{Because, even though I won't admit it, I do like some crappy, teen romance... If you couldn't tell, I was/am bored. }
{The Sorry Lives of Margie and Beatrix} [Chapter 1: To Go or Not To Go
"That must be it, there are a ton of people there,"
Margie looked up from the old, worn-out book in her lap, glasses on the tip of her pointed nose. Margie, if looked upon by a stranger, would have been mistaken for a skinny, frail thirty year old liberian. At least, that's what I thought.
Unlike most of the girls at our high school, she wore baggy capris, flower blouses she found in the little girls section of some thrift shop and always had her frizzy brown hair pulled back into a lopsided braid. You'd never be able to tell she was my best friend if it wasn't for the fact that we were always together, no matter what.
She lived next door to me, always had. When we first met, we were only five, but as soon as we found out we both were cursed with terrible names that would forever be made fun of,, we quickly became friends. Our names soon became almost one. You didn't say one with out the other following behind. The whole neighborhood knew us, Margie and Beatrix, the two girls from Beam Road, never seen with out the other. It has always been that way and always will.
Margie chewed thoughtfully on a piece of gum while I eased the car to a stop at a stoplight. After a moment of silence, which wasn't uncommon with Margie, she blurted out, "I don't want to go."
I was shocked.
Let me explain the whole situation here. Margie and I were on a way to a birthday party. Let me tell you something: Margie and I are never invited to anything by our fellow highschoolers. It's no surprise. Margie has a chest as flat as the African plains and I act more like a boy than any girl. Basically, we're number -25 on the 'coolness list', which if you don't know how the 'coolness list', is pretty dang low. And people wonder why I hate high school.
Anyway, the fact that we were invited to party in the first place is such a huge deal that my stomach is twisted in giant, sailor tied knots as I drive down the road to our destination. What took those knots and tightened them was the fact that it wasn't some Runescape playing nerd who lived in the basement's party, but an actual, sun-touched person. That person, to be exact, was Rebecca Nolton. Rebecca runs the school. Not in some preppy, party, cheerleader girl sort of way. No, she runs it because she's so freaking brilliant and smartand she's model material. She has all three of the gifts! How unfair is that?
I still think we were invited to the party on accident. Margie and I had been sitting at a picnic table in The Beach Towel, the long stretch of grass and brightly decorated sidewalks that sat smack dab in the middle of our high school. It had been given the nickname, The Beach Towel, because it basically looked like one. Rectangle with crazy designs.
Margie was busy devouring a science magazine while chomping away on pretzels, while I studied my World History textbook like my life depended on it, because it did. Finals were never my thing. Suddenly, three guys, all wearing some variation of the same shirt, burst out into The Beach Towel, stacks of papers in their arms. I immediately recognized them to be Rebecca's twin brother, Grant, and his two best friends, Lucas and Dean.
Before we knew it, flyers advertising Rebecca's birthday party were flying everywhere. A mummer swept through once dead silent Beach Towel as everyone received a invite. Margie and I shrugged and went back to reading. We didn't expect to be invited. We both froze in shock as a flyer floated down to our table as Grant walked by.
"I think you dropped one!" I shouted once I realized what had happened.
"I don't care, keep it. Don't forget to save the date," he said, not even glancing back to see who it was that he had left the invite with. I'm sure if he did and saw Margie and me sitting there, staring at the invite, he would have come rushing back, babbling some lame-ass excuse.
Okay, I know this is sounding like typical high school drama. I would probably gaging right now if it was someone else telling the story, but when it's you who is experiencing it; it's totally different.
So, this, after a nice long explanation, is why I was shocked. I had spent a hour digging through my clothes, which consisted of basketball shorts, soccer shorts, jogging shorts and every available pair of shorts you can find in the Dick's Sporting Goods . I ended up grabbing an old pair of jeans, which were now too big since I had taken up jogging, a tee-shirt and my favorite hoodie. It was the best I could do, seeing as I was to ashamed to go ask my older sister, Kelsey, for any of her clothes.
"Margie," I said, "You can't back out now! I mean, we're fifty feet away!"
Margie's perfectly round finger nails flew up to her mouth as she mumbled something about being like everyone else. In a panic I let the car coast on by Rebecca's house at a creepy, stalker speed. If anyone was looking out the window (if they could see over all the cars parked everywhere), they'd be freaked out by some weird-o, driving 5 miles per hour in a piece of crap Volkswagen. I pull into a random drive way half-way down the road and turn to yell at Margie, like I always do.
"Margie, you have, like, five seconds to make up you're freakin' mind," I threaten, " And, if you don't want to go, you can get out, I don't care."
It was a lie. I wouldn't go anywhere, let alone a party, without Margie. She was my lifeline, even if she did embarrass me at times. And Margie knew it as well. She gave me one of those looks that said, "Yeah, right. That'll happen as soon as I become prom queen, get a boyfriend and get rich. All at the same time."
Margie glanced out the window at the Nolton's, her lips turned into a full frown. No one can frown like her, no one. It's like someone to her smile and made it do a 180. Her frown almost made you want to frown.
"I just feel like we're trying to hard to, you know, fit in," she whispers. I roll my eyes. Who wasn't? High school was about fitting in, right? And Margie, even though she wasn't acting like it now, wanted to fit in too. Many nights, while spending the night at each others house, we had talked about what it would like to be more than some poorly dressed wall flowers. Now we were finally doing something about it and she was backing out! Unbelievable!
"Don't be an idiot,"I snap.
"I'm not being an idiot!"
"You're acting like one."
Margie glares at me,"What do you think we're accomplishing going to a party we were possibly not even invited to?"
"We were invited..."
Margie scoffs and shakes the orange invite we received weeks ago in front of my face, the scowl is worse than ever. She jerks her head towards the Nolton's house.
"We have never been to invited to a party before and now, magically, were on the list? I think not! Last time I checked, Rebecca didn't even know we existed. I swear, Beatrix, think!"
I hated to admit it, but Margie was right. We were most likely not invited to the party and if we showed up and anyone actually noticed, we'd get some strange looks. If Rebecca found out, we'd probably be shot, shoved in extra strength trash bags and buried out in the middle of the woods somewhere, since their yard was too good for us.
I shot Margie one of my angry, "You're right, but I'm not stupid." looks. She recognized it immediately and turned her scowl into a coy smile.
"So, just turn this piece of junk around and let's head back home before anyone sees us. I'm already embarrassed."
Like she was one to talk.
After I heave out a loud sigh, I put the car in reverse and rushed on by the Nolton's house, hoping no one saw us. It didn't take us long to get home, nuke some popcorn, throw on some crazy, low-budget movie and sit on our lazy butts for the rest of the afternoon, doing what we usual did every Saturday.
If I had known what I do now, I would slap myself, because going to the party might have made life much, much easier. Going to the party might have caused us temporary embarrassment, but not going, well, that would cost a whole lot of heartache and even a friendship.
Word to the wise: Never listen to your smart friends, because maybe they're not that smart after all.
{Haha! I hope you sort of enjoyed at the least. :D I figured my blog is for me to 'vent' on and just be me, which is hard to do, so, I'm writing a stupid, teen dramance. Yeah, don't hate. lol Haters don't get no love.
I'll try to keep The Sorry Lives updated! Thanks for reading!
-Grey}
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