The Ketchup Fiasco
“Holy broccoli! I think they are coming,” somebody squeaked.
The sudden information caused a chaos in the cafeteria. Every girl began adjusting her dress. Some were doing their makeup; others were applying mascara over their eyes. And a few eyes were settled on the entrance of the cafeteria, eagerness dancing in them.
“You better stay away from Evan. He’s mine,” a blonde girl warned another Blondie.
“Oh please! I am, anyway, after Chase,” blondie two replied.
“Hey, do you think Trystan will finally notice me?” another brunette asked, joining the conversation.
Jenny and I took deep sighs, observing the drama from our seats.
This thing has always stroked me about the high school. A place where you are judged on your appearance, where the drama will fill your head with anxiety, and where you will get in fights and learn painful lessons.
There is a reason I never fit here. I adore freedom and high school only knows bounding people with the trends of everyday. And I refuse to be bound.
“Seriously? They are acting as if Channing Tatum is visiting Westport High,” Jenny said, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Can I smash their faces?” I asked, rubbing my knuckles.
“As much as I hate violence, if it shuts their stupid mouth, then yes you can,” she replied with a grin.
I gave a high five to my best friend, as a grin tugged on my lips too.
Jenny and I had been best friends since our mom first left us alone at the day care center. A little boy was teasing her and pulling her pigtail. So, I went there and bit his hand. Since then we had always been there for each other, no matter what.
Curious is the word that perfectly delineates her. She has a world canopied with books, be it a course book or a novel. Jenny is an encyclopedia with facts about everything, and has been single since the day she landed on earth. Although, no one can deny the fact that behind those rimmed glasses and baggy clothes, is a beautiful doe-eyed brunette who can make any guy fall for her.
“Hey, where’s Gabby?” I asked, searching around for another of my best friend.
Gabby A.K.A Gabriella has been in our group since she first joined our school in seventh grade. With liquid blue eyes, long blonde locks, and a perfectly curved body, she is an eye candy for every guy.
I still remember how me and Jenny never wanted her to join our little group of two. She followed us everywhere for two weeks. To the cafeteria, classes and even to the lavatory, stopping only when we finally accepted her to be our friend.
I mean, you cannot deny being friends with a girl who opens the door of the lavatory at the moment you are about to pee, and refuses to close it until you befriend her.
Got the point?
But I’m glad we did so, because you rarely get lucky enough to meet people like her.
And now, we three are inseparable.
“There,” Jenny said, pointing behind my back.
I turned around, only to see the much awaited trio walking in the cafeteria.
Actually, Evan and Trystan were walking while Chase was running around, trying to get out of Gabriella’s grip.
Uh-oh! Did I tell you Gabby has this HUGE crush on Chase?
“Here begins the PDA,” I scrunched my nose as soon as Britney, the queen bee, placed her sloppy lips on Trystan, who happily returned the kiss.
“Look at them, they are so gross,” Jenny said, staring at Evan. He was giving one of the cheerleaders a cheesy smile.
And Chase was still running.
Let me introduce you to the three so-called suave men of Westport High.
Evan Henderson is the heartthrob. His sandy brown hairs and hazel eyes make every girl swoon. And the fact that he gets dimples is a cherry on the top. To be frank, out of the three he is the one I despise the least.
Then comes Chase Lockhart. The player. He has deep green eyes and brown hairs. And, a body worth drooling over. I guess that’s the reason he has a new girl under his arm every week. He just knows to sleep with girls. Dating doesn’t exist in his dictionary.
And lastly, Trystan Ryder. He is the hottest of the three. With dark brown hairs and chocolate brown eyes, he can make any girl wobble. Well, except for me.
Girls love him for everything he does. The way he smiles, the way he runs his hand through his hairs, or the way his eyes shine when he is in one of those happy moods. But the guy only believes in one-night stands, love has no meaning to him.
And that is why I hate him so much. Such a ducktard!
Talking about me, I am Samantha Harris. I am a brunette with brown eyes, yet in my senior year. I hate cussing and Trystan Ryder. And if you think I am a typical nerd then let me tell you I have a GPA of 2.7.
I know it sucks.
So, all in all, I am just a seventeen year old who prefers spending her Saturday nights watching Batman series, rather than attending a stupid high school party.
“Guys, he ran away!” Gabriella exclaimed, and sank on the chair beside me.
“And now he is eating someone’s mouth,” Jenny said, pointing at Chase, who was now kissing one of the girls from the cheerleading squad.
“Gross! Why can’t these girls stay away from him?” Gabby whined.
“C’mon Gabby, you can do much better. He is so not your type,” I said, rolling my eyes at her.
“Also, according to the research, most of the gentlemen prefer blonde girls over brunettes. So, you actually have a great scope,” Jenny grinned, earning a glare from me and Gabby.
“You know what?” Gabby smirked, picking up a bottle of ketchup from the table, “I can actually do so much better than crying over it.”
With that she threw the ketchup bottle at the girl Chase was kissing.
But, of course, Gabby can never do anything right and so the ketchup, instead of landing on the girl, landed on someone beside her.
The guy had his back facing us. So, when he turned around while rubbing his head, we three gasped looking at him.
“Shit!” Gabby and Jenny cursed at the same time I said, “Pit!”
Told you, I hate cussing.
“Who the f*ck was that?” Trystan yelled, looking around for the culprit, still rubbing his head.
Ouch! I guess it was a hard hit.
“Excuse me? You don’t have to curse. It’s just a ketchup after all,” I glared at him, and soon regretted as his eyes, filled with anger, landed on me.
“So was it you?” he asked, walking towards me.
“Uh h-hey Trystan,” Jenny stuttered, slowly pulling me with her.
“Whoa! That was a real throw,” Evan stated with amusement. That is when I noticed that our little stunt has diverted everyone’s attention towards us.
“Gee! thanks,” Gabby grinned.
“S-She means she has no clue what you are talking about,” Jenny said, giving a glare to Gabby.
This girl is so gonna be a death of us, someday.
“Dude I don’t care what she means,” Trystan said, still looking at me, “You better apologize for this.”
“And what makes you think I am gonna apologize to YOU?” I emphasized the last word.
“Feisty eh,” Chase whistled from behind. But my eyes were fixed on Trystan’s glaring ones.
“I am feisty too, Chasy mazy,” Gabby smiled, blinking her eyes flirtatiously. I heard him snorting, in response.
“I like feisty,” Trystan whispered, leaning closer to me.
I hate it when guys do that. Why do they think that leaning closer to the other person will make them look more intimidating? I don’t think it works.
“You better step back before I cause a threat to your family jewels,” I glared at him.
“Oh! I’m so scared,” he said, trapping me between his hands and the table.
There was a shuffling sound behind me as if he was picking up something, but I ignored it and shouted-
“I SWEAR IF Y-” my words died in the pit of my stomach as I felt a sticky liquid being poured on my head.
Jenny and Gabby gasped beside me.
“What the hell?” I gaped, touching my hair, “You poured ketchup on me?”
“That’s what happens when you refuse to apologize, sunshine,” Trystan whispered in my ear, and then walked out of the cafeteria normally, as if he never poured anything on me.
While I was still standing there, along with the laughing crowd of students, including mine and Trystan’s friends.
“Now that was a show,” Chase said, laughing hard. Evan mouthed me a quick ‘sorry’, before pulling Chase and moving out too.
It took everything in me to not go after Trystan and smack him hard on his face.
Instead, I screamed at the top of my voice, “I HATE YOU, TRYSTAN RYDER!”