ˢᵖᵒʳᵃᵈⁱᶜ

✧˚.🎀༘⋆

[ grades ]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.

Placing the hairbrush down on the vanity, you stood up with a smile, stepping into your walk-in closet. You sat at your desk where the large blocky computer was, opening up 'Y/N's Wardrobe' system. You hit the browse button, where a cute, cropped blazer appeared, with a black pleated skirt below it formed. You pressed the 'Dress Me' button, but the computer beeped loudly, and you bit your lip with a scowl at the rude banner, 'Mis-Match!'

You re-did the matching again, and you nodded your head in victory at the choice. You had made the very stylish decision to where a short maroon jumper with fur lining, a mini black skirt, platform black heels, a beret, and some usual accessories, as well as your Prada purse.

Daddy's a neurosurgeon. That's like, the highest paying type of surgeon. And daddy is so good, he gets paid $400 an hour to look at someone's brain. Which is way gross. 

He checks and stabilizes my mental health for free cause I'm his daughter.

"Daddy!" you called with a grin.

"Y/N, please, don't start with the juice again," he sighed. 

You see, my daddy may be in the medical field, but for a doctor, his health is totes going downhill.

"Daddy, you need your Vitamin C," you reasoned. 

"Where's my briefcase?" he asked, ignoring your valid argument.

"It's been a couple months now, so I said we'd go out to Malibu."

"Don't tell me those braindead lowlifes have been calling again?"

"They are your parents." You handed him his keys. "Don't try sneaking out of the office."

"Oh, we're going to the Horowitz' for dinner," he stated, turning back to you.

An excited grin pulled at your lips. "Yay! - Wait. It's just Cher and her father, right?" He didn't answer right away, and you whined, "Daddy!"

"Y/N, you have to get over this feud with Dean."

"Nooooooo," you drew the word out whilst stomping your foot like a child.

"Honey, I don't see the problem. He's a respectable young man. Good grades, bright future."

"Well, I don't see the appeal," you huffed. "Here." 

You handed him the juice and he snapped, "Forget it."

Did I show you the super cute Ferrari 360 Daddy got me? It's pink!

I got my license last week, and I'm like, really good at driving.

You barely dodged the planter of Mrs. Pepper's house, grimacing before turning back. 

Here's where Dionne lives. She's my best friend because we both know what it's like to have people jealous of us.

"Y/N!" she yelled, running down the steps. 

"Girlfriend!" you called back with a grin.

And I must give her snaps for her courageous fashion efforts. 

"Hey, Y/N." She hopped inside, and the pair of you did your little handshake before flicking your hair over your shoulders. "So?"

You looked at her, finding her displaying her hat. "Been shopping with Dr. Seuss?" you asked teasingly. 

"Well, at least I wouldn't skin a bear to line a jacket," she countered, patting the fur lining of your clothing.

"It's faux."

"Hello! That was a stop sign!" she exclaimed, looking at you with a dropped jaw.

"I totally paused."

"Oh my God. Yeah, okay," she snickered. You drove for about two minutes before coming to a stop outside a luxurious white house. 

That's our other best friend, Cher. She's friends with us because we all know what it's like to never experience a bad hair day. 

"Hey, guys!" she waved, and you and Dionne reciprocated the action. 

"Oh, don't look now, Y/N," your friend whispered, and you allowed your gaze to move past Cher, to find an older boy trailing behind her. You groaned, shutting your eyes. Dean Horowitz.

Okay, so I'm like a total angel and all, but my goodness, does Dean Horowitz get on my nerves. He makes me want to slap him and not apologize. I know, so cruel, but I just HATE HIM!

"Looking nice, girls," he greeted.

"Thanks, Dean," Dionne smiled and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head. 

The boy smirked, leaning down and looking at you through the open window. "Yes?" you questioned with a huff escaping your glossed lips.

"Just admiring the view," he shrugged, before walking off to his car. You blinked, feeling an unfamiliar burning at your cheeks as Cher and Dionne both practically convulsed with shock. 

"I know I've been saying this for like, three years, but he totally likes you!" Cher exclaimed. 

"It's so obvious!" Dionne added. 

You scoffed, "Totes unlikely. And besides, I have standards. And he does not meet the requirement." The two girls giggled mischievously as you started the car again, driving to school.

"It's not even 8:30, and Murray is paging me," Dionne groaned. 

"He is so possessive," you said, Cher nodding her head in agreement.

"Ugh, tell me about it. This weekend he called me up, and he's all 'Where were you today?'. I'm like, 'I'm at my grandmother's..."

Dionne and her boyfriend Murray are in this dramatic relationship. I think they've seen that Ike and Tina Turner movie just too many times. Now, I have to say to her...

"D, why do you put up with him? You could do so much better."

"I know. Shh. Here he comes."

You raised your eyebrows as Murray, with his low hung jeans and obviously fake gold chain sauntered up to you and the girls. "Woman, why don't you be answering any of my pages?" he questioned immediately, not even greeting his girlfriend.

"I hate when you call me 'woman'," she huffed. 

"Where you been all weekend? What's up, you been jeepin' behind my back?"

"Jeepin'?" she repeated, looking at you as you and Cher shared a smirk. 

"Jeepin'."

"No! But speaking of vehicular sex, perhaps you can explain how this cheap Kmart hair extension got into the back seat of your car." Your mouth dropped when she pulled out the strand of fake hair from her purse. 

"I don't know where that came from. That looks like one of your stringy something or another's up in your hair," he said, holding up one of her own braids. 

"I do not wear polyester hair, okay? Unlike some people I know like Shawanna!"

"D, I'm outtie!" you bid, Cher sending you a smile and wave. 

"Bye." She turned back to Murray. "That's it. I've had it with you!"

"Is it that time of the month again?"

I don't know why Dionne's going out with a high school boy. They're like dogs. You have to clean them and feed them. They're just like these nervous creatures that jump and slobber all over you.

A boy with a green hoodie suddenly sidled up next to you, wrapping an arm around you shoulder. "Ew! Get off of me!" you hissed, and shoved him away, sending the boy sprawling. "Ugh, as if!"

"Should all oppressed people be allowed refuge in America? Amber will take the con position. Cher will be pro. Cher, two minutes." 

"So, okay, like, right now, for example, the Haiti-ans need to come to America. But some people are all "What about the strain on our resources?'. But it's like, when I had this garden party for my father's birthday, right? I said RSVP because it was a sit-down dinner. But people came that, like, did not RSVP, so I was like totally buggin'. I had to haul ass to the kitchen, redistribute the food, squish in extra place settings. But by the end of the day, it was like, the more the merrier. And so, if the government could just get to the kitchen, rearrange some things, we could certainly party with the Haiti-ans. And in conclusion, may I remind you that it does not say RSVP on the Statue of Liberty."

"WHOO! YEAH!" the class cheered, and you grinned, clapping for your best friend. 

"Amazing!" you applauded. 

"Thank you very much."

Mr. Hall looked at a loss of words, but mumbled out, "Uh, Amber, reply?"

"Mr. Hall, how can I answer that? The topic is Haiti, and she's talking about some little party."

"Hello? It was his 50th birthday," you defended, and Cher nodded. 

"And how would you know?" Amber probed.

"Uh, because I co-hosted," you responded with a glare.

She held up her fingers, which constructed a makeshift 'W'. "Whatever. If she doesn't do the assignment, I can't do mine."

"Ladies." The two girls sat down, and as Cher sat in front of you, the pair of you clapped hands, linking pinkies and making a little zapping noise. "So, does anyone have any further thoughts on Cher's oration? Elton, comments?"

"Yeah, I can't find my Cranberries CD. I got to go to the quad before somebody snags it," he replied. 

"I'm afraid I can't permit that. Any further insights?"

A hand was raised, and you rolled your eyes as an amused smirk rose to your face. This'll be good, you thought to yourself. "I have an insight, Mr. Hall," Travis stated.

"I'm all ears."

The boy got up, crouching on his chair, facing everyone as he was sitting at the front. "Okay, like, the way I feel about the Rolling Stones is the way my kids are gonna feel about Nine Inch Nails. So, I really shouldn't torment my Mum anymore, huh?"

"Yes. Well, it's a little off the subject of Haiti, but, uh, tolerance is always a good lesson."

"Thank you."

"Even when it comes out of nowhere. And with that in mind, I'm going to distribute your report cards." The class groaned at this. "Now, is there a Christian Stovitz in this class?"

You raised your hand, speaking, "Mr. Hall, the buzz on Christian is that his parents have joint custody. So, he'll be spending one semester in Chicago, and one semester here."

"I think it is a travesty on the part of the legal profession," Cher finished.

"Thank you for that perspective, Cher. And thank you for the information, Y/N." You grinned, and felt hands ghost over your shoulders, before kneading into the tense muscles. You instantly knew them to be Elton, but it was so often that he did these displays of affection that you didn't read too much into them. "Now, could all conversations please come to a halt?" You watched with wide eyed as Travis began to whimper, before he stood up and jumped onto the cabinet, lifting the window and sticking his head out. "And could the suicide attempts please be postponed till next period?"

Amber handed the batch to Cher, who handed the rest to you. You did the same action to Elton before looking at your grade. "An A-?" Cher whipped around and you flinched at the action. She was mumbling incoherent words and you placed a hand on her arm. "Cher?"

"I got a C."

You gasped, "Oh, my God. Are you okay?" The bell rang and the two of you sprouted up, linking arms and walking out of class. You held your cell to your ear, and Cher leaned in close. Your temples were smashed together as you called Dionne. "D?"

"Sup," she said through the line.

"Did you get your report card?"

"Yeah, I'm toast. How'd you do?"

"A-, but that's not important."

"Wait, Y/N/N, congrats, babes."

"Aww, thanks," you gushed, and Cher rapidly tapped your arm. You sighed, continuing, "But Cher totally choked."

"My father's going to go ballistic on me," the blonde remarked. 

"Mr. Hall was way harsh." She suddenly appeared next to you, but you three continued your conversation through the phone."He gave me a C-minus."

You and Dionne turned the phones off as Cher sighed, "Well, he gave me a C, which drags down my entire average."

"Bye," she said, walking into the classroom. 

"I'll call you."