The Stunnerz

Chapter 1 Roxie Russo Date: January 5th, 2011 Time: 8:15 AM Location: Beverly Hills High School (BHHS) Outfit: Dark jeggings (PacSun), 2 year old chestnut UGGS, hot pink rubber watch (Stein Mart), bright yellow racer back tank top (Forever 21), black rhinestone zip up hoodie (PINK), and bright yellow headband. “Name?” asked the office secretary curtly. “Roxie Russo.” I tapped my UGG boots on the ground impatiently. I was late enough as it was, and it didn’t help that it took her thirty seconds longer than it should have to type my name on the sleek, white keyboard. “Grade?” “Tenth.” “What is your reason for being tardy?” “Uh . . . busy student parking lot.” My face burned from the lie. The secretary raised an eyebrow quizzically and I shook my head, defeated. Why did I have to be such a terrible liar? “Actually, my alarm clock did not ring until 7:35 AM and I had to at least try and look a little decent for my student body.” The secretary did not reply as she filled out a threatening bright yellow tardy slip, tore it off the stack and handed it to me across the counter. “Hey look, it matches my outfit!” I joked, trying to lighten the mood. She glared at me over the rim of her cat eye reading glasses and I took that as my signal to get the heck out of the office. “Have a great day!” I stumbled on my feet by the door, and my forehead rammed into the glass door, leaving a sweaty mark. My forehead throbbed and I could feel a major bruise coming on. Not only had I woken up late, but after a two minute shower, my hair straightener was not working, so I had to blow dry my hair upside down (it dried faster that way) which made my hair ultra-teased, as if it was not big enough with its huge, lazy, platinum waves. So, at promptly 7:50 AM, I ran out of my house shoving a granola bar down my throat (my mother says it is mandatory for me to eat breakfast before leaving my house), and hopped into my 2010 gray Toyota Camry. Half way to my school, BHHS, Cams (my car) was about to give out on me because its tank was empty, so I pulled into the nearest gas station to grab some gas, which took a good ten minutes of my time due to the suit clad business people rushing to get their tanks filled so they could make it to their important jobs in Palm Springs or East Hollywood. So of course, by the time I got to the infamous Beverly Hills High, all the parking spaces were occupied, and all the parking lot safety cops were gone so there was no one to direct me anywhere. I ended up parking on the football field. Hey, the season was over! I slowly opened the door to my homeroom, Room 201 with Mr. Hanks, and crept to the back of the room to sit by some of my friends. Mr. Hanks had his back to the class and he was typing away, probably emailing his mother, who regularly interrupted our study halls with her noisy phone calls. I shushed the forty pairs of eyes on me and slid into my seat, barely making a sound, my face hot from all the attention. “Nice of you to join us Roxie Russo, please bring your tardy slip up to my desk so that I can deduct your points,” he said loudly. His voice practically bounced off the poster covered glass walls that allowed you to see what was going on in the hallway and the classrooms around you. Chanel, my cheerleading diva of a friend snickered and I shot her a scathing glance. “Sure thing Mr. H,” I said, masking my exhaustion and moodiness with an enthusiastic voice. I trudged up to the desk, careful not to trip on the backpacks in my path. “This should be a lesson to all of you; nothing gets by the Hank-master!” His greasy black hair and sarcastic smirk made my skin crawl. He signed my tardy slip and quickly took points out of my account in the grade book. People laughed at his not-at-all humorous joke and I quickly hopped back into my seat. What a great way to start off my morning! “Trust you to be late on the first day back from winter break. So, how was 90210 over winter break?” asked my best guy friend, Wes Crawford. Wes though just a sophomore was one of the stars of the BHHS varsity basketball team and stood at the top of the invisible, yet, very apparent social ladder of the entire student body. Any word out of his mouth could make any girl break out in cold sweat. And who could blame them, what with his boyish light brown hair (with natural blond highlights), dimples, and wide 6’3” frame; he was irresistible. “Awesome! and you would already know that if you had not been completely all over Marchetta Vern at Kim Young’s party on New Year’s Eve,” I snapped. “More like Marchetta Vern could not keep her hands off me on New Year’s Eve. Hey, you can’t blame her.” he said with a wink. I rolled my eyes and pretended not to see the two girls from the swim team smiling goofily and giggling like mad in Wes’ direction. “Wes Crawford, you are officially the vainest guy I know.” I stood up and hoisted my huge backpack over my shoulders as the ringing bell boomed over the intercom. “I know, but you’ve got to love me anyways Roxie.” I told him I would text him later and rushed out of the classroom before Mr. Hanks could give me anymore crap about being late on the first day back to school in 2011.