Life Of A Bitch

29

"Have you seen this video of Michelle?" Alz asks me as we exit school.

"Yeah," I say, driving the car on to the main road. "What do you think of it?"

"Well, to me, she used to look like this boring teenager, always drowning herself in studies."

"I do that too," I grumble, taking a sip of my Diet Coke.

"Yeah, right." She said dismissively and continued. "But, seeing this video, I realized that she is really different. I mean, look at her! I could have never imagined her saying these things to a teacher, in front of the whole class."

"But what she said was rude and hurtful," I try to reason with her, knowing perfectly well that one could never convince Alz. A very peculiar type of breed, to which all mothers belong.

"Oh come on," she groans, putting her phone down and glaring at me. "Ninety-eight percent of students think mean and hurtful things about their teachers. It's not a big deal."

I sigh and shake my head. There is no arguing with this girl. We remain quiet for a while until she says, "So, how did things go with Brandon?"

"Jeez, you make it sound like a date," I chuckle and turn left. "It went... bad? The programmer who hacked into my account was really cautious about not leaving any footprints or flaws. Plus, the hacker was very, very strong. Brandon's guys are peanuts in front of him."

"Who said that?"

"Brandon's guys did." I say and shrug. "Anyway, I was of no help because I'm not really that good at Python."

"How could you be of help, if you want to hide your Alpha-intelligence in front of the public?"

I shrug again, stopping at a red light. I wonder what problem do popular kids have with intelligent, studious ones. And I wonder why intelligent kids shy away from popular crowds.

You're popular. Ask that to yourself.

I'm mixed. I possibly cannot answer that question.

*

"Aha, m-effer!" I smile in satisfaction as I write down the solution of this supposedly difficult Calculus problem. To say this was difficult would be insulting my genius.

Stop being vain.

Oh, come on. These few hours at home are what I get for a little self-praise. Don't snatch that away from me too.

My phone — an old and slow iPhone— buzzes and I pick it up. A message from Stephanie.

Did you see what's taking the social media by storm?

I text her: Hmm, I don't think you know but my Instagram got hacked.

Steph: im sorry it slipped out of my head in the excitement.

Me: nah its fine. Btw, whats causing the storm?

Steph: youll b shocked to hear this

Me: tell me!

Steph: Callaghan

Oh right, the video. That's just what I wanted: her to be so embarrassed that she would never look me in the eye again.

Me: So that's good right?

Steph: Good? What do you mean by good? Her followers are reaching 10K!

What?

How? Wasn't this supposed to bring in lots of bullying?

I immediately ring up Stephanie and ask her what exactly was happening.