Disclaimer: We do not own Twilight or Sixteen Candles. We're only playing with the characters, brilliant scenarios, and words of their creators. The unique combination of those three belongs to us. *phone rings* 1984 is calling...
Chapter 1 - Cruel Summer
"Nope. No change. I swear my boobs are the same size as they were when school got out. Nothing I did over the summer worked. I mean, I always eat healthy foods, but I even exercised this year!"
Standing in my bedroom, looking at my reflection in the full-length mirror that hangs on the wall, my eyes focus on my chest. After staring at my non-existent bust for a few more seconds, my eyes travel to my face, making me notice the pout on my face. I don't look 18; I look 8.
"You know, Bells, laying out by your parents' pool all day doesn't exactly count as exercise," my friend Jessica sneers.
I roll my eyes even though she can't see me and let out a loud huff into the phone.
"Did you try massage?" Jessica asks.
"Of course. I get a massage once a month, Jess, you know that."
"No, I mean, massaging your boobs, whore. Lauren swears that's how her tits grew so quickly."
"Oh, for sure, Jess! That's because Lauren lets every guy at the Country Club massage them for her!" I look at myself again in the mirror and push my boobs together, trying to make something that resembles cleavage.
"I wonder if taping them together would help. I mean, I would totally stuff my bra, but then what will happen when I finally make it to 2nd base? I would just die!"
"Bella, don't sweat it. If they don't grow in before college, just ask your dad to buy you some fake ones!"
"Yeah, that is so not a conversation I want to have with my dad, Jess! But, I mean, it is my birthday today, maybe he'll give me a boob job as a present!" Yeah, right. My dad spoils me to the max but I don't believe for a second that he will gift me with plastic surgery any time soon.
"Ok, Jess, I gotta go. My parents are probably spazzing out waiting to wish me 'happy birthday' and all that shit. I'll see you at school!"
I get dressed in a short khaki skirt, soft pink polo shirt, and loafers before I slip a head band through my hair. Allowing myself one last look in the mirror, I critique my appearance. It's my job as a "Richie" to look my best, kind of like a public service. I'm pretty. Some people even say I'm very pretty, in fact. My thick, brown hair falls past my shoulders in long waves and my smudged eyeliner makes my chocolate-brown eyes pop. Slicking cherry lip gloss over my full lips officially means I am ready to be seen, but I take one more look at my chest and sigh. Hopefully, one day soon I will look more like a woman and less like a stick figure, but for now I am happy knowing that, even without boobs, I am the most popular girl in my school.
After grabbing my purse and school bag, I slowly walk down the stairs and into the kitchen. I pour myself a glass of orange juice and begin peeling the skin of a banana off, when I hear them.
My parents have fought for as long as I can remember, but here lately, it has gotten worse. Rather than saving their fights for the evenings, like they used to do, they now fight every time they are in the same room. I just need to ignore the yelling and bickering long enough to graduate high school.
Their voices have quieted, but I know my mother is close to the kitchen from the click-clacking of her heels getting louder. As she enters the room, putting her 3-carat diamond earrings in, she lets out a little gasp when she sees me.
"Oh! Good morning, Dear. You're not eating toast for breakfast, are you", she asks as she glances at my banana. My mother is deathly afraid of bread. She believes one tiny bite of any bread product will cause weight gain, cellulite, and zits. I think she'd even blame her stock values going down on bread. It is because of this irrational fear that anything with wheat isn't allowed in the house, which makes her accusation that much more ridiculous.
"No, Mom. This is a banana. You know, fruit? Duh!" I don't even try to hide my sarcasm or my eye roll. It doesn't matter anyway. She doesn't even acknowledge my words, as she strides past me to fill her coffee cup.
When looking at my mother, Renee, you'd assume she has an important job in which she earns a very impressive salary. She is dressed impeccably in her tweed skirt, silk blouse, and pearls. Her French-twist styled hair and seductive makeup could be featured in any top magazine. The truth is, Renee has never worked a day in her life. Her look is the perfect embodiment of "I may not have a dime to my name or any life skills, but I'm still better than you are". I have no idea how she really spends her days, but she is away from the house longer than I am most of the time.
"Isabella, your father and I have a dinner party to attend this evening. I trust you will be able to feed yourself?"
This surprises me. My parents are douches, but they always spoil me on my birthday. I assumed we'd be going out to eat to celebrate tonight, but I guess I was wrong...unless they are planning some sort of surprise for me, which would totally make sense. I mean, it is my 18th birthday, after all. They, like, have to do something majorly special for me. They gave me my BMW when I turned 16, so this year should be bonus. Maybe they'll give me a cruise or a trip to Europe. That would be pretty cool. So, for now, I'll play along and pretend to be surprised.
"For sure, Mom. It's great that you and Dad are going out. I'll be fine here all by myself, I promise. Is that all?" Like, are you going to wish your only child 'happy birthday'?
She spins to look at me, and after all these years of wearing the same damn hair style, I am still surprised that not one freaking hair is out of place. "What exactly do you mean 'is that all'? Are you expecting something else?"
"Well, no, Mom. I was just wondering if you had anything else to say to me before I left for school. You know, instructions for tonight or anything?" I put a special emphasis on that last part of my question, insinuating that she should have something else to say.
Renee places her coffee cup in the sink and grabs her purse, before looking back at me. "Darling, you've been home by yourself many times and have done just fine. I don't think there is anything left to say about tonight, okay? Now, please, don't pout about missing dinner with us. We can go out this weekend, alright?"
Before I can respond, she is out of the house in a flash.
"Why the long face, Kitten?"
I look over my shoulder to see my dad reaching into the very back of the pantry. When he finally comes out, he is holding a box of pop tarts.
"What the hell, Dad? You're hiding food from Mom? I don't know why you don't just eat it in front of her...she's always pissed at you anyway."
He shrugs and says, "I'm saving it for when we have a really big fight."
Charlie, my dad, is a nice guy. Clueless, but nice. He was born into money and has made his own money, so this lifestyle is all he knows. He's one of those guys that is very smart, but has little to no common sense. He has always lived a sheltered life and has raised me the same way. We are different, though, in that he is content to be sheltered. I am not.
I throw away my trash and retouch my lipstick. "I don't know why you and Mom are still married. Do you even love her anymore?"
"Sure, Bella, I still love your mother. We may not get along well but, I figure, it's cheaper to stay married than to divorce her at this point. Besides, she looks great and makes me look good and I don't think that's such a bad thing."
I can't believe these are my role models for a healthy marriage.
"Well, have fun at dinner tonight, Dad."
"Oh, yeah, I had forgotten about that. It's not like we had anything else to do tonight. I'll see you tomorrow, Honey." He kisses the top of my head and walks out of the door.
I can't believe it. Both of my parents forgot my fucking birthday.
Ridgemont High School is a well-established and very large campus. Because it's located in the thriving upper class Chicago suburb of Shermer, it's never without the latest equipment and textbooks and it's lawns are always impeccable. It resembles more of a small university or private school, but because of Shermer's recent rezoning policies, it houses, not only, the richest students, but some of the poorest, as well.
Not that it really matters, though. Social classes do not intermingle here. I guess you could say that "Ridge High" is a very diverse institution; every type of group is accounted for. There are Dorks and Dweebs, Potheads and Thugs, Geeks, Loners, and Wannabes. The Jocks are next to the top and include students of varying economic status, but because of how highly they are looked upon by the community, they are allowed to hang with the Richies. That's my group, of course, and because it is my senior year, I am officially the queen.
If I had to name the king of the Richies, it would be Emmett Cullen. Of course, he has money, but it's his ability to get along with all of the different groups that makes him our natural leader. I mean, seriously, everyone in this school, including the staff, love him and are constantly kissing his ass. The boy can do no wrong, and basically, gets away with murder, which makes for some majorly fun times.
The amazing thing about Emmett, though, is that he isn't a jerk. He's actually really nice and just wants to have a good time. He's very tall and well-built, but not exactly athletic. He always has a smile on his face, showing off his deep dimples, and his dark hair emphasizes his olive green eyes very well. Every guy wants to hang out with him and every girl wants to date him. And many of the girls here have. People outside of our social circle like to assume Emmett and I are sometimes a couple, but we've never gone out. We've been friends all of our lives and I love him like a brother, that's all.
The second most popular guy in our clique is Jasper Whitlock. Jasper comes from an upper-middle class family, but is an All-Star athlete to the max. He's great in every sport, but mostly focuses on track so that he can get a great scholarship for college. He and Emmett are best friends, along with myself, but they couldn't be more different. Jasper is also tall, but is lanky compared to Emmett's brawn, and he wears his dirty-blonde hair long and shaggy. Jasper is also the only guy I've ever gone out with, but after a handful of dates and two very awkward kisses, we decided we were better off as friends.
Rounding out the Richies are Eric, Mike, and Tyler for the boys and my closest girlfriends, Jessica, Mallory, Lauren, and Jane. Truthfully, they are all typical and generic, and I seriously doubt I keep in touch with any of them after high school. I know that makes me sound like a bitch, but I've been forced to be their friend for years now and I think, maybe, I am in need of a change. Unfortunately, it won't happen until I graduate.
As I walk from the parking lot to the front door, holding my Trapper Keeper tightly against my chest, I see Emmett and Jasper exiting the front office.
"Good morning, Losers! Being sent to the principal's office before school starts, I see. Isn't that, like, a record or something, even for you two?"
"Ha ha, BellaDonna. For your information, we were just dropping off some very important papers for Mrs. Cope," Emmett answers, trying to sound innocent. I'm so not falling for it.
"Uh huh. What else did you do in there?"
"Put it this way, Bells, if you ever hear about Principal Banner's office supplies being glued to his desk, just say you know nothing," Jasper says, laughing.
I roll my eyes and laugh. "You two are such boneheads! It's a good thing you're popular! No one else can get away with that shit!"
Emmett wraps his arm around my shoulder, as we start walking. "Hey, it would be a public disservice not to abuse our power, right, Jas?"
"You are absolutely correct, my man. Hey, maybe I can use that on my college applications! See you dudes later!"
Emmett and I both give Jasper a little wave as he heads to his first class, before we are joined by a few other members of our clique. Jessica quickly pulls me off to the side and asks, "Well? What did your parents give you for your birthday? Tell me, Bella! I'm dying to know!"
I glance around, making sure no one else is listening then whisper, "They didn't give me anything, Jess. They didn't even wish me a happy birthday! Plus, they are going to a dinner party tonight without me! I mean, what the hell, right?"
"No way! That is brutal! I'd freak out if my parents forgot my birthday, for sure."
I want to pout and feel sorry for myself, but as a role model in this school, I must remain cool.
"I really think they are setting me up for a surprise party, you know? So, I have to pretend to be upset now so that they think I'm really surprised at the party they throw for me."
Jessica clicks her tongue just before saying, "Duh! Of course, that's what they are doing! It makes perfect sense. Trust me, I won't let them know that the secret is out."
"Thanks, Jessica." I force a smile.
My morning classes fly by as usual and soon the girls and I are heading towards the cafeteria for lunch. When we walk together, we always stretch out in a line, walking side by side to take up the entire hallway. Of course, the other students automatically step aside and let us by. It's expected of them.
What isn't expected is what I see when I enter the lunchroom.
There is a massive banner hanging on one of the walls that says "Happy Birthday, Bella Swan!" and balloons are floating all around the room. When I get to the Richies' table, I see a cake with 18 candles on it all lit up for me. There are even some presents on the table, and when I look up and see the smiling faces of Emmett and Jasper, I know they were the masterminds behind my party.
Even though my parents are assholes and forgot my birthday, I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. Knowing that my friends really care about me softens the blow.
Jenny Kate: Well, here we are again...well, not technically "here". I mean, we're definitely not in the South and it's like not even 2012.
Jiff: What the hell are you talking about, JK?
Jenny Kate: DUH! The story...those words up there that we just posted! It's 1984 and it's Chicago...long ways from where we were the last go around.
Jiff: Ahhh...gotcha! So, how is everyone? We hope you are as excited about this story as we are! This is NOT SoCo in any way, okay? It's very different and will be fairly quick so, we hope you stick with us!
Jenny Kate: We promise no heavy angst. If you feel like flouncing, just stick around, because the next chapter might change your mind! We'll be posting a chapter every week day until it's complete! So, even if you're not usually a WIP kind of person, you should still be ok!
Jiff: This fic is very special to us because we grew up watching John Hughes' movies and love everything to do with the 80's! Well, except, maybe, parachute pants...
Jenny Kate: Speak for yourself! I'm wearing mine right now...ok, not really, but only because my mom made me sell them in a garage sell in 1996 when I was leaving for college. I asked her today if she had seen my crimper around anywhere lately. She just looked at me funny and felt my forehead.
Jiff: I had a crimper, too! I also had black parachute pants that I loved but my mom once bought me green ones and I NEVER wore them. I remember my cousin telling my aunt that he wasn't going to eat until he got some of those pants! LOL
Jenny Kate: SHUT UP! My favorite pair of parachute pants were these army green ones!
Jiff: No, Honey, these were bright freakin green! I had no idea what to wear with them!
Jenny Kate: Did you guys ever wear parachute pants? Jelly shoes? Big bangs? Crimped hair? Tell us in the reviews! We'd love to hear what you loved about the 80's! Hope you'll stick around to find out more about Bella and the Richies.
Jiff: This is un-beta'd, with the exception of my husband reading, so all mistakes are ours. See ya tomorrow!