Misery Business

"So, did you have a nice day at school?"

Dad's voice pulls me away from the suburban scenery and I turn to glare at him through my Dior shades. He nods in defeat and puts his eyes back on the road.

Thankfully the awkward silence is brief as dad whips the car around the circular driveway leading to the Fox family's very nice home. Foxy's my best friend because we both know what it's like for people to be jealous of us. Her house is way cooler than mine though. I don't know why she always wants to come over to my place instead. Fortunately I convinced her that I needed a break from dad before he made us do something totally queer like watch home videos or something.

He comes to a complete stop in front of the door, and to my horror, he double honks the horn to let them know that I've arrived. The bell would have worked just fine. After releasing a defeated sigh, I unfasten my seatbelt and make my escape.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

I spin around thinking he's going to further humiliate me by asking for a goodbye kiss on the cheek or something, but he nods to my bookbag in the back seat. He allowed me to come over because he thinks Foxy and I are working on a science project together. Honestly, who assigns a project on the first day of school?

"Oh. Right."

I reach into the backseat and pull my bookbag out and sling it over my shoulder.

"You kids have -"

Before he can finish I slam the car door shut and bound up the steps to Foxy's house, where she greets me at the door thanks to dad's announcement of my arrival.

"Did he buy it?" Foxy asks as she holds the door open for me.

I nod and step inside. The project excuse was Foxy's idea. Her ability to lie on the spot never fails to impress me.

"He is so clueless." She laughs as she twists the lock.

She steps beside me and snakes her arm around mine, intertwining her fingers with my own and pulling me towards the stairs. "Come on, let's go to my room before Beverly spots us." I don't know why Foxy's mom annoys her so much. She's nowhere near as bad as my dad.

You have to see it to believe it, but Foxy's room is kind of the shit. The ceiling and walls are draped with red velvet, and her bed is pink with a red velvet headboard and these two hot pink end tables on each side. Not to mention a vanity table, a privacy partition which also doubles as a full length mirror, and oh yeah, a walk in closet. It's like, Barbie's boudoir. One day she came home from school and her mom had completely redecorated it for her. She said it was time she had a big girl room. Ugh, do you know how long it took me to talk my dad into upgrading from dinosaur sheets?

---

I climb onto my bed and melt into the plush row of pillows behind me as Xander empties the contents of his bookbag onto the comforter. Cosmopolitan, Seventeen, Maxim, all the necessities. Once it's empty, Xander drops his bookbag on the floor and throws himself across the foot of my bed and props himself up with his elbow.

I sit up and flip open Cosmo. The Bible as far as I'm concerned.

I guess most kids our age would talk about the first day of school, but Xander and I have all of the same classes since I convinced the guidance counselor that someone had to make sure he didn't get lost in the halls. So once a week we meet at my house and talk about everyone.

"So what'd you think of the new girl?" Xander asks as he scans over an upside down page of Maxim.

"Who?" I have to double check.

"I don't remember her name. Michael Jordan or something." Xander shrugs.

"Oh." I laugh as it comes to me. "The fat one."

"Exactly!" Xander laughs. We're such bitches. "I saw her hanging out with Nysha during lunch."

"Serves her right." I sigh as I recline against the headboard. "People like that deserve each other."

"Does that mean we deserve sitting through Rachel and Alex's public display sesh during lunch? Because I almost barfed my corndog. Straight kisses are so gross." Xander whines as he flips his magazine shut.

"You know you liked that meat in your mouth too much to spit it out. Everyone knows you swallow anyway." I joke. Xander blushes, but he can't hide his smile.

I've always given Xander snaps for being one of only two openly gay kids in the school. The other is Alton, who is best friends with Sam, who is like, the only other black chick in the school. They so try to be us. We're thinking about taking legal action.

You'll notice I said they're the only two openly gay guys. Because plenty of down low jocks and closet cases have tapped that. The only reason I don't out these homos myself is because if everyone knew how many 'straight guys' Xander's turned, they'd find out what a slut he is.

"Besides," I continue. "Rachel may be a real life version of Barbie's flat chested teenage sister Skipper, but we have to pretend to be nice to her. At least to her face. Those are the rules."

"What exactly are the rules again?" Xander asks, looking up at me as he chews on his bottom lip.

I sigh. We've been over this a dozen times. "Because. Rachel is popular. Alex is popular. Hanging out with them makes us popular..." I wait to see if he can put together the rest.

"But aren't we popular on our own?" He asks, again, innocuously.

"Well, we kind of are, but America is hella prejudice, so they prefer the cookie cutter couple. That's why we hang out with them. But they wont be so cookie cutter once I'm finished with them." A smile begins to tug at my lips as I say the last part.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Haven't you ever heard the phrase keep your friends close, and your enemies closer?"

"No." Xander shrugs.

I can feel my shoulders sink. "It means that I'm only pretending to be Rachel's friend so I can find dirt on her. The day that she slips up, I'll be there. Then, once I've blabbed about it to the entire school and little miss perfect ain't so perfect anymore, there'll be a new H.B.I.C."

"Who?"

"Me!"

Just when I think I can't be anymore frustrated...

"Knock, knock!"

Ugh.

---

Foxy's mom is like, really pretty. She's always reminded me of one of those cougars on that Desperate Housewives show my dad watches.

"What, Mother?"

If looks could kill, I'd be calling an ambulance for Foxy's mom right now.

"Kathryn," I can tell that Foxy wants to drop dead of embarrassment when her mom calls her by her real name. "Have you seen my ring? The heart shaped one from Tiffany's?"

I see the ring on Foxy's right ring finger before she slides it underneath her leg.

"Nope."

I don't think her mom buys it, because she continues to stand in the doorway and tap her foot as she scans Foxy's eyes for any sign of deceit, but she doesn't let up. It's scary how good she is.

"Xander," Foxy's mom lingers on her daughter for another second before turning to look at me. "Are you staying for dinner?"

It isn't an invite. More of a let me know either way so I know how many places Ling should set at the table.

"Sure, if that's cool."

She nods. "I'll have Ling set an extra place at the table."

And with all of her business in the room done, she was gone without another word.

---

My mom so wishes she was one of those Real Housewives. The ring is more age appropriate for me anyway.

Before I can bitch my frustrations to Xander, my pink iPhone 4 vibrates on the bedside table. It's Deryck.

"I wanna wrap your legs around my head and wear you like a feed bag."

Charming. He's probably texting me off of a prepaid phone.

I might have been offended if I hadn't heard worse from him. Last year in algebra he told me that U + I = 69. And today when I told him to make room for me at lunch, he told me that there was an extra seat on his face.

The truth is, Deryck is a kinda cute, kinda hot, kinda sexy, kinda funny bad boy, which is totally my thing. If he wasn't so white trash I'd think about breaking him off a piece of chocolate. But, there are no trips to Tiffany & Co. in a future with him, and what I need as a woman is financial security.

Instead of telling him to get a job to help his mother make rent, I ignore him. Only because I know he'll think I want nothing to do with him, and then he'll want me even more. Boys are too easy.

I know it probably sounds like I'm a scheming bitch and a bit of a sociopath, but I don't see anything wrong with getting a head start on the ladder of success. I only have three years of high school left and they're going to be all. about. me.

Mark my words.