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them.”
    â€œWell, it sounds as if you need to work on yourself some more.”
    â€œTell me something that I don’t know. I’ve already come to the realization that I’m a masterpiece that’s still being painted. Only those with a keen eye can really appreciate my beauty.”
    â€œI hope heaven broke the mold when they made you,” I said, getting ready to leave. I couldn’t deal with her conceited arrogance.
    â€œHeaven probably did,” she answered vainly, completely ignoring my insult.
    â€œHas anyone ever told you that you’re crazy?” I asked.
    â€œI hear it all the time, honey.” She tucked the mirror back in her pocketbook, then retrieved a fingernail file. “You know I don’t want to be here, right?” Lori admitted as she buffed her nails.
    â€œNeither do I. So I guess we do have one thing in common,” I said as I scratched my head.
    Lori reached out and touched my hair. “You should go down to Dino’s Barbershop and get a trim before your hair turns into a nappy Afro. I can’t stand guys who are in to that retro thing. Leave the big Afros in the seventies, please.”
    I began laughing out loud because I had noticed some guys were trying to bring that look back.
    â€œThere’s this boy named Roland Gist at school who always tries to be a trendsetter with his hair. Last week he was wearing an Afro-shag-mullet.”
    I broke into laughter. “Wow, that’s funny.”
    â€œYeah, I’ve heard crazy stories about Roland…Both of his parents were sent to mental institutions. So in my opinion I don’t think the brother is playing with a full deck of cards, if you know what I mean.”
    â€œYeah, as my grandmother would say, I catch your drift,” I said. “So what are the rest of the students at the school like?”
    â€œProbably like any other school. You’ve got your nerds, your thugs, your freaks, the weed smokers, weirdos, popular people, jocks and beautiful people of the world like me.” Lori pointed to herself and smiled.
    â€œOkay,” I said as I tried to process all of that.
    â€œI’ll tell you what. Since I sort of know you from my dad’s neighborhood, I’ll be nice and show you around. Just don’t act like you and I are seeing each other on the sly because I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”
    â€œTrust me, girlfriend. I am just not that into you,” I said, setting the record straight.
    â€œWell, not yet anyway. But once you see me in one of my freakum dresses, you’ll be drooling over me just like the rest of the boys at school,” she stated with confident cockiness. I laughed mockingly at her.
    â€œOh, my, don’t you have an excessively high opinion of yourself? You’re a little conceited, don’t you think?” I said.
    â€œNo, I don’t think I’m stuck-up. Why do guys always think a confident woman is a threat? Never mind. I really don’t want to hear your answer. Anyway, moving on—I live three doors down in the blue house.” Lori reached into her purse, dropped the nail file and removed an inkpen and a small writing pad. “Here is my phone number. Send me a text message once you’ve registered for all of your classes and we’ll go from there.”
    â€œOkay,” I answered as she ripped a page from the notepad and handed it to me.
    I didn’t plan on ever talking to Lori again because she was a little too over-the-top for me. Once I’d registered for school the next day I didn’t bother sending her a text message because I was able to find my way around the school fairly easily. Although I will admit I did get lost once, but the teacher cut me some slack since I was new.
    When the dismissal bell rang, I hustled to my assigned locker to grab my coat and my social studies book. The first class my guidance counselor gave me was social studies with Mr. Alexander.