Asher Meitner
So let's sum up the situation – my mother killed herself with a shot in the head, my older sister is serving a sentence for murder in self-defense and for cocaine trafficking, and my father has sex with three different women during one week.
And now I live in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in Scotland Pittenweem – but we change houses every 4 months anyway, so I just have to wait it out, cross my fingers and try not hit my old man in the nose.
School sucks and American culture takes its toll too much. There is even a group of cheeleaders, which probably only serves a good show in ass shaking for girls. Striptease only in a milder version. There's nothing I hate (when it comes to sport) more than cheerleading.
The cafeteria is an ideal place for observation – you can notice the hierarchy among boys and girls at school. Life losers drink vodka with orange juice in the corner at the exit to the football field, a group of popular people take photos for Instagram or other shitty social media that serve only to honor someone's miserably boring existence.
A group of emos aren't interesting after all. Their forced uniqueness makes me vomit, and their "sophisticated" style of music is just an excuse to show others the middle finger while dancing.
This is the only thing I respect a little bit about emo goths who swing to the music of Arctic Monkeys. That middle finger gesture.
And of course, there is an otaku table – as in the case of any other clique, there is no gender division, although there is a predominance of men in the otaku group. They listen to the anime soundtrack on headphones covered with manga stickers. Which makes me sick.
And the most obvious – the teachers' table. The same ones who sip whiskey from a flask when they think no one is watching. The same teachers (men) who look at their breasts when they talk to their female students. And these people are supposed to be an example, a role model – what a load of crap, they are just a bunch of hypocrites who have lost the game known as real life.
I made these observations when I was eating lunch – an apple, carrot juice and an egg sandwich. Most people threw it in the trash anyway, and then went to the corner shop to buy Chinese soups in cups.
I bet in my head with myself what my old man would do when he came back from work – would he get high or would I get drunk like a pig? I didn't get an answer, because then Juliette Fisher, the school's celebrity, was smiling with a smile didn't show her teeth while walking with a tray and having a lunch on it.
Such a smile signals two things – that Juliette has caught a random fool in her snares or she glues any smile on her face so that people will fuck off from her. It was quite easy to figure out, because I can easily recognize when people are wearing fake smiles. And Juliette has mastered this art to perfection.
"Hi," Juliette said with that forced smile that no one has yet unmasked
"Hi," I replied from my sandwich, "By the way, could you take that annoying fake smile off your face?"
Juliette was stunned at first and then began to laugh loudly. When she stopped, she had an extremely bored face combined with a touch of arrogance.
- I didn't know that anyone would notice, but still. "Indeed, hope dies last," said Juliette, "What would you say to a trip to the seaside to-day at sunset?"
Why not. It's better that way, because my father will be drunk to death, and I don't want to listen to his drunken rants about my sister, Jane, who is in prison.
- We can see each other
And so I unknowingly arranged my first date with Juliette Fisher – the queen of the popularity of the whole school.