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Hai Skül Story #1; 2 Girls : 1 Boy

PART III: Erika Jordan

My name is Erika Jordan. I’m the president of the Wilson High Dance Team. I’m fucking fly as fuck and way prettier than Joyce Dale, head of the Cheerleading Squad. I get pretty good grades and spend a lot of time with my two best friends, Sarah and Danielle. We like to go to the mall, but we’re also very concerned about various political causes, like making sure the 4-H Club has brownies for their bake sale and other philanthropic events like that. OK, but you want to know the real story? We just do that because my advisor said 4-H will help my chances getting into a good college. And “philanthropic” was the only word I got right on my last vocab quiz for English.

Oh man, hopefully that sort of fake-it setup won’t be the pain of all of these years I’ve got to come? In my defense, as a Freshman, I’m the first girl at Wilson High to...

...become president of the dance team in her first year of High School, so it’s not like I’m just sugar coating my college application with fake extracurriculars. Maybe, if I don’t end up going to school with my boyfriend, I might go to Julliard and become a dancer. Either way, please don’t ask me how I became the first Freshman president because I’d literally have to kill you; just kidding.

Well, I’m going to get all honest with you now. I hadn’t been dating Erik Crooners until this last Halloween. He found me that night, when I dressed like a Playboy Bunny. He was dressed as an executioner and took me into the parking lot behind the Players Club and asked me to be his girlfriend. Of course, since he’s a senior and one of the best guys on the Basketball Team, I said, “Yes.” Then he pulled out a condom and we did it doggy style behind the dumpster. OK, yeah, definitely don’t tell anybody that. Then, we all went out to party at the Flats. It was a good night, like we were celebrating something extra special.

After that, we’ve been super straight. I got him these sick Jordans for Christmas, with this dark red on the tongue that perfectly matches this lingerie he got me at the mall at Fredericks of Hollywood. When I pulled them out of the package Christmas morning in front of my parents, I literally screamed, for good and bad reasons. It’s like we’re meant to be.

Or, it was like that until something super heavy has me totally messed up for this last month. Me and Erik have been super good with each other since the New Year started and we even tell each other we love each other now. He takes me on dates almost every week and I think he is starting to think how we are going to get to stay together when he goes off and plays ball for a school. I honestly have never liked a boy this much!

So that’s why I was pretty upset this last week when I went in to see my doctor and they ended up telling me I had the clap. *sad face* As soon as she told me during my regular check up, all I could think about was the last time I had had sex with Erik, wearing the outfit he’d gotten me for Christmas. It had been pretty wild, in a hot laundry room in the hotel where the Dance and Basketball Teams played out in Atlantic City. But, see, I don’t think that’s where it happened.

Danielle said that her cousin had once gotten it, but she had been dating two different guys and didn’t know which one she got it from. She was so afraid to let either of them know she was seeing the other one that she kept her mouth shut and told them both she was going on vacation with her family for a month. Danielle didn’t specify how it turned out for her cousin, but she didn’t need to: her message was loud and clear.

Me and my two besties have all had our eyes on DeShawn Preets, Erik’s best friend, whether we like to admit it or not. He is a total dork, a little bit awkward with his body and always following Erik around like he wished he were me or something. Sometimes I catch Erik texting him when we are laying down if my parents are out of town and Erik stays over or if we go camping and I wonder what the hell these two bros talk to each other about.

I told this to Sarah and Danielle and that’s when we all confirmed that we thought DeShawn was hot, in like a weird Drake-way. Sarah said Justin Bieber, but me and Danielle told her she is wrong. First of all, between DeShawn and Erik, Erik is the one of the two friends with tattoos; my favorite is the one he got of my name over his heart! DeShawn doesn’t have one tattoo on his body. It would be weird, DeShawn playing all hard like that.

I’m going to swear to God to you. I honestly used to think DeShawn was just kind of my boyfriend’s bitch, always following him around, kind of piggy backing on Erik’s widespread popularity, like he was just picking up Erik’s rebounds. Then, what happened was me and Erik got into this major fight at a party two weeks ago.

I was sitting out in the big yard on the stone wall in Erica Chavez’s parent’s house, this big Spanish style villa in the Valley, crying my eyes out. Danielle was there trying to comfort me, a little helpless because Sarah was out of town at her cousin’s bat mitzvah and Sarah’s always a little better at getting me to calm down. The party was kind of small, more like a get together, so there weren’t that many people in the yard. All of a sudden, my good friend from childhood, Herman, walked out into the back yard. It had been ages since we’d talked. He’s a senior, like Erik, and when me and Erik started dating for reals, I think Herman got a little jealous.

He really shouldn’t though because he’s gay and so kind of awkward with the other kids around school, and I honestly think he should be happy I found someone I can be happy with. What it came down to is that I was really sick of listening to him talk about meeting guys online or hooking up with these weird guys from our school who, I guess… I really just didn’t want to know. But he’s gotten more popular since he got a job as a front counter boy for a local pharmacy where he can snag errant bottles of Percocet. Ik’d heard about this, so I kind of woke up when he walked over to see what was wrong.

Turns out he had started seeing a guy out of town and things were good and in the ten minutes we talked, he passed me one of the pills from his job. This definitely got me feeling good and I quit crying shortly thereafter, starting to laugh at the stupidest shit and wonder a little bit where Erik had gone. That’s when DeShaw rolled up.

He said he was worried because he saw Erik take off really upset and wouldn’t even talk to him, DeShawn, his best friend. I think in that moment, both sets of our worried eyes met each others’ and we started making out. I ended up falling off the wall, so DeShawn said he would take me home. He didn’t say which home though, and I ended up waking up the next morning in his bed with a headache. It was Saturday and I was surprised he didn’t make me walk home. I was actually super surprised how caring he was; he made me breakfast and pretended to his parents like we had just fallen asleep while watching a movie. He was even kind of cuddling and gave me a kiss when he dropped me off. But he also made clear, “Erik should never know about this.”

Honestly, Erik was never going to be the wiser. At least, at least… at least not until I went to my doctor. And you know about that already. *sad cat face*

I guess what I have got to do is not lose heart. Erik loves me so hard. We are so good for each other, plus I’ve got him trained like a dog! He even got my name tattooed over his heart. God, I just know he is going to ask me to leave school and go live with him whoever he decides to play ball for.

#haiskulstories #highschool #popularkids #highschoolclicks #collegebasketball #danceteam #pointguard #highschooldating #high school party #erikajordan

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Hai Skül Story #1; 2 Girls : 1 Boy

PART II: Anastacia Raynolds

My name is Anastacia Raynolds. My friends call me Ana. I’m one of the brightest girls in school, but I hate school. Fuck Wilson High School and all the shitty kids that go there. Except my friends, who are OK. We like to hang out and systematically plan the deaths of all the popular kids while we paint our nails and watch Heathers or Twin Peaks. Sometimes we watch My Sweet Sixteen if we run out of popular kids to fantastically destroy.

I do well in school because I’m bright and I’m nice to the kids who are smart but too socially incompatible to aggregate any sense of a circle of friends. Turns out, they are some of the coolest kids in school because they die to have a class next to me and in exchange, they will do anything for me. Usually it’s like: “Will you please get me a cup of water? I’m still working on this problem,” but they are happy to fulfill a variety of purposes. Needless to say: wrapped around my little stinky pinkie.

Part of the reason I like them is because I have a lot of shit to take care of in my life and I don’t always have time to go to Hot Topic in the mall if, say, my striped leggings get a run. Diane Blair works there. She acts so goth with all of their weird, glittery, off-color makeup, but she honestly just makes herself look like a clown. The popular boys seem to like her though, so whatever.

Now, you get the basic idea of what I do in and out of school, except I have a few hobbies I didn’t mention that I like to keep to myself. I’m actually really tight with my family. I have a little sister who I aspire to mentor as much as possible. She is going to Wilson High next year and I’m almost done with her starter kit. It includes profiles on the ten most popular seniors-to-be, including their favorite brands (in case she decides to fall in with them). She’s awfully pretty and I could see her falling in with one of the jocks. I’ve also included for her where the ten people they live and what kind of cars they drive (for obvious reasons, if she follows in my footsteps).

I’m a little bit torn about what social group she is going to choose, but I’ve made a full proof plan to flat out not care. She may be more popular with boys than me since she flat out likes them more than hitting the books, a divergence of our personalities. She’s had some guys over that, yeah, I can call guys, to the point that sometimes I’m slightly concerned for her since she’s still only 14, but the guys drive awesome cars and buy her clothes and she seems happy enough. She gets them to help her with homework, so I really can’t complain.

When we were younger, we used to be a pair of tomboys and would fight like boys with the neighborhood boys, play in the mud, steal the other kids’ bikes and such. I guess we both have the rebel bred into us, we just have matured into different ways in terms of how we logically put it to use. When I started to see the way she was getting guys to do her bidding, I figured she might have picked up better on our mom’s pretty housewife thing.

All for good reason: our mom is a fox. I guess I got girly when I hit high school and switched up my style, started puting on a little makeup. But I still never dropped my boyish pursuits. Quite the contrary. Neither my sister nor my mom were much thrilled when I started excelling in math and became the president of the motorsports club. They end up opting to spend Saturdays at the mall and for reasons I cannot comprehend, Jaqueline, my little sis, never got over going to church. Personally? I say burn it.

They say having a large network of friends is a guaranteed path to increasing the likelihood of longevity. I care a shit ton about my little sister, so when I saw she wasn’t growing out of her Catholic pursuits, I felt I needed to take action, so we could sit together well after our primes, saggy wrinkles eating up the Carribean sun, sipping piña coladas. I had the realization  just about halfway through sophomore year and up until then, I’d been hitting the books hard, outperforming even the nerds and not thinking too much about a social life to any degree. But I have a decent amount of foresight and I imagined my girly little sister getting to High School, failing at academia and not having any friends, so I figured I should buff up on the real extracurriculars for her sake; I started going to parties.

It was just around that time that I began to gather a following. My grade is a little weird in that most of the alternative girls are of the gothic persuasion and they simultaneously have a lot going for them looks wise. Using my head to grow my popularity but sticking to my cute and nerdy alt guns, I became a pin-up magnet and I soon had every pierced and ungodly chick’s posts rolling out a black carpet for a funeral-themed wedding whenever I scrolled through my Facebook feed. I guess they were excited by my bad-chick sleuthing skills to find the ragers and for good reason: I got them skin with boys they probably would never have seen until finishing their tattoo artist apprenticeships after graduation.

In turn, I was granted a spot in the throne as the prettiest in a flock of birds who would peck to pieces any sausage party. To put it plainly, we get what we wanted by sheer volume of pussy. I don’t even have to make plans on a Friday and by nine, I know where the party’s at and I know my gang will blow it up and turn even the lamest bangers into a roving burlesque.

And that’s exactly what we did over winter break when Stacy Fields, one of my prettier girls, let on that her boy Monty was having a get together with the basketball team. Stacy had visited Diane at Hot Topic earlier that day and snagged a couple bottles of O.P.I Midnight Glitter, so as soon as the bell rang, we all piled over to her house, ate strawberry Poki and watched The Devil’s Rejects while we spread layer after layer of shimmering jet black nitrocellulose over upwards of 100 nails.

We like to be fashionably late, so we rolled up to the party around quarter past eleven, ten girls decked out in torture garb with purses full of candy in a big black Chevrolet Suburban. When I got inside, it was apparent the party had already started because there were quite a lot of empty bottles sitting around, but the music was a little soft, dishearteningly acquiescing to hoots in a smoky family room focused on a plasma TV playing a videogame.

Monty walked up to me out of the smoke and asked me if I’d like a drink, so we headed to the kitchen where a couple other girls from the South Valley were comparing their boyfriends’ dick pics while sitting on the tile countertop, tugging out of a 32 of Miller High Life. Monty mixed me something strong that tasted flowery and vaguely like blue toilet liquid, but it got the job done. Uninterested in the dick pics, I walked back into the smoky living room, took a hit off a blunt that was being passed around and was lit. Then, I spotted him.

Across the room, sitting on an overstuffed brown faux-leather couch, was Erik Crooners, A-team player for the Wilson Wildcats basketball team. He looked uncomfortably out of place, not playing video games and not doing much at all except just kind of waiting for me to pounce on him and eat him up like he were a cup of soft serve.

Now, please don’t get me wrong. If I told you my taste in men, I’d first have to tell you my taste in women, to have a juxtaposition with with which to easily compare. I like Latina girls: tall, thin, but muscular. If she has a tattoo: especially my type. The more, the better. As for men: ditto! And Erik fits the bill to the ‘T,’ his sinewy body was even just ever so slightly caramel color, surely from all that time he spend with his oafish bestie DeShawn. Even made his white ass look a little bit vato: Swoon!

So then I stood there for like a split second, eyeing his most prominent tattoo, a ridiculously vain spidery scrawling of his own name that seemed to bulge out of his tank top on his left pectoral. I didn’t want to be a deer in headlights though. The faux-leather furniture set made the room feel especially ‘den’-like, so I took off my shoes and pranced over, flinging myself onto the big brown cushion next to Erik.

The whole chase was as much like eating soft serve as it had looked from a distance; all I had to do was pull on the little black bow in my hair and kind of tilt my head to show him my neck and he was melting. He tried to make conversation a little like a car trying to start when it’s battery’s dead. After he tried for the third time to say something incomprehensible, then he just kind of pulled his head back a little bit and squinted his eyes all Chinese.

We were up in the master bedroom for probably 20 minutes. He was acting a little like putty, but I’d had only one drink so I decided to take control. I’d had a crush on Erik Crooners ever since the third grade, ever since he gave me a stupid valentine that had a bunch of misspelled words on it about farm animals. I remember when he gave it to me, I took the sweater I had just taken off and threw it in his face.

Ever since then, my feelings of guilt had sort of blossomed into an obsession with his pathetic attempt, his embarrassment, his red little cheeks after I threw the sweater, stuck in my mind as cute but also loving. But when he came, his face got all sort of red and puffy and his eyes bulged. It was a little repulsive and made me question the whole engagement. I didn’t waste time and quickly got up to use the bathroom. On my way down the hall to the bathroom, I got a string of texts from Stacy: 

“Where R U??? // 

We jackt the keg! // 

Alreds in car + keg + we gonna leave yo asssss!!!!”

Even though I felt like I was about to piss myself, I sprinted downstairs and out into the car. As soon as I got in, everybody started asking me where I’d been and then Felicia shouted out that she’d seen me go upstairs with Erik. While my opinion had just been stilted by Erik and the idiosyncrasies fornication will no doubt pull out of a lover every once in awhile, all of the girls started screaming. The keg had already been tapped and we took turns pulling out of it directly, half the girls in the car, including myself, blacking out by the time we reached Stacy’s house.

Looking back, maybe Erik wasn’t all that bad in bed. I remember at one point he started saying something and it pains me to think that I might of heard him confessing, “I love you.” Maybe that’s why he didn’t pull out and maybe that’s why I had to pee so bad after running out of the room, even though I thought he had. All in all, one thing came out of that night: me, pregnant with Erik Crooner’s baby.

#haiskulstories #highschool #popularkids #teen #highschoolclicks #collegebasketball #danceteam #pointguard #dating #parties

[haiskulstories-blog]

Hai Skül Story #1; 2 Girls : 1 Boy

PART I: Erik Crooners

My name is Erik Crooners. I am the A-team point guard for the Wilson Wildcats. I’ve got that strong release to get my shot off at virtually any point on the court with an average of 37.4 points per game and ball handling skills nobody can touch. My life is basketball and basketball is my life. If I knew I was going to die tomorrow, the only place you’d find me is out on the court shooting hoops. And keeping up on my Snap Chat, of course.

As soon as I decide which scout I choose will get me for their school, I want to already be rolling out the court-centric clothing line I’m sending off to co-release with my older sister Whitney who is studying fashion in New York. When I’m out on the court, I’m making every single shot and when I’m not, I’m making everybody jealous, wiping the sweat drops off my forehead to take a snap of my dope ass threads. My best friend, DeShawn Preets, gets so jealous of my project with my sis, but that’s because he used to date her before she graduated and went off to school and he hates when I spend any time ignoring his ass so I can keep our business model up to date. But I don’t give a fuck.

We cool though. And when me and him aren’t on the court or picking up a paper from Diane Blair who thinks we the shit and writes our term papers for us, I’m the only Wilson High senior who can spend half a minute in a keg stand. We party so hard, we afraid we going to die. And we love it. Being on the team we get all the hookups because everybody thinks we fire (which we are), everybody follows me flossing on SC and sometimes I’m a nice guy and let DeShawn step into the frame too.

We got plans to go to the same school, but recently he’s been a little down because my number one choice sent out a scout who didn’t contact him, and I think he knows I sacrifice nothing for my future career. Actually, I tried to keep it to myself when they contacted me, only called my sister up to let her know, but the next week, when we got off of school and went to pick up some herb from my house, my mom caught us grabbing munchies in the kitchen on our way out and asked me how the meeting with the scout had gone. DeShawn got all pissed off and took off and I had to go and smoke with this girl who’s a junior who won’t get off my nuts.

We actually never hooked up, me and this girl, except once, at this party that was aight over on the West side of town. But it was kind of weird. It was the birthday party of one of my buddies from the team, but he C-team and I only went because we used to be tight in middle school and our families know each other. It was one of those half ass parties where people were playing Tekken 9 and it seemed like the alcohol ran out like five times while I was there, and then suddenly this big old group of bitches rolled up. But they were the weird bitches.

Turns out my guy Monty who is also on the C-team and who hooks me up with mad smoke if I let him come out and shoot with me and DeShawn, was boning one of these girls, a freaky one, with a silver ring in her nose and some of that Amy Winehouse crazy eyes. I like my girls a little smoother, polite, the family type who maybe goes to church and snaps me a pic of her thong when she’s waiting in the confessional. But that night I was bored as fuck watching those fuckers get their asses kicked by the Playstation, so when this one bitch sat down next to me on the couch, I started talking to her to be nice and do her the favor.

She was actually pretty fine, dark hair with smooth porcelain skin and these blue eyes that were bright, vibrant, but kind of made her look like a witch. Like all the girls who showed up, she was wearing all black, a spaghetti strap shirt with dripping white letters that said “Rabbit”, with one of those pleated schoolgirl skirts that got me kind of chub when she started playing with the end of it.

Most of these girls don’t usually know what the fuck they are doing, trying to get into the real parties to jump on us popular boys�� jocks, make all their friends jealous and then go home and write about it in their plush diaries. There are girls like Diane who stick to the books, but most of these girls just seem like hoes, like they want to skip college for a baby and a townhouse. Bitches know I’m mansions though, so it was kind of crazy how this girl started getting so forward. I figured she knew I was mansions.

She told me her name was Ana and that the girls had all come over because the parents of one of the girls whose house where they had been hanging out had gotten home. She started saying they were doing some witchy stuff and I got kind of freaked out and wondered if I should take off. She said they had a Ouija board. Once, my sister’s friend told us this story about how she had used one of those to talk with this other girl’s younger brother who had died. Creepy.

But this girl kept pulling on that short little skirt she had on and chewing this huge bubble gum that seemed like it was making her mouth water like if she had eaten a thousand Warheads. I had just hit a blunt I was passing around to the C-team guys, and I started thinking about that watery mouth all up on me. Her lips looked swollen, like a bee had stung them all over, and she was doing this thing where she kept sighing and tilting her head back. I started thinking about it. I started thinking about it hard.

Typically, I don’t go for that kind of shit because I’m out taking care of some freshman bitch who as big as a bunny and who I love to toss all over her parents’ bed when they go out to dinner, but that night I was stuck way over on the West side and this girl was so, so down. After we fucked, my mind was blown, like that big old bubble gum she was chewing, but what really got me is that she just took off, jetted downstairs without a word. I guess her friends had left, so by the time I got my clothes on and back downstairs, she was out the door too.

I tried to chase after her and maybe get her number (helps to keep a girl in check even if I don’t date her, keep her from bothering me when I’m with someone more serious), but I saw the taillights of a black Chevy Suburban down the block as it was pulling away. It was almost like she had fucking sprinted out of there, but I said fuck it, and went back inside to hit the blunt and not let shit get to me.

#haiskulstories #highschool #popularkids #teen #highschoolclicks #collegebasketball #danceteam #pointguard #dating #parties #bangers #creativewriting #fiction