The m**********n Game.

It's always the same thing being in high school. High school isn't just four years. it's four years of either being alone, popular, emo, super depressed, another b***h everyone hates or just a plain Loser. It's also one of the four years you will or will not lose your virginity. High school is pretty much always about s*x. It's always about who's having s*x with who or who's having s*x with how many. On my behalf, I'm just as invisible as my entire s*x life. --- "Don't be so pettish Kalie," Sam says with a wave of her fork. Ever since she started going vegan, she thinks she's so much more healthy than I am. She stabs at her salad and I squint my eyes at her. "Just because I don't want to quit meat, doesn't mean I'm selfish, Sam. It Just means I don't want to quit eating burgers. Besides, I'm already happy with my body." I justify. She shakes her head, "You are killing animals!," She cries while throwing her hands up. Oh, brother. She's diluted. Has she looked at herself? Her body literally looks afraid of sandwiches. But, I roll my eyes. "This is the same reason why you're still a virgin!" She pokes. I pretend to look at a watch on my wrist, "Oh look at the time, I think I should head back to class!" I say grabbing my empty tray getting up from the table. "Whatever, Goody-two-shoes biatch. Make sure you call me tonight!" Sam yells while I walk away laughing. "I will, I will!" I yell back to her. - Sam is the pretty best friend. The best friend that pressures you to just lose your v-card. She's the"The Peer Pressure Friend." The friend that tells you all about who she's sleeping with in vague detail, and also one of the best friends who try and to hook you up with everyone. She told me about how one time she slept with Eli Foster, one of the varsity football jocks. She whined all day on how small he was and told me to sleep with him since it wouldn't really hurt breaking my hymen based on how "mini" he was. She likes telling me her s*x stories. She admitted she liked rubbing it in my virgin face since she quote-on-quote "KNOWS" I'm a slut in straight A clothing. I have honor roll all the time, I love wearing pink dresses in mitch-match converses and cheap 99-cent strawberry lip gloss. She says she can smell virgin all over me. Bitch is imprinted on Sam's forehead. I don't know how we stayed friends for five years. I guess I'm the only one who can understand her complex attitude even when I really don't. I clutch my books close to my chest while walking down the empty hallway. Lunch is the time everyone catches up on what has happened recently. Everyone has a story during lunch and everyone has a group during lunch and everyone has their own table. You will see the nerds in the corner. You will see the sluts in the back, if you catch the pun congratulations, you will see the jocks with the sluts and the goths outside eating, and the nobodies are unseen in the front of the cafeteria near the vending machines. Usually, the sluts are the popular ones. Why? Because I guess how many p*****s you can swallow is somehow impressive? But there's always one group that doesn't have a category. Popular/unpopular, mysterious, attractive/average, and different/not different. They are the ones no one knows about. They all hang around each other, they are normal but they are divergent. I just call them, the "No names." I wanted to call them Soc's but that name is taken by the drama club doing a play on "The Outsiders" that we had a book report on about a month ago. - I'm the girl with the pink locker. It's ahot pink. Nothing else. It's a Winfield High School tradition to decorate your locker. I got lazy and just painted my locker pink for some reason that I truly regret since people with black sharpie think it's funny to write curse words on it. But at least they come up with funny puns to put on it too, so I leave it be. I stuff my books into it and grab my hairbrush, looking at the mirror I put onto the inner door of it. My hair won't stop frizzing. I groan and run the brush down my hair. "Hey, locker buddy!" I hear from the side of me. It startles me and I drop my hairbrush and it snaps on the handle hitting the floor. I put a hand on my chest looking at Ally. She has a wide healthy smile and her gums show slightly. Her long coffee brown hair is pulled back by her white ribbon that's tied to the top of her head. Her freckles are beautifully on her high cheekbones, while her chestnut sweater with blue jeans caress all of her curves perfectly. She's one of the ones who sit with the "No names." Also, her birthday just passed on November 20th meaning she's a Scorpio, ALSO MEANING she is secretive behind her wide innocent smile. "Kalie, I'm so sorry!" She apologizes picking up my broken brush. I smiled weakly while she hands it to me. "It's fine," I say shaking it off. "I saw you coming to your locker and I wanted you to meet some folks. You're in the Journalism club right?"She asks. I nod but I don't see where she is going with this. "Well, I want you to meet my friends. They’re super curious about what you do. Think you're up for it right now?" She asks. I moisten my lips and look away blankly behind her and back at her. "Well...I-I mean....sure? Totally I'm up for it." I stutter. She claps and it's so loud it echoes in the hallway. "Yes!" She cheered and closes my locker grabbing me by my wrist. I look at her oddly and she did not once stop smiling or even look at me with her blue crystallized eyes. My chest sorta hurt. Like something was squeezing me tight. I started breathing rapidly to get air through my lungs. I'm actually nervous. No one really cares about our topics when we write on the schools blogs. We usually update our Web page on upcoming events, news on who got accepted to college, and maybe a few things about what we've seen on the news.