Ataraxia (noun)

- a state of freedom from emotional disturbance and anxiety; tranquillity.

~*~

Have you ever felt like your life was being controlled by some random person who was playing The Sims? Or perhaps you felt like you were a character in an Episode Interactive story, with no true decision in how your life played out. Well, that was how I felt every single day of my life. The same things happened every single day and honestly, it was getting a bit annoying. How many times did I have to go through the same thing? I mean, even after I'd learnt my listen, did I really have to experience the same thing, only paraphrased? It was annoying.

The person who was controlling me must've been into some cliché bullshit. I despised that there was such a thing as stereotypes – if there wasn't, I wouldn't automatically be classified as the mean girl after one look. Okay, I get it, blue eyes, blonde hair, big deal. Not every blonde was a bitchy cheerleader named Brittany.

I absolutely abhorred the fact that people categorized other people. At school, students weren't permitted to sit anywhere they wanted. It was imperative that they sit with members from their own clique. I didn't even believe cliques still existed but high school proved me wrong. Although, not everybody knew the deep, dark secrets that were buried under Lakeside High. I doubted anyone would care. But I knew the truth, everyone did. It was just something they refused to acknowledge, tried to forget.

We'd never, ever gotten a new student before, which saved us the effort of having to explain the Lakeside rules. All of us had been here since the very beginning, moving over from middle school. Everybody knew the next person's business. Lakeside was a tiny town in California, a mere dot on the map. People who were born here, died here. It was probably the reason Principal Rooney could get away with her clique rule. Outsiders didn't question it, and natives knew the truth.

She thought she'd be doing the students a favour, seeking to eradicate bullying by placing students with the same interests into cliques. Segregation seemed to be the answer. However, with separate groups came hierarchies. There were students at school who were considered better than everyone else, they were considered the superiors. I snarled as I stared out of the window at the passing scenery, remembering that I was one of those people.

"Can you stop fucking growling?" The voice of my brother lectured me, clenching his grip on the steering wheel and sparing me a quick glance. The scowl on his face was a natural thing, one of the only facial expressions he ever used. I looked up at him through the rear-view mirror, icy blue eyes narrowing. He rolled his eyes at the look on my face. "Down, Charlie. Down."

I jeered, kicking the back of his seat which prompted a protest from him just as the car came to a standstill in the school's parking lot. "Shut up, Chris. I'm not a dog."

Swiftly the rear-view mirror was directed towards the passenger seat and I was faced with another pair of icy eyes (belonging to my other brother) which narrowed as well, imitating my prior action. "Then stop fucking growling like one."

Unfastening my seat belt, I hastened towards the edge of the seat and struck his arm – not that it even hurt him in the slightest bit. I mean, he was the captain of the soccer team. "If anyone's the dog here it's you, Caleb."

Rolling his eyes, he hopped out of the car, Christian following and then finally me. It was the precise order in which we entered the world, only separated by a few minutes each. As usual, we caught attention as we entered Lakeside High. Once again, I felt like a sim. Everything was way too verbose. The same thing happened every morning single morning.

I was sure a lot of people felt like that, feeling as if something was not quite right. I hated that everybody was so segregated, instead of being permitted to do what they wanted and hang out with who they wanted to. I hated that the way you looked or your level of intelligence played a huge role in which clique you were going to be grouped in. It was enraging. But of course, nothing could be done about it, not since what happened in freshman year. Not even parents could argue against it, because they'd agreed it was best.

What never made sense to me, was that outside school, we could hang out with who we wanted, do what we wanted to. It only further highlighted the fact that Principal Rooney didn't truly care about the problem bullying posed. She only cared about her reputation, one that had taken quite the hit during freshman year. The clique rule was a quick fix. Her reputation was preserved and she was known as a remarkable figure who fought against bullying. As if. The only thing she did was sweep problems under the rug.

Everybody's eyes were on us as I took the lead, my brothers following on either side. The James Triplets: a trio every single student knew of.

Caleb James: eldest sibling and captain of the soccer team. His position was attacking midfielder and the red number 10 jersey stuck to his muscular chest as he strolled alongside us. His blonde curls were tousled atop his head and his icy eyes stared forward, not sparing anyone a glimpse. Unlike most captains in movies or books, Caleb didn't fuck around. He was devoted to his position and was looking to follow in the footsteps of our dad, Gregory James – a celebrated soccer player in our town.

Christian James: most probably the stoniest person you'd ever come across. It was like the guy just clicked Ctrl Alt Delete emotions. Caleb and Chris were practically indistinguishable, even dressing the same on occasion just to piss people and teachers off. There was literally no psychical contrasts between the two and the only way people could tell the difference between them was if Caleb smiled. Chris, well, he didn't do the whole smiling thing. Another way you could tell the difference was by the long-sleeved black jersey he donned which read number 1, implying his position as the goalie on the team.

And last but definitely the least was me, Charlotte James, or as everyone called me – Charlie. Everybody saw me as the airheaded cheerleader who just went along with what everyone else said, too incompetent to even come up with ideas on her own. Who could blame them though? That was how we were written in many books and portrayed in movies. I was the mean girl who bullied nerds and slept with the teachers to maintain her grades – not. I didn't do any of those things but it wasn't like anybody cared. They just assumed the worst of any cheerleader. A short girl with glasses glared at me as we passed her and I grimaced. I didn't even know her yet she was pulling faces at me.

"Stop growling, Charlie," Caleb rustled as we stood at my locker and I started taking out my required books for the first period. Christian stood on the other side of me, scowling at anything that moved. A normal occurrence.

I shut my locker, turning to face my eldest brother. "Fine." I was sure that he hardly even noticed the various stares we getting as he was already used to it. But for me, I would never get used to it. Being a popular kid sucked balls, always having to function a certain way or else you'd be judged. What started out as a way to heal turned into a fucking competition. And we had one fucking person to blame for that shit.


Caleb nodded in consideration and beamed down at me, unaware of the many girls that were staring at him. His eyes shimmered and I already knew what he was going to talk about. Caleb just had this look in his eyes whenever he spoke about something he was passionate about. "I'm heading to the field, alright. Might as well get an hour of practice in." He raised a hand and pushed against my forehead, sniggering before he vanished down the hall, people watching as he left.

"Asshole," I mumbled, rubbing my head gently. Shifting to my left, I located Christian still standing there with his typical unfriendly expression. "You not gonna join him?"

"Nah," he drawled out, running his lip across his bottom lip as he stared ahead. "We're already staying after school for practice. I'll get my fix in then." Slowly, we began walking towards our classes, however, I knew that he was going to stray off, presumably to go and sleep in an unoccupied classroom. "You stay out of trouble, okay?" Before I could even respond, his tall frame had disappeared.

And I was abandoned once again, disregarding the gazes pinned on me as I wandered down the hallway. Some girls smiled at me and I lost count of the times they bought me gifts just to be my friend. I didn't ask for the popularity. Being human was normal.

I know that I said that I disliked stereotypes, but I was going to have to use them for my following statement. As much as the band geeks, the theatre kids, the nerds, the loners, the punks and the rebels hated the jocks – they gave us our status. They put us on a pedestal. Back when I first started high school, everybody was free to do what they wanted and hang out with who they wanted to.

Then everything changed. Disaster hit Lakeside High and nothing would be the same. And then those students gave the jocks their popularity. So why hate on us all of a sudden? Why hate on me? As far as I could remember, I was never mean to anybody or even tyrannized someone. The only thing I was blameworthy of was being a blue-eyed cheerleader and I had no idea that it would cause me to be judged constantly.

But I didn't care. Because my life wouldn't be mine if I constantly cared about what other people thought. This then contradicted my earlier statement, of me being a sim. My life couldn't be mine if someone was controlling me. I sighed as I entered my homeroom, praying that my simmer at least had some sense to keep me out of trouble.

Boy was I wrong.