She screamed, she screamed with everything that she had, her eyes roaming from one pink sheet to another. She closed her eyes, placed her hands in her ears, tears freely streaming down from her cheeks. The words were whirling around her head. Whore, slut, bitch, dumb blondie, a plastic doll, faker, these were the words that were written in the sheets, in those papers with a pitch black marker, the words that those people think she is, the words that she never was nor she will be. She had never slept around, she had never ruined an innocent's life, she never wears a faked, she is a straight 'A' student... then why? Why do they misjudge her, why do they think of her for someone she can never be? She hated them for that, for that prejudice. Does she dress like a slut, does her physique give them a slutty outlook? The questions were striking her, banging her in the head. Her body fell on the floor and she continued crying and sobbing for hours. She felt tired of all this outlooks and perspectives. Too tired.

-

***********************************

"First? Yes, about the cafeteria, Warren, do you still have the draft?" She asked, as she set in the middle of the whole room with the other members surrounding her.

"Yah, I have that but are you sure, I mean, that twig will practically turn into a tomato if we will criticize the cafeteria's food." He asked her for the fifth time.

Well, if you're thinking who this twig they are talking about, it's there dear principal.

"For the thousand time, I don't care. The newspaper and the articles are for the school's students not for him, after all. Plus, I have heard enough from everyone. No one likes the the food they are serving and honestly if principal really wants this school to secure the best, then he is bound to listen to us." She said as she opened the laptop that was placed in front of her. She scrolled through the files until she found the right one.

"These are the copies that I had saved last week. Let us see what we have here." Her eyebrows arched together as she ran her eyes through the folder.

"Warren, write whatever I am gonna tell you by the vary next second, yah?" And the guy nodded, opening his notepad.

"First, cafeteria food... Next, we have to give the time table for the next week exams. God, they are already here, aren't they?" She cursed under her breath, making Warren chuckle.

"Don't laugh, I hate exams." She pout.

"Miss president, please proceed." He said with a smirk to which she stick out her tongue annoyingly.

"Well... next we have to publish an article on the foreign affairs and you know, those external shit?"

"Aha, then?"

"Then comes the interview of the debate team leader about their last victory on the nationals, then the interview of the basketball captain and coach, then of the lacrosse team and then baseball team and what they are going to do about their failure in the last match. Oh and yah, please add that tomorrow will be their last chance to compete for the quarter finals, if they lose they will have to say goodbye to the tournament."

"What do you think Faye? Will they win?" Warren asked, casually.

"Duh. We never succeeded in winning a single tournament in that sport. It will be a miracle if they will do this time." She said, rolling her eyes.

"Yah. Even our coach doesn't have a special interest in that sport like he has in the others. I guess, the guys are pretty unlucky."

"Sure they are. Anyways, back to work. So what was I saying?"

"Oh, about those interviews."

"Ah, yah, so, you don't have to worry about those drafts, I already have them. Just make a proper, neat copy of all this." When Warren nodded, she continued, "Next, we will be announcing about the upcoming dance contest. Remember, those who will be selected will compete in the state's. Don't forget to mention that, alright? Then, we have..." She continued talking about all the articles and Warren kept on catching up with her.

And at last...

"Finally, we took out the drafts, divide the work among everyone, yah?" Warren nodded at her and was just going to go when a thing clicked in his mind and he instantly turned around to face her.

"What about the special article that you prepare every week? Did you got any idea of what you're going to write about?" He asked her.

"Surprisingly, I do. Actually, last week, I really thought about it. And I think I have some ideas to work on. Let's see what I can do." She said, throwing him a genuine smile.

"That's good. I actually am eager to go through your article." And he winked at her before walking away.

Faye's eyes went through the whole room and when she saw everyone getting busy with their work, a smile took the way to her lips.

They will complete the task just in time, she thought and finally darted her eyes to her laptop.

Now, she had to write the special article. She opened MS Word and stared at the screen.

What should she write about? The increasing poverty, the crisis of Somalia, on increasing racism, or on increasing feminism.

She tapped the board with her finger. Now, she had too much of ideas.

"Miss, Miss president?" Just as she was going to write the title, she was snapped by a girl's voice. Isabella's voice.

"Isa... you're finally here... I hope you are better?" Switching the laptop off, she motioned for Isabella to sit in front of her.

Tears were threatening to spill out of her eyes, "I, I am sorry Miss president, I really didn't mean to do that... when... when I woke up in the morning, I... I swear it was with me, I honestly had it in my bag but... but when Warren asked for it, it... it just disappeared, the catalogue, the articles, every... everything was gone..." And the tears ran down from her cheeks.

Faye knew she was sorry.

"Hey, please don't cry Isa..." She stood up from her chair and walked to her side.

"I am sorry for letting you all down Miss president, I really am." She choked on her words, sobbing recklessly.

"That's alright Isa, everything is perfect now..." Faye patted her head, she herself feeling bad for her.

"Ah, Faye?" She heard Warren's voice from behind and turned around.

"Yes, Warren? You had something to talk about?"

"Ah, yes... I... I was on my way back to here when I found Kyle searching for you. I told him everything and he said he will wait till you're done." Warren said, uneasily as his eyes went towards a sobbing Isabella.

"He was looking for me?" A faint blush appeared in both side of her cheeks.

"Yah... yah, he was. Ah, by the way, Isa.... Isabella, I mean, I know that you didn't mean to do that, and I am sorry for rudely talking to you.... I... Ah, please stop crying." He ran a hand through his hair, stammering with his words.

"That's okay... It is not your fault that I am so careless..." Isabella said, her sobs turning into hiccups.

"Hey Isa, you see, we need as much as help we can get right now, so..." Faye threw a familiar look at Warren as Isabella looked at her with pure confusion.

"Will you mind helping us, Miss Editor?" And hearing Warren's words, she smiled through her tears, her eyes staring at Faye's happy ones.

They were wrong, they all were wrong. Faye Lockwood isn't the bitch they claim to witness, she's one of the most kindest and beautiful person, Isabella had ever met.

************************************

Her fingers ran through the keyboard, "Stereotypes, we get them in book, some say they don't exist and even if it does, we take them just the way we had imagined them to be. For starters, we will take the jock, the cocky but ruthless king or alpha who rule his own pack of wolves. We think about the loner, the guy or girl who can't even speak for themselves. We think of the nerd, the one who's too weird and is bullied by everyone. We think of the Queen bee with her cheer leading squad who bitches around and tries to ruin the life of a girl who 'accidently' might have spilled a drink on her brand new, see through white shirt. We think of the bad boy, the boy who roams through the place all by himself with no one by his side, with a cigarette in his lips and a body full of piercing and tattoos. Yah, half of our assumptions are maybe, really correct but does all of them deserve that prejudice?"

"I have seen jocks around me, the team captains, those who are always surrounded by people but honestly, they aren't like the cocky bastard one had imagined them to be, some of them are pretty amazing to hangout with. I know cheerleaders, cheerleaders who are freaking great, kind, beautiful people, those who are not at all dumb or bitchy, those who are misjudged, those who are one way or another, tortured. I know nerds who are friends with these cheerleaders, I know jocks who are secretly nerd, I know nerds who are secretly part of a gang."

"The loners and nerds that you run from, I swear will be the best partner in crime. About those who are known around by each and everyone, whom you all label as the 'populares', whom you all assume to be all bitchy and rude, they are pretty amazing people to be friends with. They just compose themselves in a way to protect them from you all students, cause even if they don't show, your glares, piercing words make them feel insecure, terrified. They don't blame you all though, cause somewhere they think they are the ones who should be blamed."

"You all call me popular, you all think it's great to be one, to have disciples around you who obeys everything that you say but who, practically hates you. I am loathed by millions of you, not only me, my whole friend circle is hated, you all call us profanities, you think we are manipulating bitches and monsters, that we just know how to ruin people's lives. We aren't that bad, you know."

"I don't know why I am writing all this, cause honestly maybe no one will even care but, is it bad that I don't want any of you to hate me? I am called names, a slut, whore, plastic doll but do you want to know the truth? I have never slept around, me and my friends had never bullied a single soul or just asked someone to walk naked around the hallways just because of some stupid mistake..."

She stopped suddenly, her hands jolted up and she looked at the words that she had typed, going through it again and again.

What's she doing? This wasn't something she had planned to write about. She had never planned to write about herself.

Her hands went to the delete button. No, this wasn't something that she was meant to write about, this is so wrong. Thinking about all this, she clicked the delete button, and just like that, the whole draft vanished.

"Hey Faye, are you done with your article?" She heard someone ask.

She let out a heavy breath, her mind whirling with negative thoughts, "I have not even started yet."

************************************

"And finally we are done. Good job today Miss president." And waving at her, Warren walked away from there, leaving her near her lockers.

She finally succeeded on writing an appropriate article for the newspaper that was going to get published tomorrow, she even forgot about the deleted drafts.

"And finally, you're done." A faint blush appeared in both of cheeks as she heard Kyle's familiar voice.

"You didn't have to wait for me, you know." She said, even if deep down in the heart, she wanted him to be there for her.

"I wanted to..." He said with a grin.

"Oh, we won by the way." He added.

"I know, I know, I read Blake's interview." She said with an eye roll, opening the door of her locker.

And that's when the papers started to flow, papers that were cut in the shape of a heart. Papers where profanities we're written, papers which claimed that Faye's a whore, a slut, a bitch, a plastic dumb blonde, a pathetic girl who can do practically everything just to become popular.

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©tomboy_16