving him a hug, and giving him a chance because he sounded genuine. And for another second, if I really listened in my mind he could've been the guy I've been talking to on the phone for most nights. But it's Danny Sanderson.

Danny Sanderson is who I have an eye for.

He's really cute. He has nice eyes, and a nice crooked grin. He's what every girl dreams of.

He excels in soccer, and he's going to one of those prestigious colleges next year.

I set my pencil down, and push my binder off to the side. I pick up my iPhone and open the Instagram app.

He's posted a couple new photos.

One photo consists of him and a couple friends, chilling, at some party. Another photo shows him sleeping with his dog, the breed looks to be a St. Bernard mix. I smile, and scroll down to the next picture. I'm no longer wearing a grin, because I've just witnessed the ultimate betrayal.

I look at the girl in the photo, and who the hell is she? Danny has his arm wrapped around her waist, and she and him are both smiling so widely as though they're in love, or like their lives are so fucking perfect.

You know, it's true, I can get any guy. I somewhat have a big group of friends, and I participate in the Pom Squad, so it's not like he hasn't noticed me, or he doesn't know who I am.

I look at the call log on my phone, and frown. Danny still hasn't called because he's out with that girl.

I go back to the photo to check if he tagged her in the photo.

Yep. He sure did.

When I read the name, I shake my head in utter denial. You know why? Because the girl who's in the photo with Danny Sanderson, is this one hussy who I've hated since middle school. Yes, hate is a strong word. But, there are no nice sounding words to describe my feelings towards Bevin Scalage.

She's the devil's spawn.

She's one of those rich girls who think they're all that because well they're rich, and they have it all. She really isn't even that cute. Her voice is scratchy as hell, and she isn't even a natural blonde. So, what does Danny see in her?

My mom then walks into my room, and asks me, "Why are you crying?"

I glare at my mother, who holds a cigarette between two of her fingers. Smoke coming out of the end of it.

"I'm not crying," I say, and pick up my binder. I go back to writing my essay for English.

—

You know, I don't consider myself a popular person. I don't think of myself as someone who's particularly every guys' dream.

I'm just Abi Dearest, one of the captains of the Pom Squad, a Gemini, and I'm simply just trying to make it in the world of high school, where it's more like a prison than an establishment for learning.

So, again, I'm going to declare my own self a bitch because I can't stop thinking about the guy that I turned down today. I can't forget the face expression he gave me. That look.

And for that, I'm laying in bed, totally spaced out and wide awake because people with shitty personalities can't sleep sometimes. I bet the Joker has to lie in bed awake at night, and after thinking of ways to sabotage Batman one way or another, he thinks about all the lives he's ruined, and lives he's taken, and might be entirely remorseful for a lot of that shit.

I wish I had one those night lights that projected stars around the room. Your room is suddenly a galaxy, or the night sky.

I used to have one when I was younger, but it went to shit after my mother threw it in a drunken rage, when I was at least eight years old. Not my happiest moments, and not my mother's greatest moments.

"You must be slow, or even worse— special.

You, kid, nerd, haven't figured it out.

No matter how nice you ask me.

No matter how genuine you may sound.

I could never go out with a guy like you. Why would I go out with a guy like you?

A guy like you, could never ever make me happy. More like YOU would never make happy! You're pathetic really. You thought you had a chance. But face it, guys such as yourself never get the girl."

I didn't even know the guy's name. He helped me with my chemistry homework a couple times. But I can't say I actually talked to him, and knew him. He isn't really that drop dead gorgeous either.

See, Abi you're being vain. Why am I so vain?

The guy of my dreams isn't even talking to me anymore.

—

Typography credit: @bambi-182