I stand up at the podium, my heart racing. Everyone is watching me, wondering why the leading sophomore columnist, the popular girl, is waiting up here now, in front of the whole school, to resign.

Why would she do that? Doesn't she know that this could—and probably will— ruin her high school career? Who in their right mind would willingly give up a top position for a silly whim, or for a person they only met a month ago?

I don't know, either. I might be insane. I might be making a terrible decision, one that will change my life forever. Correction: I know I am making a decision that will change my life forever. The question is if it is the right choice.

"Saige, are you going to speak?" Mr. Hanson grumbles behind me. He's not too happy about me leaving the newspaper, and somewhere deep inside of me, I know he can stop me by force if he truly wants to. He has to put on a mask for the rest of the school, but that mask can come off at any time. "There's always time to back out," he continues slowly. My eyes narrow. "You can keep your position if you just step down and renounce your foolish claims against the school."

Without even turning around, I know that the principle is smiling now. He knows that I can't do this. The offer is just too tempting, to just say yes and to get rid of all this pressure on me. I could just go back to my normal life. I'll stay as the head columnist and forget about God and Beckett and let Elliott di—I can't do that.

I swallow deeply and stare out into the audience again. Emma's eyes catch mine and neither of us look away for a few excruciatingly long seconds. She won't ever talk to me again after this. Finally, she turns away and begins whispering to Jessica, one of her "friends," acting as if she never saw me. Ouch.

Mr. Hanson coughs loudly behind me, and I nod. I'm ready, whether he likes it or not.

"I am standing here now, in front of the whole school board and student body, ready to tell the truth. I will tell the whole truth, even if you will not accept it. And you may not like what I will tell you, but it is true."

***

Everyone knows that a gossip columnist's worst enemy is the truth. So it's not very hard to lie to my mom about going to Emma's house for a party. It's a Friday, school's out for the weekend, and we are sophomores now, after all. The least we can do it celebrate a little. My mom wouldn't understand, though. There's no way that I could get her OK on a party at Emma's, especially a boy-girl party.

"Mom, can't you see?" I plead, lying through my teeth at her. "Mrs. St. Paul set up a study group at the library and I have to go tonight." I look to her for any response. There is none, and that's a bad thing, right? Determined to keep trying, I pull my latest geometry test from my backpack. A big, red, "C" decorates the top. I've always been a good student, but if you've met my mother, you would know. Anything less than a B+ is basically failing.

"Okay, you can go," she sighs reluctantly. "As long as you can bring this grade up soon. Maybe Mrs. St. Paul will be able to help you with geometry?" she adds reluctantly. I mimic her seriousness with a nod like the good daughter I am before rushing into my room to text Emma. Or— excuse me— gather my schoolbooks to go the library.

I hastily turn on my smartphone and turn off the volume. You have to think of everything if you want to sneak something by my mother. Don't get me wrong; she's a great lady. Just...cautious. My phone vibrates, and as I open Messages I see that a text just came in from Emma.

any luck?

yeah. just told mom that i gtg to "library"

ahhhh

actually do kinda need help tho

math?

yup. be right over :)

I smile and flick the power button on my purple phone again. I lost my charger a few days ago and have to use Mom's whenever my phone runs low on battery. Hopefully I can charge up my cell at Emma's, but until then, I'll try to save as much power as possible. I grab my geometry textbook and my favorite clutch for good measure and head out the door.

"Bye, Mom. I'll be back at 9:30," I call from the front door of my house. And with that, I'm free.

The walk to Emma's house only takes about ten minutes, but her house is as different from mine as a mansion is from a tiny apartment. I wouldn't even call my home an apartment. That's just a fancy word for "cramped living space that forces me to sleep on the couch when my older sister visits from college." Other than that, though, I don't mind living in a small place. At least I don't have to share a room with my train-loving five year old brother Elliot.

Emma's literal mansion of a house comes into view as I cross the street that divides the "consumer" part of the city from the "domestic" areas. More than ten bikes litter the front lawn as I walk up to the main entryway. There are no cars in the garage or the driveway, though. Obviously my best friend planned this to be on an evening when neither of her parents were around. Smart.

The said best friend swings open the large white door. Her short red pixie cut has light orange highlights in it, and she is wearing a stylish blue denim shirt and leggings. In comparison, my aztec print leggings and maroon crop top don't look as "on point" as I thought they would. "Hey Saige! We've been waiting for you. As I always say, the party doesn't start until the host's best friend is there," she chirps, leading me down the long stairway to her basement. I laugh. Em has never once said that in her life, but it's a cute quote anyway. Muddy shoes are scattered up and down the stairs from people who have swapped them for more practical flats for dancing. I wish I had thought of that beforehand, but I'll just dance in my socks if I really need to.

"How many people exactly did you invite?" I ask warily, suddenly curious from the large number of tennis shoes and boots that cover the stairway.

Emma shrugs, her red hair bouncing around her ears. She waves her hand in the air nonchalantly as she talks. "Oh, about ten or twenty classmates. A lot of people couldn't come anyway." I nod. That sounds about right, for a party of Emma's where a good portion of the guests probably had to lie their way of their houses earlier today. Grinning, my best friend leads me into the loud basement. "There are some really neat people I want you to meet!"

Several girls and boys that I know wave or call after me as I stumble by. The stumbling is courtesy of Emma, who is dragging me towards a small group of girls wearing miniskirts and leather flats. Somehow the scene reminds me of something you could find on the inside cover of a teen magazine, but I don't say that out loud.

She leads me straight into the clique's little circle before introducing me. "Girls," Emma says proudly. "Meet my best friend Saige Erikson. You may know her from before, but her and I go way back." She nods at me like she needs confirmation that yes, we did meet in kindergarten, but no, we weren't best friends from the start.

"Hey," I smile confidently. I'm not sure what my popular best friend is trying to make me do, but these girls obviously know that I'm on the top— or at least close to it— at school.

The two in miniskirts are eyeing my outfit and hairstyle, and I wait to see what they're going to say. They won't say anything bad about it, even though it is definitely not the best outfit in my closet, but I doubt that either of them will have the guts to say anything good about my leggings and crop top either. Being the ever - so - polite - guest, though, and noticing that my host isn't going to introduce me because we're all pretty sure these girls know who Emma and I are, I decide to "take initiative" and greet them. (Whatever that means. It's from a "Peer Support Leaders Group for Teens" that my parents had me take over the summer. They had pretty good snacks— hello, doughnuts! —but other than that, it was pretty lame.) Take that, popular mean girl stereotypes! 

I chat my way through the rest of the party before leaving at 9:20-- thanks to the very annoying alarm Mom made me set on my phone. I had to pretend it was someone calling me and then make up some overused excuse about why I had to leave so soon. Emma waves good-bye to me as I walk back to my house, tired of small talk but glad that I went. 

Hey readers! I know that this chapter isn't the most exciting-- okay, it's not that exciting at all-- but bear with me because the other main character will be introduced soon! Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated :) Also, check out thesavannahguenzi 's story Loving an Immortal!