Cynthia Bradsen is the girl who has connections. She helps the drama queens find their gaggle of gossiping populars, and the nerds find the chess club. It's always been like that for her because she always wants to make sure everyone is happy. The only problem being she isn't in a clique herself and that's not the worst of it. Her job as local "Clique-Maker" has become a lot harder. Resident rebel and bad-boy, Kyle Hummings isn't into the whole group thing and he doesn't plan on changing that.
Dubbed super-challenge by Cynthia, Kyle is forced into her world of clique's and assigned-tables. Instead of giving in, Kyle makes a bet. If Cynthia can fit into a clique then he will too. The only problem? She can't find anywhere that suits her or her interests, and even worse, the more time she spends with Kyle, the more drawn to him she becomes.
Can Cynthia find her group of friends or is she destined to lose and be a loner? A hilariousness tail about a high school girl trying to fit in.
Operation K.Y.L.E (Kill Your Life's Emptiness)
The Bad-Boy and the Bet
Popular Girls: Properly Glossed
Comedians: Come On
Normies: Not Happening
Loner: Like No Duh
It's a Win-Win Thing
Over and Overrated
I smile falsely and brightly when Sasha approaches. I can practically feel the popular-girl aura radiate off her tall and may I say perfect, form. Her smile mirrors my own as her blond hair swishes around her head, falling in perfect curls.
"Hi, Cynthia," she says in a voice so sweet it makes me want to brush my teeth. "Have you found any recruits for me yet, hon?"
I sigh. It isn't easy always being the girl who assigns people to where they need to be. The whole reason I even started doing this to make people happy. I've never really had any friends so I decided to make sure other people didn't have the same problem. Popularity just kind of came with it, I mean I'm not like billions of friends popular, but people know who I am. Anyways, making people happy? Do not send them to Sasha.
"Nope," I reply calmly and popping the p."Considering that school hasn't started yet and it is the first day? I do not think that I have found anyone from the student-body that would appreciate your company. Not just yet, Sash, not yet."
Her smile falters for a minute and I can see past the cracks in her fake persona. She only pretends to like me until I get her some bimbos that are new to our school and just as shallow. Like she even gave a care about me. Meanwhile, I have to keep up the charade that we are best of friends.
"Oh, okay. Well I understand. Catch ya later then,"she laughs and let me tell you, she couldn't fool a deaf man. Yeah, that's how bad it was.
"Mkay, goodbye," I put emphasis on the bye part.
Sasha leaves shaking her hips and tossing her hair while I let out a breath and calmed down a little bit. That girl gets on my nerves! Besides her being the one to diss everyone, have a different guy each week, and spreading rumors about me behind my back. She is the cliche of the century and looks like she either stepped out of Mean Girls or Vogue, maybe both. Needless to say, every student that isn't kissing up to her is secretly thinking of ways to kill her.
The bell rings and the horrible part of life called school starts. Off to another day of extreme torture. The first day is always the worst and it never gets better.
When the lunch-bell rings and we all pile out to the cafeteria, I smile. My lunch will be split between eating and table-assigning. Hopefully, there will be something good to eat since it's the first day and that should be reason enough.
As I am about to pick up my tray from Pam, the lunch-lady, I feel arms grab me by my waist and under my knees. Before I can even tell what's going on, I am hoisted atop someone's shoulders.
Brant, the cool guy who I became friends with last year smiles at me from below. We bonded after I helped him win the heart of his crush who is now his girlfriend, Nicole. I laugh as some of his friends that are jocks join and lift me up higher, taking me to a table where a pink sign that states,"Clique-Maker," hangs.
"Check out the Clique-Maker! She'll help you with friends and everything," Brant yells above the ruckus his friends are making. I smack him lightly on the head and join in on the laughter. Clique-Maker has its perks, and being Brant's friend is definitely one of them.
Brant sets me down on the bench and places my tray before me with a bow before I shoo him and the guys away.
"Go, get out of here. Nicole is waiting."
"Fine," Brant replies smiling."It was her idea though. You know I'm not that smart."
With that he leaves taking all his friend with him who give me the occasional wink and smile. I turn to my tray and see what is for lunch today: tacos. If I wasn't absolutely beaming before, now I am as bright as the sun.
That smile stays as I continue to eat and watch as my table is crowded with people asking me what to do. A girl with fine red hair is assigned to the chess club, a brunette boy goes to the jazz group in the corner, and a Goth chick goes with, well, with the Goths. Halfway through the meal, I have already told over one-hundred people where they might be happiest in our school.
That's when I see him. Blond hair that seems tousled to perfection, black Converse, and aviators. Seriously, this guy looks like a walking ad for Ausie, Aeropostale, and any other big brand you could think of. I watch as he smooths his leather jacket, and swings his leg over a chair. I'll admit it, because it is true. He pretty much has me mesmerized.
"That's Kyle Hummings," Nicole says. "He's our resident bad boy ya know. Everyone either wants him or want to be him, but no luck on even getting close to him. The guy is a total loner. Sort of like you."
"What," I snap out of my trance to see Nicole smiling widely at me.
"I am so not a loner and I knew who he was. It's not freshmen year and I am unofficial Clique-Maker."
"Chill! I was just saying and you are a loner, Cyn. Me and Brant are like your only real friends that don't leave after you tell them where to go. Yeah, you are the table-assigner, but you need some friends, girl. By the way, we have a class to go to and I really don't want to wait for you and your gawking."
I blush crazily which just widens her smile. Covering my embarrassment with a quick scowl while struggling to stick all my clique notes and names in my bag. When I'm done I make sure to avoid any eye-contact with Kyle Hummings.
Kyle Hummings was always the loner kid. Him and his pretty eyes and blond hair were always in a corner coloring, reading, or listening to music. If you ever caught sight of him talking to someone I swear you would just gape and let your mouth fill with flies. He has never shown any interest in anyone either. This is weird due to the fact that he is drop-dead gorgeous. At least that's what people say.
We get to class and I see Mrs. Spatchula,er, I mean Mrs. Spats, sitting in her chair dozing. Big surprise. Every time we get to her class she is sleeping. We let her do this for a good thirty minutes before someone decides to wake her which is a danger in itself. If her drool does not drown her then her crazy reaction to waking up will. Poor Arnold was smacked upside the head with her ruler last time he woke her. Yeah, very dangerous. She's sleeps like the dead and is pasty pale. Yeah, Spatchula vants to suck your vlood!
I walk to the back of the class as Nicole takes her seat by Brant. The two get closer and I look away because I really don't need to watch a make-out scene. I already watched Titanic over the weekend and I'm not in the mood for any more romance. I don't want to watch what I most definitely don't have. The closest I have gotten is a guy flirting with me at the airport.
I set my books down and am about to sit when my butt slams against the ground. I moan and someone's over-sized high-heel smacks the back of my head. Oh, the pain! Who wears stilettos anyways? They are named after knives for a reason!
"Sorry," comes Sasha's sickingly sweet, candy-dripping, good-for-nothing, stupid-
"Fine, Sasha," I hiss.
When she walks over to her desk and gives me a huge and finely plastered smile, then proceeds to suck the soul out of some jock. Poor guy, he'll never know what hit him and his face might never recover. I'll be sure to pay my respects to his family.
I let out another moan as my head and tailbone start to ache like crazy. Instead of getting up, I fall flat on my back with my eyes closed. Silently counting to twenty as I bang my head on the hard floor again and again.
I hear a chuckle and snap my eyes open half expecting Sasha's obviously botoxed face up in mine. Instead, the first thing I see is aviators staring down at me with a crooked, half-smile right below them. Kyle raises an eyebrow and offers me his hand. I grab it and he helps me to my feet. Great. Just. Great.
"Bad day there, Preppie," he asks as his mouth turns into a smirk.
"What gave it away," I snap sarcastically. Not in the mood, man, I am not in the mood.
"Whoa, easy there, little snap-dragon. I was just asking."
"And I was just replying!"
Kyle backs away with his hands in front of him. I roll my eyes and turn back to my desk. I push the chair directly in front of the desk and keep my eyes on it as I take a seat. When I am secure in a sitting position I pull out my notebook and scribble down some doodles. I love to draw but nobody really knows or takes the time to ask.
Mr. Kazowski walks in with a huge smile. Oh no! Never trust a teacher with a smile. It could be the difference between life and death, but unfortunately there isn't a window near me so I am trapped. Let the fun begin.
As if to prove the point in my thoughts, because the first thing he says is the beginning of a very long year.
"Welcome back kids. Now let's open our books to page 1."
Like I said, a very long year.
Turns out Mr. K is pretty cool. He's in his early thirties and is hilarious! Not only is he funny, but he is fun. Fun with a capital FUN. I think maybe I'll actually look forward to his class. Maybe the year won't be so bad after all. It was pretty crazy to watch him try and wake up Mrs. Spats who was in the wrong classroom. I still had her in second period, but what can you do? This is turning out great!
By the way here's a tip. Never think that.
"Yo, Clique-Maker," yells a male voice.
I cringe. I know that voice. It belongs to Josiah Dellusy, captain of the basketball team and girl-crazed player. He hasn't gotten his claws into me yet so I have kind of been the apple of his eye currently. Not exactly something that makes me happy.
"Leave me alone, Josiah. I do not want to have anything to do with your female withdrawal."
Josiah had been at a boy's camp for the whole summer and didn't see one girl until last week. Yeah, you could say he's been deprived in his mind. So easy target must have been painted on my forehead because when he got back, Bam! He's had his sights on me since. Lucky me...
"Hey, CM! I just wanted to know if you wanted to come over to my place today. The parents are gone for the week and we could have the whole place to ourselves," he says with waggling eyebrows.
"Did you not hear me, Josiah? I am not interested in your perverted thoughts and I really don't want to make them a reality. Message received?"
I don't give him time to answer before I am on my way back to the lockers. Another groan escapes me for the hundredth time today. The first day is always the hardest for me because I don't get a break. Today I have to assign every student to a clique, tonight I'll have to remind them, and tomorrow I will be forgotten. Oh, the joys of being the Clique-Maker. Note my sarcasm.
Operation K.Y.L.E. (Kill Your Life's Emptiness)Edit
Today was the second day of school. I am forgotten. I was up 'til two in the morning last night helping people with their assigned seats at lunch for the rest of the year. I can tell you every name of every student in the school by now. Of course they forgot who I was ten seconds after I was done helping them. So my popularity went back to a zero today, but hey what can you do?
I am so glad that school is over now and I can escape from the crowd who doesn't know I exist. So when I run into someone I sigh really loud. That's the last thing I need because between work, avoiding Sasha, and my lack of sleep, I am ready to go home and flop onto my bed as soon as possible.
To make it even worse, I don't just run into the person. No, I have to go all dramatic and do a half-flip in the air and nearly face-plant on the sidewalk. Whoever I ran into has got to be a guy (please don't be Josiah) because when I rammed into them, my body was telling me I hit a brick wall.
"We keep meeting like this. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to get my attention," says a familiar male voice.
Seriously? Out of everyone it had to be him? It's official: my life sucks.
Standing up and wincing, I let my eyes travel to the reflective aviators covering his eyes. Are they like super-glued to him? I mean it isn't even sunny. Weird...
"Sorry, just trying to get over the stress of ramming into a stinking brick wall, and getting stabbed in the head with a high-hell. So don't worry, I am not trying to get your attention. Actually you have to be trying to get mine because every student last night was asking why you aren't in a clique-I mean group. So what is the reason, hmm? Do share, please."
Mean and frustrated I know, but I was getting tired of the constant texts wondering if Kyle Hummings was going to hang with them. I didn't know what to say so the letters "IDK" were sent over fifty times last night. In fact I was starting to wonder if it was possible for Kyle to fit in a clique. Well isn't the time to ask perfect?
"Whoa," he responds smiling. "I was just asking to be polite. What I really wanted to say was a whole lot ruder. Would you rather me say that?"
"No," I answer quickly. I really don't want to know what the bad boy thinks about me. "But you didn't answer me. I mean do you have any friends? Do you know what the word means?"
"Actually yeah I know what it means. That would be the reason I don't have any. I don't do cliques, groups, or anything like that crap. They are annoying and pointless."
I am stunned. What kind of person doesn't have friends? I mean he should at least have some crazy, leather-clad girlfriend to fit the whole "bad" exterior. He is even weirder than I thought. And now there is an awkward silence.
"So, um... I'll be going now. Thanks for helping me up," I say as he gives a half-smile/smirk. My cheeks redden and I silently pinch myself for looking like an idiot.
"Yeah, see ya later, cliche-maker," he responds with a grin.
"It's clique-maker, but you can call me Cynthia..." I drone off because he's already walking away and out of ear-shot.
My phone vibrates and I pick it up. The bulky screen of my Android phone vibrates and I see the caller is a friendly face, Nicole. I smile, at least I can count on one person to help me get through everything. Nicole hardly calls or hangs with me because she is usually busy with Brant. I treasure the time I actually spend talking to her because it's like having a sister that isn't one. Being an only child gets kind of old after awhile.
"Sup, Nicole? I was just, um, walking home."
"Oh, how far from your house are you," she replies with a hint of annoyance.
"Two houses down from mine. What makes you ask?"
"Because I am currently sitting in your living room watching TV and eating some delicious cookies. So hurry up."
"Okay. I'll be right in so do not eat all my cookies," I laugh.
Hanging up the phone and placing it in my schoolbag, I unlock my front door. The scent of sugar-cookies and bubblegum hit me as soon as I walk inside. Nicole is reclining on my mom's leather couch, eating my cookies, and watching CSI: Miami.
Nicole's head snaps upright giving me a clear view of the TV. I contemplate jumping on the couch to join her or escaping to my room before my parents get home. I decide to escape the prison-guards, er, parents, and lock myself in my room. So I pull Nicole's arm and drag her(and the cookies) up the stairs to my lair.
"So what do you want, Nicole? I get the feeling you didn't just come over for a nice visit with me," I ask.
"Nope, I came for the free food and to get a break from Brant for the day. He was driving me crazy insisting that I hang with him and the brainless jocks. I needed to hang with an actual girl. Believe it or not, hah."
I laugh. Brant's friends are slightly annoying when they act all stupid and such. I catch her drift and agree completely. I pull out my homework and motion that I am going to finish it first. She nods and pulls out her own. Since I worked on it earlier on my free period, I only have a page left.
So when I finish I go downstairs and warm up some pizza. I grab two Cokes, napkins, and some popcorn to finish the pizza off. I march back upstairs to Nicole smiling happily. She's done with her work too so we decide to eat and chat while watching some old episodes of Castle.
"Nathan Fillion is perfect is all I'm saying," I say.
"Not as good-looking as Brant," she argues back.
"Nicole! I am talking celebrity. If I was talking school students, I would say Kyl-What?"
Nicole waggles her eyebrows at me while I give another scowl. Seriously, just because he is the really handsome guy and mysterious doesn't mean I like him. Psh, the nerve of some people thinking that.
"Somebody sounds like they have a little crush? Come on, it is pretty obvious," she says smiling.
"No, I most definitely do not! He probably doesn't believe in girlfriends anyways. He doesn't have friends or anything. The weird part is he does not want any."
Nicole thinks it over and carefully replies,"You know if you got him into a group the whole school would remember you the whole year. Getting the loner to find a clique then bam! You have instant popularity for the next millennium."
"That has got to be the most," I pause. I really would be remembered. Not for a millennium, but at least all the way to senior year. It could be great. "Wonderful idea I have ever heard! He's super-challenge of the century. I'll do it."
"Yeah, but ut needs a name," Nicole garbles out between chewing her pizza.
"How about," I go over it in my head and smile. "Operation Kyle: Kill Your Life's Emptiness?"
Nicole smiles and we both finish our Cokes deciding how to proceed with Operation Kyle.