Chanel’s American Dream

Chapter 5: The Rules of Rebellion

The first thing I notice about the group is that they operate with a kind of unspoken code.

By the time Friday rolls around, I’ve managed to sit with them at lunch every day, earning a spot at their table. Lori insists I’ve “passed the vibe check,” whatever that means. Debby rolls her eyes at Lori’s theatrics, but Jane seems genuinely happy to have me there. Stephen mostly stays quiet, but his occasional half-smile when Lori says something outrageous feels like a subtle nod of approval.

Today, Lori decides it’s time for what she calls “an initiation.”

“Every rebel has to have rules,” she declares as we huddle together outside the art room after school. The hallway is mostly empty, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead.

“Rules for rebelling?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” Lori says, grinning like she’s just invented the concept. “Otherwise, it’s just chaos. Fun chaos, sure, but we need a system.”

“Here we go,” Debby mutters, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

“Rule number one,” Lori begins, holding up a finger. “Never apologize for who you are. Ever. No exceptions.”

“Unless you’re an actual jerk,” Jane interjects, her soft voice carrying an edge of firmness.

“Fine,” Lori concedes. “Unless you’re a jerk. But Chanel’s not a jerk, so it’s a non-issue.”

I can’t help but smile at the way they bounce off each other.

“Rule number two,” Lori continues, “always, always have each other’s backs. No matter what.”

This one lands a little heavier. Stephen nods slightly, and even Debby uncrosses her arms, her expression softening.

“Rule number three,” Lori says, her grin turning mischievous, “break at least one rule every week. Big or small, doesn’t matter. But you’ve got to push boundaries.”

Jane frowns. “I’m not sure that’s the best advice.”

“Relax, Jane,” Lori says, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “It’s more about mindset than actual anarchy. Besides, we’re here to help Chanel with her bucket list, right?”

Everyone looks at me, and for a moment, I feel like I’m standing on a stage under a spotlight.

“You told them about my list?” I ask, turning to Lori.

“Of course,” she says unapologetically. “It’s our job as your new best friends to make sure you check off every single item.”

Jane claps her hands together. “That sounds so exciting! What’s on the list?”

I hesitate, feeling vulnerable under their expectant gazes. But then I remind myself of why I made the list in the first place—*to live, to break free, to find myself.*

“Okay,” I say, pulling the crumpled piece of paper from my pocket. “Here it is.”

I unfold it, my fingers trembling slightly, and read aloud:

1. Get a tattoo

2. Attend Coachella

3. First kiss

4. Lose my virginity

5. Take a solo trip

6. Find myself

The silence that follows is heavier than I expected. Lori’s grin widens like a kid who’s just found a treasure chest. Jane’s eyes grow wide, and her cheeks turn pink. Debby lets out a low whistle.

“Well, well,” Lori says, leaning in. “Our little Chanel has some big plans.”

“Some of those are... bold,” Jane says, her voice laced with concern.

“That’s the point,” I reply, surprising myself with the conviction in my tone.

Stephen, who’s been quiet the entire time, finally speaks up. “Which one are you starting with?”

I look down at the list, the words staring back at me like a dare.

“Number one,” I say firmly. “Get a tattoo.”

Lori whoops, throwing her hands in the air. “Now we’re talking! This is going to be epic.”

“Wait,” Jane says quickly. “You’re not seriously thinking of doing this, are you? Tattoos are permanent!”

“That’s kind of the idea,” I say, feeling a spark of rebellion ignite in my chest.

Debby smirks. “I like her already.”

Lori grabs my arm, dragging me toward the door. “Let’s go. I know a guy.”

“What, now?” I ask, panic rising in my voice.

“No time like the present,” Lori says, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Wait!” Jane exclaims, hurrying to catch up. “We can’t just leave! What about school rules? What if we get caught?”

“Relax, Jane,” Lori says with a wave of her hand. “Breaking rules is part of the fun, remember? Rule number three.”

Stephen follows silently, his hands stuffed in his pockets. As we step out into the crisp afternoon air, I feel a mix of exhilaration and terror.

This is it. My first real act of rebellion. My first step toward becoming the person I want to be.

The tattoo shop is small and tucked away in a strip mall, its neon sign blinking faintly in the fading light. As we approach, my heart pounds in my chest.

“You ready for this?” Lori asks, her grin infectious.

I take a deep breath, clutching my bucket list in my hand. “Ready.”

As we step inside, the buzz of the tattoo machine fills the air, mingling with the scent of ink and antiseptic. The artist—a burly guy with a full sleeve of tattoos and a surprisingly kind smile—looks up from his work and nods at us.

“Who’s the brave one?” he asks.

I step forward, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “I am.”