Georgia Tell - The Friendship Ruse

Georgia Tell

Copyright 2017 by GeorgiaTell

This is a work of fiction.The characters and events described herein are imaginary and arenot intended to refer to specific places or to living persons aliveor dead. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may bereproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by anymeans, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic ormechanical methods without the prior written permission of thepublisher except for brief quotations embodied in criticalreviews.

ISBN978-0-9995788-1-0

Cover design byCamille

Published by Blue HairBooks

Visit authors website:www.GeorgiaTell.com

Follow author on Twitter:@GeorgiaTell

Thank you to Camille,Dianna, Kim, Alana and

Stephanie.

I dont have friends, and I only half-know why.

Russell Jonson, some kid inmy fifth period class, stopped at the table where Id chosen to eatmy food. I pulled my jacket close around my body and took a hugebite of my burrito from the truck that parked out by the front ofschool every Friday.

Russell was a pretty niceguy. He was on the football team and stood like five feet tallerthan my 5 feet 2 inches. He was one of the few people whoacknowledged my existence and the only one to say hi in passing.He was smiling, which was kind of what he did all the time. Imaginethat, someone is actually happy. Hi, he said.

Hi. See? I did it right.I didnt start with some big honking expletive at the beginning ofthis or any social interaction.

Hows itgoing?

Good. Wow, Im totallycaptivating and a great person to be around. My single syllableanswer fell like a phone into a puddle of watery mud on a rainyday. I knew I should say something more, but as each microsecondticked by, the silence grew bigger. Geek, dork, outcast, lame couchpotato, I told myself. What was I doing? I had no idea. Someone wasbeing nice to be me, and my big mouth had nothing tosay.

Okay, he said. Ill seeyou around then.

Bye, I was short withhim. Maybe because I was filtering myself out of his league? Idont know. I knew he was too cool, too good-looking, too nice tobe my friend. I imagined he was just giving me a second of hisattention as a pity-party favor. In my mind, there was no way hewas genuine. I was setting myself up for permanent failure in thefriend department. He left. I focused on my burrito.

Denise Walker, headcheerleader (and, it was generally agreed, head drama queen), wasabout ten feet away from my table. She was pretty. Dark hair anddark eyes. Skinny, but nothing close to my stick figure status.Good height taller than me, but, well, everyone is taller thanme. Hey, she said, smiling up at Dean Sexton. Hows that for aname, Sexton? I couldnt make that up if I tried. She was standingunnaturally close to him. It made me want to remind her that I wassitting right there, that they werent alone.

Dean, senior and studentbody president, leaned against my table. He was good-looking too.God, pretty attracts pretty. Where is there room in that for geekslike me? Darker hair than Denises, and darker eyes. Taller.Muscled type of skinny. And really good-looking arms. I know thatsa weird thing to notice, but theyre like model arms. Hey, hesaid, flashing Denise a Colgate bright smile. So Im going to SanFrancisco tonight for a show. You want to come with?

Denises eyes brightened,but her voice came out calm and composed and low, like she wastrying to be ultra-sexy. Sure, what time are you going to pick meup?

Seven.

Ill be ready.

Dean walked off, and Denisecollapsed onto the bench across from me. She smiled up at the skylike shed just won the lottery. She covered her mouth and laughed.Oh my god, howd this happen?

I grinned and answered,because I knew she wasnt talking to me so naturally it was thetime for my big mouth to make his appearance. Youre prettypeople, I said.

Her head whipped around,and she was glaring at me like Id peeped at her while she waschanging which, no, Ive never done, Im quite harmless,actually. What?

I said that you two arepretty people, thats why he asked you out.

She shook her head. Itsnot so superficial. Losers like you just think that, but itsbecause youre an ugly person inside and out. You just blame yourouter appearance and other people, but really its whats insidethat counts.

Wow, she was snappy. Didshe just call me an ugly person? Both inside and out? Even thoughshed never said a word to me otherwise? Nice, Denise, nice. Ileaned forward and raised my eyebrows. Do you even know myname?

She looked surprised for amoment, but a grin spread across her face. ItsRawley.

Thats my last name,Denise. I thought about it for a moment. Lily is in cheerleadingwith you, so of course youd know my last name. Lily was myasshole of a younger sister. It wouldnt be so bad having a youngersister if she was really little. But Lilys just a year youngerthan me, and because I must have some stunted growth or something,Im shorter and generally weaker than her. I cant do those olderbrother noogies and tease her for being such a girly empty-headedbimbo, because she could just pound my face into a bloody mess onthe pavement. Naw, she would never do that; shed just hold me downand pinch me until I get bruises which basically means, shell bepinching me forever since I rarely bruise. I sighed, more depressedby that thought than I usually would be. Whats my first name,Denise Walker?

She squinted her eyes.This is so gay. Youre stupid. She stood up.

Its Warren. My name isWarren. I stood up, gathered my trash and grabbed my bag. Donttell me that I have a bad personality if you dont even know myname. And I walked away like a super cool actor who just revealedthe most important bit of information, except I stumbled and thebell rang.

Yep, the rest of my Fridaypassed as I reveled in my glory. It didnt matter that DerekJiracle made some joke at my expense during fifth period. It didntmatter that Benny Higald completely ignored my frantically wavinghand when she asked for questions at the end of herpresentation.

When the final bell rang, Iwalked home. My sister wasnt with me because she always had somecheer practice or something after school.

Mom was scrubbing theentranceway hardwood floor when I opened the door. Hello,honey.

Hi, Mom. Do you need to bedoing that? Its pointless. Me n Lily are just gonna track someshi dirt in. I caught myself swearing because my mom hates itwith a passion.

She sighed. Just donttrack dirt in, then. How was your day? My mom is a nervous woman.She shakes and I can tell shes always trying her hardest. But Istill feel like a disappointment to her. Im not manly. Sometimes,I wondered if it would be better for me to go on some sort ofManQuest and go live out in the wilderness for a month, perhapskill a bear (or two) in the process. Then shed never have to beembarrassed at the family reunions when Dads brothers werebragging about how their sons are the captains of their footballteams or dating the head cheerleaders or scoring the most amazinggoals in their extracurricular soccer teams.

Good.

Thats good. Do you needany help with your homework?

Mom, Im not ababy.

But youre not doing yourbest. You need to do your best. My mom is obsessed with success.Of course, having a few flaws made me love her. She is human. Sheis possible. My dad, on the other hand, is too perfect to bebelieved. Hes supportive and loving to the nth degree. Its almostdisgusting. I hate it. Luckily, I didnt have to see him too much.He was always traveling.

I went upstairs to my room.My man cave was stuffy, so I opened the window and let the cool airin. My room overlooked the backyard, and there was a huge treealmost devoid of leaves that stood between my house and the housewhose backyard mirrored ours.