The Boy Who Knew Me When
Chapter ONE
There was no other way to look at it: I..am..a..loser! Not one college acceptance other than Austin Community College, which I did not particularly need to get “accepted” into because well, it is a community college. A college for people with big fat LOSER stamped on their forehead, for people who slacked off in high school and hold very little hope of a future. And for those blessed individuals with no family to give a damn about them; in other words, for people like me. It was my own fault really because for the majority of my high school experience I had very little ‘give a fuck’ and a whole lot of ‘fuck it.’
Brea, my best friend since fifth grade did not even bother to apply to college. She did not see the point of paying thousands upon thousands of dollars to what she called an “elitist organization” when she could get the same education for next to nothing locally. But that was Brea. To be honest Brea could scoop shit for the rest of her life and still be perfectly happy.
When you are five foot seven with legs that go on forever, have Marilyn Monroe cleavage, skin like ivory, thick voluptuous naturally red lips and hair as dark as midnight you kind of don’t need to have a care for what the future holds. Everything in the world is just kind of handed to you. At least, that is what it seemed like from my point of view. That was Brea, drop dead gorgeous Brea, every man’s fantasy, every boy’s wet dream. Not that Brea didn’t have any plans. She had plenty of them but she didn’t have to go about it like the rest of us did. She just woke up and the seas parted. Therefore, Brea and her decision to go to community did not make her a loser, it made her a rebel and as far as I was concerned it made her even more perfect.
Don’t get me wrong, I am no dog. I am aware that I have certain attributes that would prevent me from having to leave the house with a bag over my head. But I also know that I am different in a way that not even I can explain. For one, my face is “off”. Brea says I am nuts but I can see it, I am not blind. My eyes are round, not the large yet sexy bedroom round eyes you would find on let’s say Amanda Siegfried, they are half the size and sunk into my head so that I look like a puffer fish. The only saving grace preventing them from making me look like a total perv is the glassy blue color that says “Fuck with me and I will turn you to stone”.
Not to mention, my nose is too long, my neck is longer than my head, my auburn hair is a stringy, lifeless mess and my lips are so full it always looks like I am pouting or blowing kissy faces further elevating my fish status, especially when I am pissed, which is why I try my best NOT to be pissed. And my body, GAWD, don’t get me started. Besides my slightly saggy 36 D’s, my legs are too long and my butt is too big. Thank goodness I am not brain dead because I would be completely hopeless.
As far as guys, well, according to my friend Brandon who just so happens to be my first boyfriend, “Jem, you have your head too far up your ass to give a damn about anyone other than yourself, no matter how much they care about you.”
Of course he said that 20 minutes after I dumped him, right before Senior Prom and he has apologized more times than I care to count, but he said it none the less. Maybe he is right; my head is a little bit up my ass. Hence, why I am stuck at ACC instead of going off to someplace amazing like New York or Los Angeles for higher education like most of my senior class, himself included.
I met Brandon freshman year, he was new to Taylor, Texas, a small nothing little town about an hour outside of Austin. Thanks to our high school principal, Mrs. Hale (who just so happens to be my aunt), I was nominated for welcoming committee. I had fought tooth and nail to avoid being noticed and here I was being forced to put on a smile and show some stranger the ways of high school. Something I myself knew NOTHING about.
My dilemma quickly resolved itself, turning into a new dilemma once our eyes locked on one another. I had never had a boyfriend, not that I had any interest in them. There was way too much shit going on in my life to bother noticing the opposite sex. Not to mention that I was only 15, one year older than most of my friends thanks to failing seventh grade.
But here was this boy, who I very much noticed, taking my breath away. Here, standing outside of second period with my aunt in tow, stood this nearly six-foot-tall, fourteen-year-old Adonis, blonde messy hair, ripped to the nines, lips that would have made any girl want to taste them, naturally tanned skin, angelic hazel-colored eyes and amazing hands. Oh my gawd, his hands were beautiful! I found myself at only fifteen years old wishing they were all over me, an image that turned my body pretty much to mush. Then he smiled, he smiled and I fell flat on my ass sending my books flying down the hall and leaving my cheeks crimson from embarrassment.