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Blitzed
Author: Lauren Landish





Part I

 

 

High School Seniors

 

 

Chapter 1

 

 

Whitney

 

 

Thank God the bad part of summer is over, I think to myself, adjusting my newly bought burgundy skirt around my hips as I step out of my 2005 Honda Civic— which had long ago worn out its welcome, along with its air conditioner. It gets me around town, though, so that works. The heat is so unbearable.

The summer had been blistering, the hottest on record, with days that reached temperatures of 105 degrees, and I spent most of the summer simply fighting to stay cool. Now, I’m happy to finally get some relief as summer lets go of its stranglehold on the Pacific Northwest a bit. Right now, it’s seventy degrees, and the cooler air feels great on my skin.

My limbs tremble slightly while I stand in front of my car door. My heart starts to race. It's my first day back at school, so I'm more than a little anxious, though I'm not sure why, since I've done this enough by now.

Get it together, girl, I tell myself. This is your last year here. You won't have to see most of these people ever again after you graduate. And the one or two you want to see, you’ll stay in touch with. You know that.

Taking a deep, calming breath, I check my appearance in the side view mirror before moving on. My hair and makeup look all right—light foundation, blush and a hint of eye shadow, and my locks are long and wavy, the way that I think it looks best. When I'm satisfied, I gather my books, shut the door of my Honda, lock it, and then make my way through the parking lot and onto the Silver Lake High campus.

A feeling of nostalgia rolls through me as I set foot on the grounds and I’m greeted by the familiar layout. It looks just like I remember, with beautiful paved walkways, meticulously groomed lawns, and exquisitely built structures. Deep red brick and glass lend a weight to the buildings, while the high-reaching steel and glass make it not too stuffy.

It's probably one of the best maintained High Schools in the state, I think, but too bad it's filled with a bunch of douches.

Despite my fondness for my high school, I’m glad it’s my last year. My four years of tenure have been filled with nothing but drama, and hopefully, I'll be moving on to bigger and better things once I sail off to college.

I will miss Silver Lake Falls, though. Silver Lake is a small, bustling town in the northwestern part of the country that has a booming economy, mainly due to the abundance of growth in its IT sector. Once a rich bedroom community, it is now becoming a place of economic power. In fewer than three years, the town's population had grown from ten thousand to well over twenty thousand before stabilizing and slowing down before growth exploded too much to take away the small town charm.

It’s an amazing town.

I like to think that after I graduate with a good degree, I'll come back home to Silver Lake Falls and live out my life here well into old age. After all, I love it here. Nothing can beat a small town community where everyone knows each other and everyone comes together, even if there is the small town gossip and pettiness to deal with. But I won't settle down until I see what the world has to offer. I’ve never been anywhere else, and I need at least a taste of the real world before deciding what I want.

I'm a bit early, as usual, and I see the other early birds milling about, some gathered around their favorite hangout spots, talking and goofing around. I see mostly familiar faces and a few new ones, but I'm surprised to see how much people are staring at me. Mainly guys. Hot guys. The type of guys that would never look at me twice.

Is there something wrong with my outfit? I wonder, pausing to look down at my skirt. I'd chosen the outfit before I left home because, one, it was new, and two, I thought I looked good in it. Not too slutty, but not too chaste. It makes my legs look long by riding the line on SLHS's dress code on skirt length, and the flare makes my waist look smaller than it is. I also have on a white blouse with a few pearl highlights, but it's nothing to get excited about.

After a moment, I continue on. I can't find anything wrong with my outfit, and I have no idea why I’m all of a sudden getting so much heat, but I swear one guy's head almost turns like the exorcist to keep his eyes on me as I walk by. If he'd snapped around any harder, I think he would have broken his neck. Actually, I remember him, and I think the world might be a better place if he does break his neck.

I ignore him and continue on my way through campus. I've almost made it to the building that contains my locker when I cross by The Fountain, a beautiful construction made of marble with an exquisitely crafted owl at the top that is surrounded by two of the main academic buildings and the cafeteria, completing a quad. The Fountain is Silver Lake High's most popular hangout spot and a place I often like to avoid because of the annoyance factor. I don't know why I'd walked right into it, but I suppose I hadn't been looking.

Not surprisingly, a group of jocks are crowded around The Fountain, laughing and telling stupid jokes. They're practically a pack of wolves, and more than once, I've compared them to what Mr. Cashion showed us in tenth grade science when he'd pulled out National Geographic videos. I try to sneak past them with my head down, hoping no one will notice me. Fat chance. All they have the mental capacity to do is crack jokes and notice people.

“God damn, Whitney!” A popular athlete named Cory Dunham exclaims as I walk by. Cory is one of the more competent ballers on the school's football team and is also one of the biggest manwhores on the planet. If you have a pulse and a vagina, he would come sniffing around at some point, I'm sure. “What have you been eating? You got thick as hell!”

“Fuck yeah,” says Gabe Hackman, another douche jock who was just as much of a manwhore, biting his lip as if he's looking at a quarter pounder with cheese. “She's got an ass fatter than Kim Kardashian now. The good type, too.”

I blush furiously, not sure how to respond. In a way, I feel insulted to be compared to a Kardashian, and in another, I’m flattered. But I can't figure out the sudden interest in me. None of these guys ever noticed me before, outside of insulting my appearance, and now, they’re practically drooling over me? Something must be in the air.

Instead of engaging them, I continue on, ignoring their catcalls.

“Hey!” Cory yells, waving with his arms. “Get your sexy ass back here!”

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