There is a saying that everyone is equal. Whoever said that had obviously never experienced the real world. It isn't in any way true. It's just something they say so they don't feel as bad about the way others are treated. As an example, see that girl sitting beside you? She gets bullied for being intelligent and because her eyesight isn't all that great. That boy from your math class gets picked on because his big family can barely afford food, never mind a car for him or his siblings. Those girls by the lockers with so much makeup on that they look like a clown, attempt desperately hard to lose weight or wear the right clothes, just to please the standards set. 

          No matter how much you choose to ignore it or try to change the situation, it's going to be that way. You may be one of those teenagers, or you might not. Either way, you will reach a point in your life that you decide to hate it. Your life I mean (though you could despise the way the world is also). It might be for a short period or forever. But at some stage, everyone has that feeling, the one that they're unimportant and that they will never amount to anything great, despite their efforts. 
 
          I had passed that point a long time ago. As it went away though, I came to the conclusion that I didn't care. I didn't care about the scales, the fashion, how my hair looked or if my face wasn't perfect. My world sort of came to a standstill for a moment as I thought it through, that horrid day my freshman year. Suddenly it just didn't seem worth it to bother. Which I suppose is what broke apart my image. I, too, was one of those girls hoping, just dreaming, that I'd wake up as perfect as the celebrities on magazine covers. 
 
          It never happened of course, so eventually, I gave up wishing. All those girls who were my "friends" magically stopped hanging out with me and talking to me. In the end, I figured out why; I didn't wear loads of makeup or gossip over boys anymore, I didn't stress about the "perfect outfit" or who had a crush on whom. Those days were a blur of loneliness and boredom. Coincidentally that is how I met my current, real friends (who not surprisingly were all guys seeing as I gave up the drama of girls after those events).  
 
          Since I had nothing better to do, I was studying and my grades were gradually rising. With my weekends empty, I signed up to tutor kids. It was actually a load of fun and the boy I was helping with science, Lucas, introduced me to his friends. It kind of went on from there and here I am, three years later, with the most annoying but greatest friends, anyone could ask for. It seemed a part of my brain still lingered in those past years though as if one day I'd just hang up the not-cared act and actually try again.  
 
          To be honest, I think the best place to start the tale is a month and a half before my high graduation, specifically a dreary Tuesday morning. It felt worse than the day before for some odd reason, Mondays were (and always will be) the worst depressing downers, so it came as a surprise. It was third period English and nothing was a hair out of the ordinary: the cheerleaders were gossiping, the jocks were laughing amongst themselves, the people with no friends in the class were staring at the clock feeling bored, the nerds were reading and the others that made up of the class (including myself) were talking quietly to their desk neighbors. That was until Miss Bailey strutted through the classroom door.
 
          She was grinning deviously as the class grew silent. "Good morning students," Was all she said as she settled down at the desk in the front of the room. The atmosphere was awkward as we seniors sat there, staring uncomfortably at the old woman. "Oh right, the lesson!" She laughed at herself. "Some of the kids from my past years may have told you about my annual essay." 
 
          Groans and excited whispers broke out. All the seniors had the same task at the end of the year for Miss Bailey. It's a tradition for her classes to write a paper on anything you feel strongly about. "I'm giving you a month to write the assignment. It must be some of your best work because it counts for a third of your overall grade. To get a good grade, I have to believe you really care about the subject at hand. You’re welcome to write about anything you wish and it can be any length. Questions?" 
 
          Jay, a full of himself jerk on the football team, stuck his large hand in the air. Miss Bailey nodded and Jay cleared his throat, "So if I want to write a page about football... I could?"
 
           "Well yes, I suppose so. Just remember though, if you don't do well then you might fail English and have to do summer school for your diploma." The teacher cautioned him. Regardless, Jay and his friends high-fived each other, clearly glad it was such a simple task.
 
          "Now I want none of you to reveal your ideas to one another. They are strictly confidential, not to be shared. If I discover you have told someone your chosen topic you will get an immediate zero. Be original and have fun with it." All twenty-four of us remained silent as we pondered the possibilities. At that point, I was tossing the thought of doing it on religion and beliefs. The perfect plan had yet not come at that time. 
 
          "Oh and, Kali?" I paused in the doorway, moving a bit to the left so other kids could file out. "As one of my most talented writers, I expect something great out of you." She winked and waved me off, leaving a sudden overload of pressure on my shoulders.
 
          It was killing me as Jackson and I ambled toward the cafeteria for lunch. I just knew he'd have an amazing subject; Jackson was basically the most logical of our group. It wasn't as if the girls swooned over him, unlike Patrick but he was super cute and was the most trustworthy. I'd probably find him boyfriend material myself if he wasn't so much like a brother to me. "So," I stretched the word out, "do you have an idea? She didn't say that we couldn't tell if we knew what we were doing or not." I was always looking for loopholes; I guess it's because my dad is a lawyer after all.
 
          He gave me a look I interpreted as: Don't try that move, I'm not helping you come up with something. "Yes, I know what I'm writing and no, I'm not telling you. But it's definitely not about football." We laughed about Jay's idiotic idea. He was most likely going to be held back and everyone but Jay himself seemed to realize it.

          "Fine, don't help me. I can come up with something totally brilliant myself." After chuckling again, the entrance to hell was in front of us. We nodded at each other then pushed open the doors. 
 
          Kingsman High must have the loudest cafeteria in the country. But the sound always stops when the doors open. As you maneuver your way to the front, everyone sizes you up for the day, if you make it to the food without anyone shouting out a bad comment, then your appearance has been accepted. It's extremely unreasonable in my opinion. Who wants to be criticized by everyone just so you could grab lunch?
 
          "Hey, Kali! Nice in those jeans." A boy behind us cat-called. I rolled my eyes and carried on my stride, it was best to ignore the guys like that.  
 
          "He's not lying, Kali." Jackson winked at me teasingly. I smacked his arm and paid for my lunch (my usual, a turkey sandwich and Pringles), not waiting for him as I headed for our table. "I was kidding. Look I'm sorry, your looks terrible." I glared at him before whacking him again and sandwiching myself between Christian and Patrick.

 
          "We have to put up with the tension of an angry Kali now, Jackson. Thank you." Patrick smirked. I punched him also then took a bit of my sandwich. "Someone's violent today." He grumbled moodily, rubbing his now tender arm. I can proudly say I have a hard punch, from months of perfecting it in the Tae Kwon Do class I took in fourth grade. Patrick is most likely the most handsome of the group, so everyone says, he's also the most athletic. I, on the other hand, detest everything sport related.
 
          "Leave the poor girl alone, guys. She's just depressed that she doesn't have a date for prom." Christian sighed like a dreamy girl mockingly. I shot him a look and he flinched back, muttering his apologies. 
 
          "I don't want to go to prom anyway. Everyone makes out it’s a big deal but it's just another dumb way to make fun of someone's date or dress. Thanks, but no thanks; I don't want to take part in that." I was lying and they probably all knew it. I've dreamed of going to senior prom since I was a toddler, I had every detail down, even my dress which will be what my mom wore to hers.
 
          Someone wrapped an arm around my shoulders from behind, "A, we know you want to go and don't even attempt convincing us otherwise. We know you're bummed no one has asked you yet, but they only announced it last week. If worse comes to worst one of us will take you." Christian moved over and the speaker slid on the bench next to me, never removing his arm. 
 
          I feel myself melt onto his soft shoulder, a terrible habit, "Thanks, Lucas It means a lot but you know it wouldn't be the same." If you saw us you'd think we were together, but we're not. Lucas is cute and all but dating has never really been my strong point so I didn't try to approach that kind of area when I started tutoring him and now that we're best friends it would just be strange and uncomfortable to admit the small crush I had (still have) on him.
 
          "Hey, you two just had Miss Bailey right?" Derrick asks. Jackson and I nod and glance at him curiously. "Do you have your ideas for the essay?" I pout and shake my head; Derrick is Patrick 's twin, but for some strange reason girls are more attracted to his brother. It might be the bad guy reputation Patrick has built up where Derrick is more of a shy, be-quiet-and-not-interfere kind of boy.
 
          "No. I have an idea but it just doesn't seem right." I answered his question verbally. I crunch on a chip, half listening to the conversation now. My mind was flipping back and forth, debating the prom and essay conflicts. With nothing better to do, I excused myself and stood up. 
 
          The bathrooms were on the opposite side of the cafeteria so it took me a while to reach them. Just as I did though, something -or someone- crashed into me and we both landed on the floor with a bang. I brushed some lettuce off my shoulder and took a look at the guilty offender. Brianne, arguably the most popular and prettiest senior girl, scowled back at me. 
 
          "Well look what the janitor dragged out of the garbage can. Kali the most humble girl in the school." I winched at the title I had been given a few months ago randomly at an assembly. When I attempted to shuffle away, she slapped me. Right on my left cheek, which was now throbbing. “What, the wimp wants to leave?"
 
          I slid my palm off my most likely red cheek and slowly looked up at her smirking, fake tanned face. Without questioning it, I punched her in the bridge of her equally unreal nose, which caused her to go flying onto the dirty floor. "Have a nice day, Brianne." With that, I spun on my heel and strut away. Cheers erupted. I knew I wouldn't be able to get away with it so I grabbed my backpack from my locker, slung it over my shoulder and walked at snail's pace to the main office.
 
          Once upon a time, Brianne was actually nice. Not quite my friend but nowhere near the enemy status, she is now. She would come to school with her hair in braids and say good morning to all the teachers and other students. But I suppose everyone does change in the end. That is the one thought that led me to my essay idea. The one thought that began it all.