“Ooh! Chicken fingers!” My best friend Zooey plucked a small paper carton from it’s precarious perch next to the lunch lady’s hairy elbow. “Eew, Zo. Those have probably been there for like a month.” I rolled my eyes and decided to play it safe with a slice of pizza—seeing as there was still steam emanating from the gooey bubbles of cheese I figured it was probably fresh. After managing to snag the last two bottles of chocolate milk we slid our trays up to the register. I whipped my student ID out from my back pocket, it was probably the least flattering picture of me in existence. My shoulder-length maroon waves, a ridiculous goofy grin, and artfully smudged black eyeliner made me look like some sort of drunk cartoon character.
Once our cards had been swiped we navigated the crowded cafeteria, holding onto our trays for dear life. When we reached our table we plopped ourselves down and sighed with relief. “Zooey! You lucky fuck! Where’d you get chicken fingers?!” Liam looked down at his turkey wrap, disappointed. Dawson rolled his eyes. “Get over it O’Shannigan” The four of us, were sort of like one unit—picking up right where we had left of in December. Zooey Abrams, Kyle Dawson, Liam O’Shannigan, and Farrah Grey: the four musketeers.
Dawson took a gigantic bite of his sandwich, before he even finished chewing he started talking. “So, can someone please explain the whole popular girls situation to me?” If anyone else on the planet had attempted to talk to me while their mouth was still full of food I would have considered it vile. But this was Dawson. Every single thing Dawson did made my heart go a mile a minute. He was just so terribly adorable, and funny, and nice, and sweet, and HOT.
Zooey took the reins of the conversation. “Okay so apparently the pretty one slept with the bitchy one’s boyfriend?” “Oh.” Liam looked disappointed. “What about the one… like, with the boobs?” “Ashlynn?” “Yeah, Tits McGee.” “She’s just been being her usual idiotic blonde self… and stuffing her bra.” Liam’s jaw fell open. “Zooey! No! Don’t say that! Those babies are all natural!” I arch my eyebrows. “How on earth would you know perv?” “You can, like, tell.” I exhale deeply and take a bite of my pizza.
Suddenly the entire cafeteria was filled with a loud crackling noise, the principal was going to be making an announcement. “We seriously need some new speakers.” Zooey shot a shut-your-face-this-second look at me. “Shh!” “Hello John Quincy Adams students! I trust you all had a wonderful winter break. I have a few announcements pertaining to our underclassmen. First off, congratulations to Sophomore Riley Tennenbaum for finishing in second place in the teenage division at the National chess championships that were held in Wisconsin this weekend! We’re all very proud of you Riley. Secondly, the Freshman Formal will be held on January twenty-second in the gymnasium. Nominations for Freshman Formal king and queen are to be held next week.”
Just as abruptly as it had started, the crackling of the speakers stopped. Someone a couple of tables over shouted “Wooo! Freshman Formal!” Dawson rolled his eyes “Why are we even having nominations for that shit? Everyone knows that Jason Rhyse is going to win, couldn’t they just give him the crown now and get over with it?” Zooey giggled. “Oh, I dunno. I’m definitely nominating Dougie Harding.” I laughed so hard that I spit chocolate milk all over my tray.
Of course, Brielle McKenzie chose this very moment to walk past our table. “Gross! Say it, don’t spray it!” Zooey spun around in her seat and gave Briellle the finger. “Fuck off Barbie!” The statuesque blonde sauntered off, a smug look plastered across her makeup-laden face. Liam's eyes were glued to her ass. “Liam! Eww! No!”