We are all the heroes of our own story. And there are many versions of the story. And Jon is an unreliable narrator.
I lifted my bag over my shoulder and headed across the yard. I didn't pay much attention to the boys following me. They were like background extras in my life. I ignored them completely. As I walked, I spotted Karyn Black and Jon Gibson in their usual spot. I shot them an icy look. I was certain they were the ones who started that rumor about me and the captain of the football team. He was an idiot and a jerk who thought that the head cheerleader came with the position, like the team jacket or something. And I'm not that kind of girl.
Karyn was wearing her usual get-up of scruffy old slacks and her favorite worn old green jumper. Her short red hair was in its normal unruly state. Too cool to own a brush, I guess. I looked away for a moment, then looked back at Karyn's perfect blond hair...so much like mine, but with that evil grin on her face. She was planning something.
I got into my car and drove home. Daddy ran a company. He had married my mother, a model and aspiring actress, and my mother had quickly changed careers to become a socialite. That mostly meant going to business events with my father and charming business contacts. And then sleeping it off till late morning. She was the one who pushed me to become head cheerleader. Her success as a model and an actress had been limited, and she kept pushing me to succeed where she didn't. I spent more time with the people they hired to watch me than them. When I was younger, I didn't understand, but now I do.
The house was empty. Now that I didn't need babysitting, we had a maid who cooked, cleaned, and kept things running, but she went home at night, and was off two days a week. I checked my texts. My parents had gone to some business meeting in New York, and wouldn't be home till the weekend. Tomorrow I would be at school late for cheerleading practice, and would probably go out with the squad after, but tonight...
