The Queens of Pinehurst High

Noah's POV ----- The whispered taunts and sneakily delivered jabs, scratches, trips, or shoves from my fellow students are finally starting to wear me out. I am valiantly trying not to limp or let the tears of shame fall from my slightly sweaty face, but all I really want to do is break down and cry. Like the cry baby that the Canali Twins accused me of being when we were little snot-nosed kids, running through the forest pretending to be Storm troopers and Jedi Masters. Guess who always got lugged with being the singular bad guy in our childhood RPG? That would be me. The one with the v****a, rightly implying that the Galactic empire are a bunch of p***y's. These days tears are a little harder to come by, so the fact that I actually want to succumb to the emotions surprises me a bit. I have known the majority of the student body of Lakewood Prep for most of my academic life. Traditionally, entrance into a school as prestigious as this is conducted with a series of rigorous personal and academic background checks. Too bad the school board and higher ups didn't think of adding a possible prejudice section to the personal requirements for entry. It would save me permanently from the mean mugging I've been receiving lately, not just from the student body but the majority of professors on staff as well. Well, not the whole student body. Since making the decision not to follow the norm, doing my own research, then finally making a decision that I feel is right for me and then sticking to it - my long list of friends slowly started dwindling to the single digits until now; I can only rely on two people. My boyfriend, Connor MacMillan, and my best friend since middle school, Jasmine Skinner. I've known Jasmine since the beginning of freshman year. The daughter of a diplomat, Jasmine has been fortunate enough to have traveled with her parents to so many countries, experienced so many cultures that, at first, I was terribly jealous of her exciting life. It wasn't long before the bubbly personality of my long-time friend won me completely over. We have been almost inseparable since, and I often visit her in the school's dorms for movie nights or just a general hang out session. Lately though, those have been taking place solely at my house. My boyfriend Connor and I have been together for nearly 2 years. Born and raised in California, his father is a successful tech mogul who, despite being the sole heir to one of the oldest multi-billion dollar oil empires in America, made his own way in the world of fame, fortune and the disgustingly rich. Nobody would think that anyone from old money would be so down-to-earth and relatable, let alone members of a family who could trace their lineage back to the Mayflower.. But Connor is both those things and more, and I am so glad that he is all mine! I quickly trudge my way down the bustling corridor, hoping to get to the back of the school parking lot as quickly as possible, where my 2018 Cadillac CTS Sedan in gun-metal grey waits for me. There was a time when my beautiful car was welcomed by the elite right in front of the school. But those days are gone. Just like its owner, my gorgeous mode of transportation has been exiled to the darkest pits of car parking lot hell. Thanks to my steadfast refusal to change my decision, despite the drastic measures of coercion from my school, society and government. I'm almost at the double doors to freedom when I'm cruelly shoved to the side. An embarrassing little squeak of surprise escapes my lips as I almost lose my balance. The shiny, checkered marble floors are fast approaching my unprotected face, when I am suddenly supported by a small, warm hand grasping my elbow tightly to keep me from toppling over. "Hey watch it, Larson!" The irate but gentle voice of my best friend calms the shock to my system almost instantly. Scoffing loudly, Michael Larson yells over his shoulder, "Sorry Jasmine, not sorry anti-vaxxer!" Straightening my uniform skirt and harrumping in vexation, "It's Pro-Choice, you prejudiced prick!" I yelled out angrily at the rail-thin retreating back of King Nerd. Great! I'm lower than the nanobe of Lakewood Preparatory Academy, and I didn't know you could get any lower than that! Hugging me gently, Jasmine pulls away and smiles at me like the annoying ray of sunshine that she is, "Hey gorgeous! You ready to blow this joint?" She hooks her arm through mine and starts dragging me out of the double doors and down the steps towards the parking lot. "Up?" I sardonically ask with a lift of an eyebrow and then I shrug flippantly as I start weaving my way through the parked cars, dragging her along now - role reversal at it's finest. "Sure, as long as the idiots are still in the building." Earning a bark of surprised laughter from Jasmine, who follows me so closely now, I can feel her breathing down my neck. Yeesh! "No!" She shrieks as she pulls her arm from mine to wave cheerily at someone with two hands. In a plastic world, she would be named Sunshine Barbie for sure! "You crazy person!" she exclaims in outrage before she threads her arm through mine again, but this time from behind and squeezes the crook of my elbow awkwardly. Having my arm yanked back and held hostage at a weird angle, because we're now walking single file, probably looks strange to any on-looker, it's definitely not something we've done before. This new level of clingyness is not something we've ever explored in our many years of friendship. I wonder what's up with that? I mean, we're two peas in a pod for sure, but the pod has never been so far up my ass. "Because that would be called a school bombing and first degree murder of a thousand plus people, and I love you too much to allow you to be labeled the anti-vaxxing high school bomber from Pinehurst." Scoffing loudly, I rolled my eyes and replied sassily, " 1. It's not a school bombing if most of those bastards act worse than farm animals. It would be called a slaughter house and we humans eat the animals that end up in the slaughter house." Jasmine snickers behind me, my face lighting up with a grin in response before I continue with my tirade of self-proclaimed truth, "I'd be doing a great service to all the cities and towns in the great state of Georgia, heck maybe even the whole of the United States of America. I'll be the hero in this story! And 2. Lakewood Prep is too selective to have that many people on campus. Rich assholes are too busy playing 'I have the biggest balls made of money, not to mention obvious nepotism' to care about their children actually earning an honest education." Looking over and seeing the 'Elite' I point at them with an accusing finger as they watch me with fake stoic expressions on their faces, even though their eyes dart worriedly around the parking area. Eyeing them with faux evil intentions, I then shouted out loudly, "Yeah you bastards, I'm f*****g talking to you cronyistic pieces of s**t!" Earning me a few entertaining expressions, ranging from baffled, blank and angry. I continued strolling towards my poor neglected baby while throwing my head back with a chortle full of glee, "What's the bet they didn't understand a word I said, thereby proving my argument correct." I threw over my shoulder sassily. By the time I've finished my commentary, Jasmine is gasping and choking with loud bouts of wheezy laughter, stumbling along behind me while also continuing her little game of sucky tentacle octopus with my arm. "You're so bad, Noah!" she wheezes. Rolling my eyes dismissively, I cheekily replied, "Not bad, just right." Directing my key fob towards my lonely car, the chirpy beep that greets me relieves the slightly anxious feeling deep in my chest that's a constant unwanted companion while on school grounds. I'm so glad that it's Friday and not only is the day done, but the whole week is finally over, my Junior year is over and summer break can finally begin. ------------ At home, I come to a stop beside my boyfriend's car, which is parked in the driveway not far from the steps leading to the front door. I would usually carry on down the drive to the extensive garage round back, but the fact that my boyfriend is here at my house instead of at home, sends giddy little girly butterflies rushing through my tummy, like they're on their way to a sale at Abercrombie & Fitch. Throughout the whole day, I only managed to catch glimpses of my boyfriend, so I'm really happy that he decided to turn up at my house for an impromptu visit. Losing myself in thoughts of how best to convince Connor to stay long enough for dinner, I let myself in through the front door, calling out to let my mom know, "I'm home." As I moved to step towards the staircase to the second floor, I finally I realized that my mom hadn't called out her customary welcome home in return, followed by an influx of the one million and one questions about how my day was and who hurt me today. Strange. While taking the steps two at a time, I angled my head to the side, listening intently for signs of where my mother could be. Silence. Half way up the staircase, a creased line appears in between my brows as I finally am able to pick up the sounds of dull thuds and lowly grunts coming from the second floor on the east wing of my home. The only rooms on that side of the house are my parents' bedroom, their home offices and 2 guest bedrooms. Rushing up the rest of the way, I walked speedily towards that side of the house, hoping to offer my mom assistance because it kind of sounds like she's in the middle of moving furniture around. Which again, is strange. For as long as I've been alive, if new furniture was brought into the house or if any of the rooms were getting an overhaul, we were all made aware of the renovation plans well before the changes were actually made. So those sounds should not be coming from anywhere in the house at this time of the day. Walking down the corridor, I find my steps slowing down to a snails pace. Something doesn't feel right and the sounds coming from my parents bedroom are sounds I've heard before, but usually at night and they aren't sounds that occur often these days. Not as often as they used to. My cheeks flare a shade of embarrassed bright pink at the thought of my parents doing that! Gross! I'm right outside my parents' bedroom door, the grunts, groans and moans are more pronounced now. The sounds of the two voices give me pause, because they're recognizable, and as f****d up as it sounds, one of them does not sound like one of my parents at all. My hands quiver with trepidation as I reach to turn the door knob, hoping that I'm wrong and this is just a case of really disgusting geriatric, parental s*x. As the sliver of light peeks through the door frame and the door, the scene being slowly revealed causes my eyes to widen, my breath to stutter and my body to freeze in stunned anguish. Up against the wall is my mother, naked as the day she was born, with her head thrown back, legs and arms wrapped around the naked guy I thought I knew so well. His hands are full of my mother's ass, his mouth hungrily attached to her breast, while his hips piston hard and fast into her nether region. Unconsciously, I lift my hand towards my mouth as a stangled gasp leaves my lips, gaining the attention of my mother, whose eyes comically widen in shock as her surgically enhanced face drains of all colour. She struggles to push Connor away from her, shoving his shoulders hard to no avail. He continues to f**k my mother harder into the wall, totally oblivious to the compromising position I've found them in. It isn't until my mother grasps handfuls of his hair into her small hands and yanks, while loudly screeching, "Noah! It's-it's not what it looks like baby!", that Connor freezes and turns his head at an angle to easily see the door where I stand. I watch as his reddened face becomes more red with shame and then whitens with guilt, his mouth opens and closes like he's looking for the words to make this all better, but falls short because his brain is still mother f*****g s*x drunk. Literally. If my heart weren't breaking, I would find this whole situation hilarious. I would laugh like a f*****g Lion King worthy hyena over the way that his body is frozen mid pump, his face a mask of pale devastation, my mother's screeching or is it beseeching me trying to make me believe her bullshitting, cheating words delivered with crocadile tears while she starts slapping the arms of the guy I have been in love with for two years. I'm not sure what prompts me to do it, I don't even realize that I'm doing it until I have it in front of me with the appropriate app opened and ready. But as I wipe my tears of pain with one hand, the other clicks on the record button of my camera app and, as an after thought, I snap a few pictures before they comprehend my actions and the repercussions for them. Before they'd fully untangled themselves from each other, I'd already turned away and started walking towards my side of the house, pulling up my dad's contact and sending him the media evidence via MMS. I should be worried that my ears are filled with a rush of white noise, shouldn't I? But I'm not. I'm not worried about anything right now. My arm is roughly pulled back, forcing me to spin around to face the tear-streaked face of my mother. I am kind of relieved to see that it was her that followed me and not him or worse, both of them. She grabs my phone and all I can do is laugh out loud with my own tears streaming down my face. Her face crumples in abject horror at what she sees on my phone screen, because now I do feel something other than shock, anger and heartache. I feel justified.