Beep! Beep! Beep! Reagan’s irritating alarm rang though the house.
“Reagan, turn that thing off before I get up and throw it out the widow!” shouted Hope.
“Touch anything of mine and you’ll be the one out the window!” Reagan barked back.
Hope groaned and shoved her face in her pillow; Reagan would more than likely leave the stupid alarm ringing just because she knew Hope was annoyed. She drug herself out of bed like a zombie. This is a typical morning in the twin’s home. The two wake up fighting, they spend their day fighting, and they’ll likely die fighting; it’s just going through the motions, almost a habit.
School was no different, the two knew the drill; don’t look at each other, don’t talk to or about each other, and heaven forbid don’t interact with each other. Hardly anyone would know they were related if it wasn’t such a small town. Here at Rochester High Reagan’s the queen bee of the tenth grade; pretty blonde curls, bright blue eyes, perfect tanned and clear skin, a million friends and followers, plus she’s the cheerleading captain, of course. Everyone wants to look like her, and everyone wants to be her, except for Hope. Hope Blakeley has long curly brown hair reaching her mid back, green eyes, a million freckles covering her cheeks and nose, and would rather be out on the basketball court than jumping and cheering in a short skirt on the sidelines. Hope also hates making new friends; she’d much rather have one good friend then a million fake ones; which is exactly why she loves her best friend Mason.
Mason is the best friend anyone can only dream of having; he’s hilarious, he’s so much fun, you’re never bored around Mason, he’s super sweet and caring, he always has your back, and you can trust him with anything. Plus, he’s gay, so you can have a best guy friend, and still drool over the acberacrombie models outside the mall. Most of the time you can’t even tell Mason is gay; he’s not the stereo type, actually, he’s not any kind of stereo type. That’s what Hope loves so much about him.
Reagan talks to about a thousand people whose names she doesn’t know on a daily basis, but she still has two good friends, Paeson and Nala. Like in Mean Girls, Reagan is the Regina George of this group. She lies to those around her like it’s her oxygen, and she needs it to survive. But, of course, this doesn’t bother Paeson and Nala; to them it is everything to maintain their spot in this close knit circle. They know what it feels like to be at the bottom of the food chain, and now that they’re at the top, they will do anything to stay there. And their loyalty belongs to Reagan just like two little golden retrievers; after all, it was she who rescued them.
If it wasn’t for Reagan I’d still wear khakis with crocks and big glasses, care more about homework rather than hygiene, and spend my Friday nights playing Cranium with my lame family. She got me where I am. This is all Paeson can think about, especially when she sits there like a deer in the headlights while Reagan is telling off some kid for dropping their books right as she walks in front of them. She giggles at Reagan’s insulting jokes towards others so Reagan won’t make them about her anymore. Paeson hates what Reagan does, but when everything isn’t all about Reagan, there are upsides to being her friend; first of all, everyone treats you like royalty. Any boy in the entire school would give his pinky toe to take you on a date; plus, you get to borrow her closet which means you have a cute outfit every day and never have to wear the same thing twice. Paeson didn’t used to care about her outfits, but that was a lifetime ago. Now every single outfit has to compliment her brown eyes and short blonde hair, but that doesn’t bother Paeson.
Nala had an eating disorder for as long as she could remember; she’d always had perfect skin and a pretty face, but she was just a little bit on the chubby side. Nala got made fun of on a daily basis in middle school about her weight; some students would fallow her around and oink, and ask her if she wanted some more slops. School was a nightmare; Nala was scared to show her face outside the comfort of her home. Though home wasn’t much more pleasant, considering the bullying fallowed her on the social media as well. Nala was ready to give up when her mother decided to try a new approach; she knew her daughter was self-conscious about her weight, so she signed Nala up for a personal trainer at the Y. On her first day, she was in tears, sweating buckets as this strange man yelled at her to work faster. Coincidentally, Reagan was at the gym that day; she saw Nala working and decided to turn her into her own project. Reagan waited for Nala to finish, and she then ran to meet her in the parking lot. “I have something that will help you Nala,” Reagan said.
“You know my name?” Nala gasped.