An Actual Story

So I began to work on my own novel - I guess that's what you'd call it? I'm only on the first draft of the first chapter or so and I need some motivation to continue so I decided to post it. That way, I may be more motivated to continue it. Anyway, here it is. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1 – Hell Week

“Ughhhh” I groaned as I tried to turn over to my side but a stabbing pain in my side reminded my why I was lying the way I was in the first place. As I tried to stand up, my foot caught on the side table and I fell to the floor, as blackness covered my vision. “Damn..not again…” I mumbled as I sank to the ground, too weak to fight off the darkness.

It seemed like only yesterday I was laughing and throwing fries at my friends except it’s been about half a year. The truth is I am sick of the lies everyone lives on, sick of all the petty little dramas that go on in high school. Then again, the drama that’s currently ruining my life started in Middle School. I know what you’re thinking, “the good old days” where blowing off a class meant you’d get detention, where you could sleep in math and still get an A, where your friends liked you for who you are and didn’t judge you. I miss that childhood innocence, but I soon realized it was all a façade and it took me three years to figure that out and I’m trying to save you that trouble. Friendship didn’t matter unless you had friends who were connected to the right people in High School. Everyone knew how important popularity was once you got into High School. In High School, if you were popular you ruled the school and it was a serious game to see who would get in and who wouldn’t. Middle School was the judging ground where your High School social life would be decided. The friends you made in Middle School could make or break you and believe me, friendships lasted only for that reason – to climb up that hellish social ladder.

Back then, there were basically three groups – the “Little Devils”, the “Tolerated” and the “Forgotten”. The “Little Devils” were, in a word, goddesses. Everyone worshiped the ground they walked on. Girls would kill to be a part of them. The “Tolerables” were just that – tolerable. They were deemed socially acceptable. They were smart and popular, but not as popular as the Devils or their boy counterparts the “Players”. They were in fact players and the sole property of the Devils. If either caught you looking at them, rumors would go flying at the snap of a finger – Sheila’s finger to be specific. She was the Zeus of the Olympians, the Riff of the Jets, the Regina of the Plastics (that is the perfect analogy, may I add). Her counterpart would be Michael of the Players – the most handsomely cruel of them all. With light brown hair sun kissed with blond highlights, deep-set soft brown eyes, and the build of a Greek God, he was the desire of all the girls and the envy of all the boys. He was Sheila’s property and she his. They were THE exclusive couple of the school and had enough drama to supply the entire North Shore of Illinois. Michael was not as stupid as people made him out to be – in fact, he was the brighter of the two, though not by much. It wasn’t just perfect grades that set them apart from the rest; it was their uncanny ability to manipulate anyone around them at their will and some would call it close to Antisocial Personality Disorder. It was Michael’s job to seduce any and every girl he laid eyes on and then rip out her heart for the world to see – and mainly torment us, the “Forgotten”. Ironically, we weren’t actually forgotten; we were the most targeted. We were deemed socially challenged and inept. The Devils and Players took it upon themselves to torture us whenever they could – which meant every second of our lives. It wasn’t always physical torture (though that was preferable). Mostly, it was mind games and nasty rumors spread by none other than Sheila.

(to be continued...in the near future...hopefully)