***Setting: Rooftop, lunch room***
I was quick to convince my few typical friends that I was headed to the Dungeon Ruins to eat. The Dungeon Ruins- or, in other words, the local pizza place. It should be obvious that we need code names for anything and everything- after all, where's the fun in original names?
Despite my athletic un-inclination, it didn't take long for me to run upstairs to our meeting place, the school rooftop. By "our", I mean the Cliqueless. Ha. It's a shame I didn't come up with the name. It is a rather ingenious one at that. To my surprise, everyone's here today, instead of shucking and jivin' with their regular friends. Usually, one or two people will be off with their cliques. We have our excuses for why we can't sit with them every day--schoolwork, club activities, etc.--but if we neglect them every day, of course they'll get suspicious.
Don't get me wrong; I love my friends, and I love hanging out with them... But sometimes, it just gets so boring sitting around with a bunch of people who are all sort of the same. This rooftop is how we escape that. Though I'd never say it out loud, I'll admit to myself that it's great hanging out with everyone. Who is everyone? The rest of our not-so-clique-y clique. We've got myself, the Dork, a Popular, a Brain, a Goth, and a Jock. Or, as I like to say, Cool Kid, Braniac, Satanist, and our very own chauvinistic All-Star. Okay, so maybe she's not as chauvinistic as the stereotype defines, because, well, I did say "she." I used to think she was dumber than a box of rocks, but slowly, she's been working on proving me wrong. Kind of. But that's the whole point of the Cliqueless: to defeat the stereotypes. Overpower the status quo. Stick it to the man! If the social ladder counts as the man.
"Greetings, Earthlings. What might thy be consuming on this fine day?" I ask, leaning lazily on the school generator. I pull a sandwich out of my backpack, which I carry around with me all the time. I'm severely allergic to purses. Pikachu-shaped backpacks, on the other hand, are one of the few exceptions, though I prefer to stick with my Ol' Reliable, my classic weathered sling bag.
After swallowing a bite of my lunch, I remember a poster I saw today. "So," I say, "there's a dance coming up in a month, huh? Anyone gonna go to that?" I don't even try to hold back a snort at my own question. "Oh Lord. Dances? More of it, dresses? I don't do dresses. Or, ahem, dates. The Three Deadly D's." Before I could change my mind, the words tumbled out of my lips naturally. "Now that I think of it though, maybe a dance would be nice. Girl myself up a bit. Find a guy that likes me. Try that dangerous makeup stuff." There were a few seconds of silence before I continued. "Oh, I crack myself up!"