“Iced Matcha Latte for Gen,” Sarah calls.
I didn’t even know what Matcha was. I just googled it while waiting for my drink, but I felt like I needed a change. I’m not the Caramel Macchiato Genevieve anymore. It’s weird to say, but it’s true.
Crushed tea leaves.
The color puts me off, but I’ll try it. I’ve already invested $4.50 into the new me.
And Sarah didn’t even add a demeaning nickname to my cup. Progress?
I think she moved onto a new victim to torment. I don’t have any fight left in me.
I sip the drink slowly, and it’s pleasantly sweet. A little green tasting… don’t ask. It tastes like nature, but not in a gross way. Starting up the car, I head into the city.
Approaching the office building that I had a key to just a few months ago, I sigh. I hate awkward interactions, but it’s time. I buzz the gate, stating my name. I was skeptical about if they would remember me, but the guard let me right in.
I park in my usual
How many rational excuses can I use to get out of this meeting?"Dad, I'm so sorry, but I actually planned to hang out with my friend Claire," I lie."Nice try," he says sternly.Drake purses his lips in amusement, probably thinking about how juvenile this all is."You know where to meet me," he says before hanging up quickly after."Shit," I mutter after the dial tone."You okay?" he asks, with no sign of sarcasm or plain disinterest."Yeah, I'll be fine," I clasp my hands, shutting myself off emotionally. Before turning to leave, I stutter, "I-I'll think about the yearlong internship."He
July "N-No," I slur, "I'm sooo drunk." The music's blasting at Josh Miller's house party, and I've had 6 too many shots. To teachers, my parents, and adults in general, I'm the perfect kid. I make good grades, I play a sport, and I help people at my many service trips. Nobody would expect me to be blackout drunk, literally swimming in a pool of liquor, as Kendrick Lamar says. My boyfriend disappeared... I don't know, a few hours ago? And I may or may not have experimented with the colorful liquors. I smile to myself. The room is spinning. I cannot return home like this. Good thing I told my parents I'd be at a friend's house. My boy-friend, I laugh out loud. I'm sure I look crazy, but that was funny... you know, the "boy" before "friend". Haha. "Gen, come on," a stern voice says. Buzz kill. Who am I kidding? Nothing could kill my buzz right now. The voice lifts me over his shoulder and soon I'm being plopped on
I wake up to dozens of dings, pings, and whatever other sounds my phone decided to make.All of the sudden, people are extra talkative. So what, a titty pic got let out? Isn't it kind of normalized nowadays?It's not even mine.After last night's revelations, Cas and Sophie tried to reply to clarenton secrets's post, basically saying that I don't have a piercing, so it's not me. Sadly, nobody would listen. A few people stuck up for me, but most either didn't believe it, or didn't want to.I'm contemplating shutting down all my social media and taking a break--the shit's toxic.Who the hell runs clarenton secrets, you ask?Well, here's the answer: we're all asking, too.It could be one vindictive bitch or a group of bitches. Either way, they're some bitches for posting child pornography, among other things.I remember when Katy Schmitt's therapist's notes got leaked. How they managed that, I have no clue. That scandal led to one
The guy, who looks like my boyfriend from a distance, but like a fool up close, is Aaron.He told me he was “busy.”His head is practically touching the table to avoid my line of vision. Sadly, that doesn’t help, as his friends move out of the way when I call his name.I’m not playing the clingy, jealous, loud girlfriend today. First of all, I’m laying low. Second of all, Sarah could just use my weakness to her advantage.My friends are looking to me. Cas especially is waiting for a crazy reaction, but I won’t give one.
We find LeAnn and Sophie at a pretzel shop, and I relax. Food is something we can all agree on… mostly. It only gets weird when LeAnn tries to say that mustard is good on fish. No, just no. “Yes, food,” Cas sighs. “Oh, we’re just getting drinks,” Sophie points at their cups. I can see the disappointment on Cas’s face. “Well, I want food,” she points to herself, “and Gen wants food, so you guys can go on and just text us where you’ll be.” Casandra can switch from my role model to my child in seconds. Food waits on no one. We agree to share a pizza, sa
“Last night was amazing,” Aaron texts. Ehh, it sufficed. I reply with a red heart… I don’t know if I have the right words right now. I have my first day of orientation for my volunteer work at Marie’s Soups in Manhattan. It’s a nonprofit organization that feeds New York’s homeless population. They have locations all over the state. It looks good on college applications, but in general, I like helping people get the bare minimum that they require. Everyone should be able to live comfortably. It’s always baffled me how we have enough resources in the world to feed everyone, yet millions of people are left starving. I blame bil
“Jason, go away,” Claire yells ahead of us. “No, you go away,” he barks back. “My brother,” she whispers back at me. “Oh,” I nod. He stops in his tracks, turning around once he heard a second set of footsteps. “No,” Claire asserts. “No, no, no.” My expression morphs into bewilderment because of her outburst. She shares a knowing expression with Jason. Stabbing her index finger at him, she continues, “No. Go to your room. Please.” “Wait,” he smirks, “I want to know the name of this lovely lady you’ve brought home.” I grimace at his boldness. Some things don’t need to be said. Claire rolls her eyes in annoyance. “Gen, Jason,” she points between us, “Jason, Gen.” Sighing, she says, “Okay, you’ve met. Now, go away.” He smiles coyly, then throws his hands up in defeat. I can tell he’s annoying, but that’s how big brothers are. What’s the real reason she doesn’t want me to meet him? We
“Genny,” she hums in a singsong tone. “Hmm?” I ask impatiently. She should remember from all the other times: I hate taking care of drunk people. Of course, I’d do it every time for a friend. I don’t want her to get hurt because then it’ll be on me. When she’s in this state, I’m responsible for her. I only hate it because it hurts to see her like this. She doesn’t look like she’s having fun. Sophie can’t have fun when it comes to alcohol. She binges, and she gets sad. I take each crucial step towards Sophie's white marble-lined pool in silence. She's propped up on the back of some guy, clearly out of her god damn mind. Once I reach the edge of the marble, I slump down and put my feet in. "Sophie." "Hmm?" she hums, looking up at me with glossy eyes. The guy under her rolls his eyes and places her down. "Who wants to play chicken?" he asks, averting his attention to the other bikini-clad girls in the pool. After momentari