GOOD GIRL
Chapter 1
Marissa Campbell
I guess I'm your average seventeen year old girl. I attend high school, am semi infatuated with the male species, have problems with my parents, and I love to shop. That about sums me up I think. I mean I'm not too complex. I love ice cream and Italian food; I have a select group of friends who I trust completely while there are people that I wouldn't chill with if my life depended on it. Oh! I forgot an important description of myself that everyone seems to categorize me as and that's a Good Girl.
Most people assume that I'm a good girl because I'm quiet and keep my business to myself. I'm one of the few girls in my school who people can't really say anything negative about. Sure, there are those who call me out my name but that's because I'm a no bullshit type of chick. I don't hang around fake people and don't deal with fake people. I have a low tolerance for ignorance and stupidity so naturally there is a good amount of people who don't like me. That doesn't bother me though. I was raised by two parents who brought me up to be confident and to hold myself as a woman. Girls assume that just because they pass a legal age that they are automatically a woman but that isn't so. Shit, I've seen thirty year old women acting childish in the street. Turning a certain age does nothing for your mentality and that's how so many females end up with the reputations they have. Trying to be grown but not knowing that their belief of grown is only a state of mind. You don't become grown by fucking men or by saying you’re grown. You become grown when you handle your own business and don't have to answer to anyone.
See I'm not as innocent as people think I am. I curse, I hang out, I'm not even a virgin but the difference between me and the other females in my school is that I keep my personal life just that. I don't feel the need to broadcast the fact that I'm sexually active and any guy that I have been with know how to keep their mouths shut. I also know how to act when I'm in public. While out and about I hold myself in a manner becoming of a lady and while I'm out with my friends, if the moment hit me, I might use a little profanity here and there. I'd like to think that I'm well rounded. That I was raised right and because of that I know how to act in any situation.
Even though my parents are doctors and are well respected in their field, that hadn't always been the case. My mother grew up in a rugged part of Baltimore while my father grew up in posh surroundings in California. They met while attending VCU and have been together since but their knowledge of both sides of the spectrum allowed me to get a wide range perspective and even though they got on my nerves most of the time I was happy that they were my parents because they loved me, would have my back through whatever, and were able to teach me things I needed to know to flourish.
My alarm clock went off promptly at five thirty in the morning and I pressed the off button before yawning and pulling myself from my bed. I slipped the thin strap of my silk slip over my shoulder before I began to make my bed. With that done I headed into my private bathroom and turned on my shower water before spreading toothpaste over my toothbrush and going through the motions of cleansing my teeth. With that done I covered my hair with a shower cap and pulled off my slip and positioned myself under the hot spray of water. I cleansed myself using my lavender scented shower gel before I left my bathroom and headed back into my bedroom.
I towel dried my body before I grabbed my lavender scented shea butter body cream and proceeded to smooth the cream over my body. With that done I grabbed my invisible solid Dove deodorant and rolled it on. With that done I grabbed my white and yellow accented lace demi bra and matching thong set and pulled it on. I adjusted my bra straps before I headed over to my jewelry box and pulled out my gold diamond drop belly ring and fastened it through the skin just above my belly button. With that done I grabbed a pair of low rise denim jeans and pulled them on, fastening them securely before pulling on my white blazer. I buttoned the gold buttons before I slipped my perfectly painted toes into my white Versace wedge heels.
I headed over to my vanity and promptly parted my hair and put the top of it in a high ponytail, leaving two tendrils out to frame my face, and left the back out. I combed my hair so that it was tangle free then plugged up my curling iron before I meticulously applied my make up while I waited for the curler to heat. I grabbed my Urban FX liquid eye liner and painted a thin lid over my eyelids before I grabbed my Maxim mascara and brushed it over my long lashes. The liner sparkled lightly, bringing attention to her warm chocolate eyes, while the mascara made my lashes thicker. With that done I grabbed my brown creamy lip liner and carefully traced the curvaceous lines of my lips before I grabbed my brownie shade of my Lancôme Juicy Rouge lipstick and smoothed it over my full lips. I blotted and wiped away any excess color before I picked up the now warm curler and started to curl the ends of her hair.
Once I was done primping I grabbed my Live perfume and sprayed it into the air before walking through the scented mist. I clipped in my earrings and fastened my white Versace watch around my wrist before giving myself a quick once over. With that done I grabbed my white Versace purse and tossed my TI-83 Plus into it as well as my gloss, keys, hand lotion, and pens before I left my bedroom and headed down to the kitchen. My parents were already sitting at the table enjoying their eggs and bacon. I kissed them both briefly on the cheek before grabbing a bottle of Evian from the fridge and a huge blueberry muffin from the counter. I popped the muffin in the microwave for fifteen seconds before wrapping it in a paper towel and leaving the house through the side door that would lead me to the garage.
I pressed the button on the wall so that the garage doors would go up before I grabbed my keys out of my purse and popped the alarm on the car before opening the door to the driver's side and sliding onto my leather seats. I placed my Evian in a cup holder before tossing my purse onto the passenger seat before I slipped my key in the ignition and turned on the car. I placed my foot over the break and switched gears before backing out of my garage and driving off to school, munching on my muffin the whole way.
I had just finished my muffin when I pulled into the student parking lot. I parked my car in my regular spot before taking a swig of my water and climbing out of my car. I slung my purse over my shoulder and popped my alarm before walking through the entrance of the school and made my way to the cafeteria and headed to my usual table where O'Ryan, my best friend, and our friends sat every morning. As I walked over to the table a couple of the girls sitting there started looking at me in dislike but I just brushed them off like the haters they were and took my seat by O'Ryan and gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek.
"What's up Rissa?" he asked as he slung his arm around my shoulder.
"Not a thing," I replied as I crossed my legs.
"Ooh, those are cute girl," Whitley, O'Ryan on-again-off-again girlfriend.
"Thank's Whit," I replied.
"Where did you get them from?" she asked looking closely at my shoes.
"Saks," I replied.
"Word? I may have to roll through and see what they have in," she replied as she stood up and smoothed her sweater over her low rise jeans and headed over to the vending machines, her heels clicking on the tiled floor along the way.
"You can't speak? I know your parents taught you better than that," Omari's irritating voice said from across the table.
"Good morning Omari," I replied with the roll of my eyes.
"Damn," he replied, "Don't act like you're doing me any favors."
With that said he stood and headed over to the table he normally sat at with his friends. O'Ryan went to dump his tray in the garbage and my girl Christina plopped down in his empty seat.
"Why don't you talk to Omari? He's fine as hell and you know he likes you," she replied as she pulled the side of her jeans out of her boots.
"Please," I said with a roll of my eyes, "Omari does not like me. He only wants me because he can't have me."
"See, that's where you're wrong," Omari's voice said from behind me. I turned around to face him and he smirked when our eyes connected. He lifted his right hand and gently ran the back of his hand over my cheek before saying, "I can have you if I want you."
The bell rung and I pushed his hand off of me as I stood and said, "You keep thinking that if it’s what gets you through your day."
Christina laughed and smoothed her graphic tank over her jeans. She grabbed her notebook and we walked out of the cafeteria and headed to our first period class.
I was in my advanced math class doing my Pre-Calculus work when the fire alarm went off. I flipped my test sheet over before standing, grabbing my purse, and leaving the class. I headed out the designated door and headed to the bleachers that were a few yards away from the school. I walked down to the very front of the bleachers hoping to be able to avoid Omari because I ended up sitting next to him more times than I'd want to admit.
More and more students started making their way out and began filling up the available space on the bleachers but for some reason no one would sit next to me. I was starting to wonder why when Omari's cocky behind plopped his ass right next to me.
"So we meet again Rissa?" Omari asked with a smile on his face that almost made me week in the knees. I quickly dissipated the feeling as I let what he just said sink in.
"I guess so," I replied in a bored tone.
"Why you always have to play hard to get?" Omari asked me as if he was sparking a noncommittal conversation.
"Has it ever passed your mind that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't playing?" I asked him, silently wishing that the bell to return back to the building would ring.
"Why are you playin' me? I mean damn, a nigga would think that I was ugly or some type of abuser with the way you be dodging me. What’s up with you?” Omari asked.
"Do you really want to know?" I asked him.
"I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t want to know,” Omari replied in the same confident tone, thinking that no one could justifiably resist him.
"Because you’ve had more girls than a pimp has hoes and besides…” I said, pausing for the effect, “I’m too good for you.”
It seemed as though that was the signal because the bell rung. I arose from my seat and made my way up the stairs, leaving behind a flabbergasted Omari who was still sitting in the stands and I cascaded up the bleachers.
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