325: Bad Girls (Creative)

325: Bad Girls (Creative) 

Initially, we used to sit in a small but comfortable hidden alcove by the back of the school, shielded by a tall fence suffocated with overgrown vines and weeds. After school, the trio and I would come here to smoke a variety of substances. Well, the trio did. I simply sat in front of them and watched as tendrils of smoke curled up from their respective rolled joints.

For an ongoing turnaround of better-than-average assignments, major works and other schoolwork, the price I charged was friendship. It was the cheapest offer the trio could find from anyone in the comprehensive, or so they thought. They were obligated to return the favour in some way, and so brought me into their lives at the alcove. They did not dislike me, but the air between us was always heavy with uncomfortable tension. I grew accustomed to this, having accepted that I was trapped in a state of limbo until I graduated.

They were the bad girls. They smoked, didn’t do their homework, flipped off teachers, attended parties, drank underage and did a myriad of other things they didn’t tell me about. A lot of rumours at school flew around about them. Whose hearts did they break now? Who did they give a lap dance to last Saturday night? Teenagers are nasty people. If they get bored enough, they’ll spin stories, rumours, anything to liven up their dreary high school days. I have enough reason to believe they had become immune to the scrutiny of the public eye. They lived without abandon, with a drive to achieve euphoria with their substances. Someone must have seen me walk with them around to the alcove, because over the next few weeks, I was labelled the new “bad girl”. What terrified me most was that they weren’t far from the truth. Even though I never smoked with the girls or attended parties with them, I had my own demons to contend with.

After school rituals cut into my own time. I was forced to constantly lie about my whereabouts and had to pop up in certain places at certain times to avoid being caught. It took a while for me to get over the initial guilt, but it got easier when I convinced myself that it didn’t matter since I was already a bad girl. Why was I bad? I couldn’t stop lying about everything. I met random boys in bars and enjoyed turning them down when they asked if they could bring me home. I was bad because I enjoyed doing these things. Someone found out, called me a bad girl and now I am one of the bad girls. It’s a vicious cycle. Do something the public eye is going to judge you for, and you’re instantly labelled a bad girl.

Apparently, I was less liked as a bad girl. It really cut into the safe nerdy stereotype I had been before I met the trio. Although, I have to realise, there were two streams of bad girls. The trio was on one stream and I was on the other. People liked the trio. They hated me. I guess it depends on what kind of bad you are, and what other people root for. The trio were a good kind of bad. I was more innately evil. Something like that.


~ Serendipitous

I was going somewhere with this.

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