“Smile!” The way too preppy photographer said. I obliged and smiled while I did the ridiculous pose she made me do. “Hot mama! Looking good!” She said for the third time. I could hear my friend Safia laughing from aside and I prayed for a tsunami to sweep me away from this cell they call school. “Would you like to see yourself Emma?”
“No thank you.” I said. The photographer gave me a pout so I agreed to look at my picture. “I look like the BFG if it had gotten beaten to death.” I expected a laugh from preppy photographer but I just got a sad “Oh honey”. I walk to Safia who is practically a laughing Elmo toy.
“Girl you looked fantastic! Especially when you put your hands in your pockets but left the thumbs out. Did you learn that from Vogue?” 
“Sorry, Vogue told me to keep everything I learn confidential.” I said while putting my backpack back on. “And it’s not like yours was any better.”
“Oh don’t get me wrong it’s like I filled in for a raptor in Jurassic World, but you looked like one of the witches from that Roald Dahl book.”
“Really? I thought I was more BFG than The Witches.” We start walking back to class and its like if God knew it was his turn to give me crap, my phone started ringing. Sadly it wasn’t the regular ring, it was the sound from Psycho from when Norman killed his mother. I dig out my phone from my pocket and answer my mom.
“Emma, what happened to the five eggs?”
“Five eggs?” Safia looked at me like if I magically grew a Y chromosome.
“Yes five eggs! I had five eggs left in the carton and unless Lucky grew feet instead of paws I think you’re the culprit Sunshine!” My mother said a bit too loud for my own ear.
“Mom, I swear on James Dean I did not touch your eggs. Even if I did what would I do with them? You know the food I cook tastes like someone put cardboard in a microwave.”
“I appreciate the James Dean reference.” Silence. “Oh, I think them left in Lucky’s bed to take cute pictures of him. It makes him look like he laid them.”
“Okay mom, you have a blast and I will earn those good grades.” We both said bye and Safia shook her head.
“I should’ve known you were The Boston Food Products Thief.” Safia said. “But you’re lucky Emma, you have a parent.” I nod. Safia lives in a foster home I might add, one more year and she is 18. She insists her Muslim background has something to do with her not being adopted but I always say it’s her horrible puns. I put my arm around her and we walk to our English class together.
***
Samuel King is a horrible little boy. In 3rd Grade he poured a potted plant on my head and we have been enemies ever since. Safia insists he likes me and I hope he does so I can crush him like the seductress I naturally am. Anyways, enough exposition. Mrs. Lincoln, my English teacher, put that Gremlin in a group with Safia and I. The assignment was to interview a parent or guardian about what they thought about Hamlet, so obviously my mom couldn’t do it because the last book she read was a Junie B Jones book, and Safia didn’t really want to ask her foster mom because apparently she “eats rocks”. That left Samuel King’s snobby parents. So that’s where the story picks up, at his ugly (but I have to admit kind of nice) house.
I send another “WHERE ARE YOU” to Safia and put my phone back in my pocket as Samuel shows me around his house.
“And that Emma, is our bidet. Do you know what that is?” He asks.
“Oh geez no Samuel I have never! As a lady I do not know anything about those European fellas or anything related to the gluteus maximus!”
Samuel rolls his eyes and I take a little curtsey. “You could at least try to be nice you’re a guest in my home.” That punk actually sounded a little hurt. As much as I tried to enjoy it I actually found myself feeling guilty. Safia then replied, and I wanted to scream as soon as I read her message. Apparently dental hygiene is more important to her than being at Richie Rich’s house for a project.
“Can we just start this? I will be a proper lady to your mum I promise.” I say and it’s like I can feel Samuel’s gut get punched. “Sorry no more.” I say and I didn’t get a snarky reply surprisingly.
We walk into his living room, he actually has a chandelier. I am livid. Samuel’s mom sees me and gasps like she finally understood a math problem. She rushes to hug me, “Emma! Oh I have heard so much about you!”
“Don’t have your expectations too low for me Mrs. King.” I say while trapped in her arms.
“Why on earth would I have my expectations low for you?! All I hear is praise from Samuel!” Just then Samuel pulled me away from his mom like I had smallpox.
“Can we just, do this project?” Sam doesn’t even look at me and I start to get angry for some reason. What kind of things does this boy say about me? That my hair is perfect? That I am so smart? I can’t believe that jerk. I storm out of this Bond villain’s house and I can hear Samuel follow me all the way out the door.
“What do you say about me? Be honest too.”
“Just that I like you.” He said, a little less confident than whenever he knows every answer in class. I shake my head. “And, I want to know if you would like to possibly go out sometime. On a date.” I look at him like his Y chromosome has been replaced with an X.
“Are you serious dude? You have a problem. You cannot treat women like they don’t know anything and that you’re just Moses and expect them to fall in love with you. I would rather go on a date with a saber toothed tiger than you. Now if you expected me to fall soft on you I’m sorry but this is not the scene where I feel bad for you for some reason even though you are super rich and agree to date you.” I turn back around and walk to my car to meet Safia for lunch. “And you better put me and Safia’s name on that paper or I will twist you into a pretzel!” I yell.