Bitter Sunshine

The Top Bitches

Before we get into this, I'd like to clarify one thing.

My name is Lyric Peterson and yes, my parents are hippies. My mom literally named me because, and I quote, "Hey Jude was playing during my birth" and "it represents that happy day." Another parent would consider the name Jude instead, but my mom isn't that parent.

Lyric doesn't even make sense. So what if music was playing? That's a stretch and she knew it. Dad didn't say a thing, he was too busy recording everything.

A video, might I add, that we re-watch on my birthday.

Every. Single. Year.

I've heard all of the jokes (trust me, they got old in grade school). Of course, Kayla and Shay never let me live it down. But what are best friends for if not to irk you beyond belief?

You probably think I'm a cynic.

Well, that's true. I am. Hey, I call it as I see it. Contrary to popular belief, however, I only allow my cynicism extend to things that deserve it. I'm really not the stereotypical goth chick that thinks life's purpose is death, or whatever. I'm not a morbid person- I promise you that.

I live my life like any other person, just with a little caution rather than pep in my step. As the cliche goes, it's a cold bitter world out there. I won't let it swallow me whole.

Gosh, am I a philosophical high school student or what?

Kayla and Shay never really got any of my existential crisis. I can't blame them. The most they have to worry about in a day is making it in by curfew. I shouldn't complain; I don't even have a curfew. But I'd kill to get the home-made dinner Kayla's mom makes every night. Or the family vacation Shay's parents take her and her siblings on each summer.

I never got that. I may never get that.

But today isn't a day I should be worried about that stuff. This fateful day marks my last year of Granz High School, the day that makes me the king of the fricken world. High school, rather, but it's the same in my book.

The same white Lexus that's always driven me to and from Hell pulls into my driveway with the familiar honk. It's hard to mask the grin on my face. Without missing a beat, I swing on my backpack and burst out the door.

I get situated in the back with Shay, who's squealing loud enough to make an elephant's ears bleed.

"Christ, woman, calm down," I mutter. She waves me off and pulls me into her tight embrace.

"I haven't seen you in so long!" Shay exclaims. I roll my eyes; it's been two weeks.

I look her over, taking in all the remnants from Mexico. She definitely got tan. Her usually olive skin has darkened even further. Shay being Shay, the tan brings out her beauty even further. Her thick black hair waves down her back and accentuates her striking blue eyes.

I hate her sometimes.

Kayla turns around from the front seat. She hasn't changed a bit. But she's still better than you.

"Ly, we get to be the top bitches this year. The top bitches. Remember Hanna Collins last year?" I nod. "We're her now. Now we're the ones kicking freshman off of the bleachers! Isn't that fun?"

Shay and I snort. "Red, I doubt we'll be kicking freshman off of the bleachers. Did you forget how everyone hated Hanna Collins, or shall we remind you? Heck, you even hated her," I fire back. She merely shakes her head.

"You guys are missing the point. That point being, we're the top bitches."

I missed this. Over the summer, our little trio splits up a bit. Sure, we all hang together and take beach days and sleepover, but they all have somewhere to be. Take Shay, for example. She ditched us when her parents took her to Cancun. When one is gone, none of us can hang out. It's the glue to our friendship.

We chit chat for the rest of the drive. Kayla and I still can't get over how tan Shay became over less than a month.

"Babe, you have no idea what I'd give to have your complexion," I whine. I'm met by groans. "What?"

"You're saying that as Snow White," Kayla hisses from up front. I never understand why they say that. The two of them just ignore it with a little grumpiness, but I let it slide.

"Red," Shay begins, "who's your latest boy toy of the week?" Kayla smirks.

"His name is Jarin, but it could always be Van." Shay glares as she winks back.

Kayla has always had a thing for Shay's brother, Van. All throughout middle school, the girl was practically obsessed. I guess I could see it from an outsider's perspective. Yes, the kid was attractive.

Van was two years older and came with all of those perks. He still had his football muscles and that shaggy, boy-next-door look to him. Even with braces in seventh grade, Van was always Mr. Popular. At first Shay didn't mind Kayla's crush, but ever since he graduated, she started to disapprove more and more. A girl can dream though, and Kayla sure does.

"You know, it's funny. Van said something earlier that reminds me of this right now," Shay muses. I give her a knowing glance and just sit back and relax.

Popcorn sounds good right now. Doesn't it?

It totally does.

Kayla hums in response, but she's on the edge of her seat. Poor girl was about to be let down.

"Yeah, he said how much he hates red heads. Something about them being clingy."

"b***h!"

"Lay off my brother, would ya?"

"Please, he'd be honored to have me."

"Yes of course, because that's the reason he rejects you every time you make a move."

"I'm persuasive."

"Last time I checked, you failed public speaking."

"Last time I checked, this was my car. So I'd check that attitude if you don't want your cute ass walking to school."

"Shut up!" I screech. They both laugh as I bang my head against the window repeatedly. This I did not miss. Not by a mile. If I wanted to watch a petty cat fight, I'd clock in early to watch cheer practice.

Because the universe decided to take mercy on my poor soul, we finally pull into the school. The courtyard is swarming with sweaty teenagers, grumpy teachers, and confused newbies. That scene has actually become comforting over the years. It never changes, freshman to senior year. I smile as the memory of our first day comes to mind.

"Red, my brother said not to look the seniors in the eye," Shay warned. Kayla rolled her eyes.

"God, Shay, don't be such a p***y!" she retorts.

"Kayla! Language!" I scold. They both take their turns to give me a glare.

"Guys, if we want to survive this s**t, we have to pretend that we're actually cool. I know you two may struggle with that, but it's the only way." Shay and I groan together.

"So no shitting yourself when a senior comes by-" She points to Shay "-and no freaking out over a stupid cuss." Her finger lands on me. Sighing, I zip my mouth a follow Kayla, our "fearless" leader.

Our fearless leader was later on caught puking in the locker room from stress. Ah, what a magical time puberty was.

The walk to our lockers is very different than it was back then. This time, Shay seeps confidence in her stride. Kayla lets her shoulders relax. I'm smiling. It was our year, and we'd make sure it went as perfect and picturesque as it did in every single show on Freeform.

Seriously, they make senior year look like the queen's coronation.

We maneuver through the crowd, flashing smiles at a few friends. I guess you could say I'm "popular," but any attention I get is from the other two of the trio. It's not because I'm disliked, I just don't really make the effort to make friends. Kayla and Shay do that for me- something that I do greatly appreciate. Plus, being slightly detached means I don't have to talk to every single person that approaches us.

Jenna Wallace being one of those people.

The leach links arms with Shay, giggling with her annoyingly high-pitched voice.

I may or may not dislike Jenna with every inch of my being. But she's on the track team with Shay, so I have to deal.

"Isn't just exciting to be here, girls? How was your summer by the way? I know mine was amazing. It's a shame you guys were always busy, because I went to so many concerts with my mom's passes," she says. It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes.

"Sorry Jen, I was in Mexico for those last few offers," Shay explains.

Jenna's smile tightens. "No worries. Kayla and Lyric, you guys should've come. Lyric, have I ever told you how much I love your name?"

Deep breaths.

"Several times," I mutter.

There are many things I dislike about Jenna Wallace. Some are trivial, others are more significant. I hate her voice, I hate her face, I hate her presence... the list goes on. However, the biggest reason is how fake she is. Her golden hair and winning smile might fools some but not me. Everything Jenna does has a purpose; every purpose is personal gain. I'd rather spend my time and breath on someone worth while.

I tune out the conversation. I'd rather keep my brain from melting, thank you very much.

One by one, the group dwindles. They all have lockers up front with "Butler" and "Cole." Luckily, the t**t ran away to another group of victims once Shay left. I always have a longer walk with "Peterson" being so much lower in the alphabet.

I find my locker in its usual corner. It still has the same stain gracing its blue tent. Not to mention the scratches left from generations of angsty teenagers.

Personally, my touch to the locker were the dozens of tallies carved into the frame. Each one marks another day within these prison walls. It was one year short, but it was still my masterpiece.

Now, my friends, is when I commence my daily school checklist.

Put stuff away? Check.

Add a tally? Check.

Find the only two people I ever talk to? Check.

Our trio connects again as we head into physics. In my opinion, any form of science is the worst form in the world. It's too messy for my taste.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not an exact neat-freak. Of course, I like things tidy. Any sane person in my position would. What can I say, I like constants. So I dislike science for the same reason I dislike geometry- it's too lenient.

"God Ly, try to look more like a serial killer," Kayla teases. I attempt to wipe off my scowl but merely manage a grimace. Physics sucks.

Students slowly filter into the classroom, surrounding us in desks. We mindlessly gossip about how Chad Lopez is back from expulsion (he hijacked the principal's car on a bender) and how perverted the new gym teacher is when a hot Latino sits on Kayla's desk.

"Ei mamãe, long time no see, eh?" he says with a wink. She flushes, attempting to push him off the desk.

"Bebê, your face is as red as your hair."

I snicker at the train wreck happening before.

Kayla Cole has always been an... interesting character. Although she is very public about her quote on quote "dying love" for Van, she sure likes attempting to get over him again, and again, and again. She wasn't a slut; Kayla isn't one to drop her pants at anyone. But she definitely has had a variety of guys. Guys love her bombshell personality and stunning looks. She was like Ariel come to life.

I glance over to Shay awkwardly twirling her hair at her desk. PDA always made her uncomfortable.

"Jarin, just sit down," Kayla sighed. He smirked and placed a hand on her thigh.

"But I am sitting."

"Somewhere else."

"Like your lap?"

"Jarin!"

Finally, he got the message, begrudgingly walking to an empty seat in the back- not without blowing her a kiss, though. She slams her head on her desk and groans. I poke her side and flash a sideways grin.

"Looks like a real keeper Red," I coo.

She flicks me off with a frown.

I sit back, breathing in and out slowly. In and out. In and out. It's a mantra I use on occasion; it's a defense mechanism for me. Sometimes, on stressful days, a few deep breaths can manage to steady my beating heart.

The adrenaline of the first day has passed. Now it's just the anxiety left over. So many things can go wrong in a year. Sure, senior year was sort of like the free pass of high school. All I'd really have to stress about was keeping a clean record for college. But I know you can only do so much, leaving many opportunities for someone to come in and ruin everything. It happens all the time.

My ears perk up at the door clicking open, assuming it was the teacher. The boy walking in does not match a teacher's persona.

He's new, obviously; I would've remembered a face like that. He was dressed head-to-toe in dark clothes with headphones in. Cropped chestnut hair, tan skin, tall and broody- he's a stereotype right off a teen romance novel. His eyes scanned the room until our stares met.

Normally, I would pull away. But I didn't. I held my ground and held the gaze of his hazel eyes. There were no words. It was an exchange of mutual respect. It's like we immediately understood each other, however cliche it may sound.

Eventually, we broke away, me finding the ground very interesting, and him taking the open seat in front of me.

This time, the door click actually revealed Mr. Brooks in all his pompous glory. How a grown man can enter a classroom on a Monday morning, already smirking with self-importance is beyond me.

"Good morning, class. Nice to see some familiar faces-" he eyes me "-and some new ones. As you know, I'm Mr. Brooks and will be inducting all of you into the wonderful world of physics. If all goes well, you guys will learn a thing or two while also putting a science course on your transcripts.

"I don't take disrespect well. I also require effort from each and every one of you. As Miss Peterson knows, I expect the most of any student."

My face flares up as the class snickers. I bite my tongue, knowing anything would land me in the office. I wasn't exactly Mr. Brooks' teacher's pet.

But that was completely unnecessary.

Prick.

"Anyways, I like to have my new students introduce themselves. So, Mr. Powell, please come to the front."

Stereotype gets up from his seat and awkwardly positions himself against the board. After clearing his throat, finally the mystery man speaks.

"I'm Hudson. I moved here from like ten other states. And I f*****g hate talking about myself." He turns to Mr. Brooks. "Was that introduction to your satisfaction, sir? Might I add I put in maximum effort."

A ticking time bomb. That expression fits our gracious teacher to the "t." He had to grit his teeth together to avoid flipping his entire lid at Hudson, who was smirking.

"Powell. Office. Now," he all but growled. I look around at all the choked up faces. Everyone in the room was desperately trying to contain their laughter.

Hudson saunters to the door, taking his sweet time. Before the door closed, he shouted back, "You're lucky I'll tolerate your disrespect Mr. Brooks!"

Well that was an entrance.

Welcome to South Bay High.