My Awkward Phase

My Awkward Phase
©Alexandra Rios 2019

The greatest lie is that what happens in high school doesn't matter, because life begins in college. I pretended to agree, although I never believed it, for I was the world's greatest liar.
Wannabees
I was hanging out with my friends Quinn, Barb and Anne in the Newspaper Office, our refuge at University High in Los Angeles.
A group of scantily clad Britney wannabees passed by, giggling inanely. I affected a haughty gaze but memorized their accessories and gestures. They ignored me, but my friend Quinn noticed my rapture.
“Having a Zen moment over that flock of mindless chicks?”
“Eye candy relieves my boredom.”
“Eye candy rots brains like sugar rots teeth.”
“Not to worry, they’re fake as aspartame.’”
Quinn crumpled a sketch and tossed it over his shoulder.
“Then don’t imitate life, get one.”
“Life used to imitate art. Now it imitates celebrity, attains meaning only by analogies to tabloid dramas.”
“Get off your sugar high, dude. Like Descartes said, ‘I think, therefore I am.’”
I rolled my eyes.
“Now he’d say, 'I text, therefore I am'”.
Quinn fist-bumped me, and Anne glanced up from her nearly finished cartoon of a snake devouring a superhero.
"Alex, you put the ‘con’ into conformity.”
Barb was on a computer, laying out our school newspaper, the Wildcat.
“How’s this for my lead? ‘Homecoming, Sadie Hawkins, Spring Fling, and Prom, Four Course Feast of Fake Nostalgia for a Sketchy School.”
Anne passed her the drawing.
“Here’s your subtitle: ‘Rituals for jocks and their chicks to feign monogamy.’”
“Perfect segue: ‘So the Marlboro men and their Stepford wives can breed the next generation of Smurfs.’”
I nodded enthusiastic agreement. But my solidarity masked the dissonance I felt at their denunciations of male sexism and feminine submission.
Quinn sketched a caricature of Barb as Joan of Arc battling robotic football players.
“Everyone’s been reprogrammed. We are the only humans left in this zombie zone.”