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Thin-Mints and Tagalongs

Novel By: Kairi
Young adult

*Inspired by the Dairy Queen commercials*

At Willow High School, your popularity status is VERY important.

You know how it is, there are always "those girls". The popular ones; gorgeous, tall, model-like, thin as mints, and the girls that exclude themselves from anyone "uncool". You'd think everyone wants to be the way they are.

Then, there are the tag-a-longs. The ones that want to be like them, and try to.

Nothing has really changed at Willow High, until Josie Taylor, a nice, guitar playing new girl, switches things up between the two groups.

Will she be consumed by popularity? Or will she settle the on-going battle between the Thin-Mints and the Tagalongs?
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Submitted:Feb 27, 2010    Reads: 84    Comments: 6    Likes: 0   

"JOSIE!" my mother yelps from downstairs, "Wake up already! It's the day before your first day!" I groan and roll over, soon to be sleeping again.

Faintly, but clear enough to comprehend, I hear my mother's feet stomp up the stairs. My body cranks itself up, and I fling myself like a frisbee out of bed.

I rush over to my dresser and open the bottom drawer to grab a pair of jeans, and then grab the knob above it to do the same gesture to grab a top. I hear a ripping sound, but am too tired to make any importance of it.

I hear three knocks on my door. "Come in," I say after practically falling multiple times. Who knew pants could cause such trouble?

"Hurry up!" she speaks in a motherly tone and is about to turn away, but hesitates. "Jos," she chuckles.

"What?" I run a brush through my brunette bob.

"You might want to wear a different shirt if you're touring the school today," she doesn't hold back her laugh this time. I set my brush down.

I can't help but smile at her bubbly chuckle, and turn to my mirror. My eyes widen and she continues to giggle as she walks out, and shuts my door. There's a giant gape in the left side of the shirt, revealing my grape-colored bra.

I laugh to myself and shake my head in disbelief; how could I be so oblivious?

I open my drawer again, and change to a silky turquoise shirt.

* * *

The warm breeze flaps my shirt like a bird flaps its wings, and the sun presses a good mood into me as I blankly twist my mouth from side to side. I gaze at the school with the big glass windows on each side. As I do, I realize that half of me is excited, but the other half is filled with pure nerve. I hate being the new girl, there's always that feeling like everyone is staring at you, or talking about you constantly.

Breathing in and out, I push my thoughts of cliques, boyfriends, and drama away; I advance forward towards the building. My flip-flops slap the concrete as I descend towards the door.

I look at the glass in-front of me and pull the handle, but of course, it's locked. Furrowing my brow slightly, I bite my lip until I spot a little black button next to me. I peer down to admire the sand covered concrete, and gently press it.

"The door's open," a nasally sounding voice comes out from the small machine.

I reach for the handle, positive it would open, and jerk it back, but the same scenario happens. It's locked.

I push it again. "Excuse me, but the door is still locked," I slightly chuckle.

"Oh, right, sorry, I thought you were the principal." a non-nasal voice points out, sounding slightly embarrassed.

I shake my head in a what-just-happened sort of way, and enter into the school.

Wooden tables are spread out according to their size in the main room. Which I presume to be the cafeteria. I continue on in the bright room, until my pea-green eyes wander off, looking at murals on the walls, and catching a colorful banner that says "Classes From the Past.". I admire it for some odd reason, and like a magnet being pulled to another, it attracts me. I slowly move my way around the tables, trying to avoid the furniture, until I stand within feet of the pictures.

I giggle at the funny faces and smile at the gold frame that's empty with my class' year at the top center.

"Hello?" I hear a door creak open. A boy comes out with white gloves on his hands.

My attention turns away from the photos.

"Are you a new student?" He questions.

"Yeah, I um, I was just looking for the office, but I got distracted by the...painting," my voice trails off.

My face flushes red in humiliation, but I notice he smiles and laughs for a short minute.

"I'll show you," he says and rips the glove's off of his hands, and then wipes them on his apron.

I follow him down the quiet, long hallway. Having no idea what to say, I avoid making it more awkward by blankly, and carelessly gazing at the walls that are masked with a sky blue color.

"So, what's your name?" he breaks the silence.

"Josie," I can't help but smile.

He smiles back and repeats my name to himself.

"Are you still showing me where the office is, because it seems like we've gotten a bit off track," I say as we turn down a hallway that says "art, science lab, cooking", all with arrows pointing in the direction where we were heading.

"Well, I was at first, but I thought I'd get to know you first." he hesitates, but continues, "See, I'm on the committee for showing new students around, and I was just doing my job." he grins.

"Ah, well, that's cool, but it seems as though the class period is almost over, and I should be getting home soon. I really don't want to be introduced," I laugh and scratch my head, hearing my charm bracelet, that I forgot I was wearing, jingle.

"No worries, I'm in study hall, and if you would rather me show you and let you be, it's right down this hallway." he waves his hand in the following direction.

I progress forward and we walk in calm air. The silence came back like a bee returns to its nest; it's promising, but you can never tell exactly when. As we pass by the classrooms, I catch eyes looking at us, and all that would be breaking the dead air, is the bell.


I smile to myself, but pick up the fact that the students were leaving the rooms. Panicking slightly, I rub my arm and ask him a question, rushing to leave.

"Where's the office?"

"In that room," he points.

"Oh, is she new," a preppy blonde walks out and searches me up and down.

"I have to go," I pivot away and fasten my pace.

"Wait!" I hear him call out, but my feet don't curve around.

My messenger bag punches my right thigh as I advance down the hallway, until I notice a sign that says "Office". I slide to stop, but do a double-take and fall. I'm so coordinated it's not even funny. I think to myself.

In the distance behind me, I hear a laugh, but ignore it with my might, and stand up. After I brush the dust off of my jeans, I fiddle with my hair until my bangs have settled, and I reach for the handle.

As the door swings open, I feel a small pain in my upper arm and cup my hand to fit around it.

"Hi," I say over the counter.

"Oh," a small woman peaks her head up, taking notice of me, "Are you...Ms. Taylor?"she asks.

I nod my head and curve my lips upward lightly.

"Well, Ms. Taylor, here are your assignments, schedules, and maps. It's not much, don't fret," her British accent stands out.

I grab the thick packet, shout a 'thank you' back, and leave Willow High.

* * *

"Dinner!" my mother's sweet voice trills.

I set my pencil down on the packet that's almost thin, and hop down the carpet steps.

Once my socks press against the wooden floors, I can smell a watery, buttery, garlicky sweet smell that makes my nostrils want to dance. Pasta and garlic bread.

"So, how was your guys' tour?" my mother asks once we all settle.

My sister, Sofia, looks up and gives me a sharp look, telling me to go first.

I roll my eyes at her, "It was great, except the fact that I'm directionally challenged, and the building's half the size of a football field," I point out.

My mother laughs along with my sister.

"So, Sofia, how is middle school? Since you were the new girl, today." the laughter stops and my mother's head and mine turn to her blonde one.

"I'm not as clumsy, accident-prone, or directionally challenged as you," I glare at her, "but it was great, I already have so many friends." she brags and flips her blue eyes.

To restrain myself from jumping across the table and biting her, I take a piece of bread and make a large indent in it.

"How are we related?" I set it down and question my mother.

She laughs.

* * *

Moving my fingers and pressing down hard, I brush.

"Eek, that sounded like a screech owl," I talk to myself as I play a C chord.

I grasp my pick from my carpet and strum the same note again; pressing down harder, and strumming in the middle of the hole. In my head I think: G, A minor, E minor, C.

Everywhere I'm lookin' now, I'm surrounded by your embrace

Baby I can see your halo, you know you're my savin' Grace

You're everything I need and more, it's written all over your face

Baby I can see your halo, pray it won't fade away.

I smile and continue to sing until the song is over. So I start to strum random notes that sound surprisingly great, even like it could be a real song. This time, I'm thinking: D, A, C2, G.

The best part about guitar is that there's not a wrong and a right, it's your way of saying words that would sound stupid if you were to say them a loud.

"Josie!" I hear my mother as I pause.

I set my guitar back on its stand, put my pick on my bedside table, and run my fingers along the wooden railing until reaching the floor.

"Yeah?" I ask; inquisitively.

"Your father's on the phone," she hands the phone to me and kisses my forehead.

I put the phone to my ear, thinking about why he's on the phone, rather than being here with us. You see, my father's a music accompanist. He goes around the world playing acoustic guitar for famous musicians. He teaches me some notes, or sends me tips.

"Dad?" I wonder if he hung up, since a loud buzzing sound was bursting out.

"Yeah, I'm here, sorry, it's the waves. They're huge!" he laughs as I do, too.

"How's California?" I ask as I pick at my callused fingers.

"Great! I'll hopefully be home soon," he inhales like he was getting ready to say a long speech, "I miss you guys so much, how's mom? She seems happy, but indifferent."

"Yeah, she's fine, but she misses you." I change subjects, "I'm starting school tomorrow," I smirk to myself and yawn.

"That's good; you'll have to inform me how it goes. I'm sure you'll do great." he says.

I laugh and hang up after a few minutes and go upstairs.

I reach into my lowest drawer and grab a pair of sweatpants and a loose T-shirt with guitars on it. After that, I pull off my socks, since I can't sleep with them on, and go into the bathroom. I start to sing "I Gotta Feeling" while I brush my teeth, and I poorly dance around, until I run into my towel rack and knock it over.

"Whoopsh," it sounds like as I try to say "oops".

I rinse and pick up the towels.

"Jos?" my mom comes in and raises her left eye brow.

"I was trying to dance while brushing my teeth," she chuckles.

"You can get it tomorrow," she says and as I pluck the third one off the ground.

I climb into bed and flip through channels until finding a good movie to fall asleep to. Pirates of the Caribbean 3.

"Goodnight," my mom smiles lightly and leans down, "Try to sleep, Jos, and remember that tomorrow will be fine." she says and walks out.

I blankly stare at my ceiling for a few minutes, gazing at the stars and types of galaxies that I've had up there since I was born, but I turn my attention down to the screen and close my eyes.


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