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Planet High School

  Copyright 2013 Mia Rodriguez

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  Dedication

  This story is for all those young adults wanting to create a better world.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  More, More, More

  Preface

  I'd be lying if I said I'm not a little nervous. Well, actually I'm a lot nervous. As my Crazy Aunt Letty starts speaking at my first meeting of my new club, Teens for a Better World, I try not to cringe. My aunt has her own weird way of looking at things, and sometimes she freaks people out. But as more and more words start tumbling out of her mouth, I start to relax even though I know I'll be in a ton of trouble with the school's administrators.

  Crazy Aunt Letty's earth shattering speech:

  Don’t expect me to sugar coat things because I'm not going to do it. Don’t expect me to B.S. because I don't B.S. Let the chips fall where they may.

  I’d like to apologize to you—the youth. This is an apology from an adult to the young. I'm sorry we messed up the world big time for you. Yes, I'm admitting that we are most of the problem and not you as you have been led to believe. Yes, I know how your generation isn’t ‘supposedly’ as bright as my baby boomer generation as we weren’t ‘supposedly’ as great as the one before us and so on and so on. It's silly to believe that you're behind us in intelligence because we usually have to depend on you to help us work technology. It's silly to believe that you're the problem when we're the adults—the ones who have allowed the world to become the mess it is.

  I’m sorry.

  We failed you.

  That’s the simple truth. We failed miserably at building you a better world. Very, very, miserably! I am attacked with nausea and shame when I think about the legacy we’re leaving you—wars, intolerance, bigotry, hatred. I’m getting too depressed to mention any more tragedies. We, as a humanity, have been on earth too long to still be dealing with the same things over and over again and not learning from our mistakes.

  Yes, we’re morons.

  Many of our politicians who are supposed to be public servants would rather be looking after their own interests and agendas—their own little block of power. Of course they do a great job at double talk to convince us otherwise than to fix what needs to get fixed. Hey, they may even believe that B.S. they spread around so freely. There’s a saying in Spanish about believing your own lies—se cree sus propias mentiras. These leaders are supposed to be part of the smart generations?—the ones so much better than yours?

  Really?

  I don’t think so.

  I know how much you’re told that you’re not good enough, smart enough, and able enough. You’re supposed to be lazy, promiscuous, and unfeeling.

  But I see a lot in you that my generation and even the ones before it didn’t do well with. Your ease with technology is incredible. All that stuff just makes a mush out of my head.

  Also, your generation seems a lot, A LOT, more tolerant than we ever were. You’d think that because the civil rights movement took place during my lifetime, that my generation would’ve done away with the mine, mine, mine—much more superior than yours! But it’s really your generation that shines in the department of sharing instead of shutting all the doors and windows to the soul. You with your internet and ability to connect with almost anyone in this world. Usually movies and other entertainment about your experience include different cultures very comfortably and not as a tag on like ours did—if it did it at all. Your lines of space are blurred unlike our heavily marked ones.

  All throughout the world, you, with the help of some of us more enlightened elders, are challenging totalitarian regimes, outdated ideas, ferocious greed, and power hungry abusers.

  “ENOUGH!” you insist.

  I know how much of a cliché it is to say, “You are our future.” But it’s such an enormous truth that it should be repeated again and again. Because we adults couldn’t do better, this mess of a world will slide into your hands—painfully limping, gravely ill, and horrifyingly explosive.

  Again, I apologize profoundly.

  And I believe with all sincerity that you have the capabilities to climb out of your tiny, claustrophobic space, unlike us for the most part, and fix it. You've got in your hands the ability and heart to be better than us, smarter than us, and much more proactive at making the world a better place. Don't let anyone tell you that you don't have it. The future survival of our planet is in your hands.

  End of Speech. Stunned silence. Then—

  APPLAUSE, APPLAUSE, APPLAUSE. Students get on their feet with rabid excitement as they vigorously clap their hands together.

  I breathe out a very, very long breath of relief.

  I know I'm in trouble with the school administrators, but that's okay.

  Thinking back at how my road here began brings a smile to my lips. Weirdly enough, it started with unrequited love. Impossible love. Painful love.

  Here's the story . . .

  Chapter 1

  Being in love with someone who can never love you back is truly pathetic. I look in the mirror every day and tell myself those words over and over again. They flip off my tongue in nasty shame and puking disgust.

  I hate being pathetic.

  Yet, there is something special and pure about a love that doesn't expect anything back. A love that has grown every single year it's been discovered. A love that overwhelms me at times.

  Still, my pride yells and scolds me with the pathetic factor of my feelings for an impossible love.

  But, I can't help it.

  I love Benjamin. I have for so long that I can hardly remember not caring about him. And I'm scared...scared with everything inside me...that I will always feel the same way about him.

  Benjamin and his family have been gone the whole summer. I hate that I’m so conscious of this, that every time I step outside I automatically look to see if my next door neighbor is back.

  Keeping the secret of my pathetic love is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. With our parents hating each other like they do, and with him not noticing I'm alive, I've had to keep an airtight lid on my treacherous feelings. Benjamin doesn't have even a tiny inkling that I love him.

  And he never will if I can help it.

  I have my pride.

  Walking past his two-story rambling hou
se, I head to my best friend's home where we're going to meet with our other best friend. There are three of us teens. Young adults. Adolescents in the middle of what's very peculiar—teenland.

  I keep my eyes away from Benjamin's room that's located upstairs in the front. I've often seen him working on his laptop at his desk with the window open. Let me make this clear that I'm not a stalker. I don't follow him around or even spend long periods looking out my own window to gaze at him. That would truly be mega-pathetic, and there is only so much pathetic-ness I'll allow in myself. I do, however, sometimes catch him as I'm walking to my best friend's home next door to his.

  Benjamin's residence is eerily quiet. Of course it is. No one's home. Still, it looks quite lived in. It's one of those old, drafty homes and was painted a cheery sky blue color to make it come alive. I love it—it's a house with character. My own home is a large, two-story red brick home that over the years my father practically re-built himself. My father owns a construction company and makes sure our home is up to par at all times with nothing broken, worn looking, or even tattered at all. Benjamin's parents, on the other hand, don't mind an imperfect home. They're both lawyers and could've moved out of the middle class neighborhood into an upper class one a long time ago, but they barely make ends meet since they do a lot of pro-bono cases. I wish our folks would get along since I really admire his parents. Choosing to help others instead of benefiting yourselves—well, that's quite awesome in my opinion!

  When I arrive at Suzy's house, I quickly press her doorbell. Lorena opens the door. "Hey," she chirps. Her green eyes shine on her heart-shaped, light toned face. Her short, curly, light-brown hair is bouncy as always.

  "Hiya." It doesn't surprise me that Lorena got to Suzy's home before I did. Lorena arrives everywhere at least ten minutes early. While I don't like to be late, I usually get to places with only a few minutes to spare. I say hello to Suzy's parents as Lorena and I walk to Suzy's bedroom. Our neighborhood is a pretty tight neighborhood and our parents know each other. My parents are friends with the Smiths and also with Lorena's family the Sifuenteses.

  Suzy is sitting on her bed as we get there. Her room is done up in different shades of pink. Her blue eyes are beaming on her pretty face. Her long blonde hair is in a ponytail, and she wears her favorite pink shorts with a frilly white blouse.

  "I'm so excited," Suzy pops out.

  "What's so exciting?" I ask as Lorena and I sit next to her.

  "My parents have agreed to pay for cheerleading lessons! This year I'm going to make it in!"

  "Wow, Suzy!" exclaims Lorena. "That's awesome! Really awesome."

  "Congratulations," I say. Suzy had moved into the neighborhood when we were children and ever since I had known her, she had dreamed of being a cheerleader. She had tried out several times but had never made it. Her parents don't have a lot of money, so paying for lessons must be a sacrifice for them.

  Suzy is beaming. "Why don't the both of you try to convince your parents of doing the same thing?"

  "Money is tight right now," murmurs Lorena with disconsolation.

  "I don't really want to ask them for cheerleading lessons," I state.

  "Zuria," she says my name with a snap, "your parents can afford it." She obviously means that my dad does well in his construction business. "And they'll do anything for you." My parents are pretty awesome people who dedicate everything they are and have to their children. I'm very lucky.

  "I don't really want to be a cheerleader," I explain.

  Suzy frowns. "Everybody wants to be a cheerleader," she snaps.

  It's impossible for her to believe that not everyone shares her dream. "Not me," I say firmly.

  "But—" Suzy starts to say.

  "Don't pin your hopes and dreams on me," I blurt. My Aunt Letty would say it all the time when people tried to make her fit into their box. It seems appropriate for me to blurt it out now.

  "I'd love to be a cheerleader," murmurs Lorena with anguish in her voice. "I just wish my parents could afford the lessons."

  Suzy's puzzled eyes leave me and shift over to Lorena. "Don't worry, my BFF number one, I'll teach you what the cheerleading coach teaches me." I'm BFF number two since we use the numbers in accordance to when we met each other. Lorena had met Suzy before I did.

  "Thank you," gushes Lorena with a sparkle in her eyes. "I owe you big time."

  "What are friends for?" Suzy murmurs, her punctured eyes on me.

  Chapter 2

  After spending a few hours at Suzy's house, talking about our upcoming junior school year at Tierra High School, I sigh as I walk home. They’re so excited about possibly making the cheerleading squad and participating in all the in-group activities because once they are in cheerleading, it’ll be like a key to the popular teen's world. I have very little use for that. Maybe I am my favorite aunt's niece after all. Aunt Letty hates the idea of exclusivity. She'd never in a million years join a country club or belong to anything that keeps people out because of supposed superiority. She had once told me she still remembered some of the civil rights movement in vivid and personal detail and all the racism she had seen and experienced..

  Passing by Benjamin's quiet house, my eyes automatically shift to it as if they don't have a will of their own. Yes, I know. Pathetic.

  Why I love him when he’s part of the in-group, I don't know? All I can say is that my heart is treacherous. But I will say that Benjamin isn't a snob like some of them in that click are. He’s the most valuable player in the basketball team, the boyfriend of the head cheerleader, and everyone in school knows his name, but he never lords who he is over anybody. In fact, he’s the quiet type. It's very difficult to guess what's going on beyond those hazel eyes of his.

  Maybe that's why I love him. He's nice despite his popularity.

  It's too bad our parents hate each other like they do. And for something very silly. Benjamin's dad had borrowed the water hose and had never returned it. My dad is a pretty nice guy, but don't mess with his lawn. He takes pride in always either winning or being a finalist for the best lawn in the neighborhood every month. Dad declared Mr. Quintanilla public enemy number one when he hadn't returned the hose.

  To be enemies for something so silly, I sigh. It doesn't make sense.

  As I enter my house, my mother meets up with me. "Zuria, how was your visit with your little friends?" she inquires with enthusiasm.

  My mother is in her late forties, so anyone under the age of twenty-five is a little kid. The doctor had told her that she couldn't have children so when I came along and then my twin sisters, she makes sure to thank God every day for it. Literally. Not a day goes by when her prayers aren't full of gratitude.

  "Great but..." I murmur.

  Her eyebrows shoot up. "But what?"

  "Suzy and Lorena are obsessed with being cheerleaders this year. Suzy is taking lessons."

  "Do you want to take lessons?" she questions. "Just get me the number of the cheerleading coach—"

  "No, Mom, I don't want to be a cheerleader."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, Mom."

  "Okay, but just tell me if you change your mind."

  "Thanks, Mom," I say as I start climbing the stairs to my bedroom. I had to stop my parents from spoiling us. Both had grown up very poor, so they sometimes overdo it with their children. I have to stop them from getting my sisters and me too many things. My sisters often call me Ms. Meanie Weenie Witch, but that's okay. I know I'm doing right not letting them take advantage of my parents' soft hearts. My Aunt Letty tells me I was born old and tells me she's proud of me. To get a compliment from her is just about the highest honor to have. My favorite aunt is the most awesome person I know, and she doesn't suffer fools gladly, nor does she bestow compliments easily.

  As I step into my pretty bedroom with a lilac bed covering, and cream furniture, I smile. I love my room. When I open the frilly beige c
urtains, light tumbles in and illuminates my space. There's so much ugliness in the world. It's a blessing to have a lovely place to park myself every day.

  Powering on my laptop, I check that I'm ready for the new school year to start on Monday. It's Friday, only a few days of summer vacation left. Going down my list of school necessities, I find that I'm one hundred percent ready.

  I had already done my clothes and supply shopping. Organization is a big deal to me. Nothing fills me with horror more than not being prepared for something. I even organized my sisters since my mom is kinda scattered.

  Being ready, I debate whether to watch TV or read a book. When I start school, I won't have a lot of free time for either. I decide to read a book strictly for funzies. There will be plenty of time in College Prep English to read literature. Right now I just want to read for entertainment, so I start re-reading The Hunger Games. Katniss Everdeen is my hero. I had already read the trilogy, but decide it's time for another looksie. I find that the second time I read a novel, I catch a lot of stuff I missed the first time.

  Katniss immediately captures my whole attention. She, her sister's ugly cat, and her very difficult life. I'm sooo lucky, I tell myself as I look around my pretty bedroom with modern gadgets like a large flat screen T.V., a touch screen laptop, a tablet, and a smartphone. If I want food all I have to do is go downstairs and open the refrigerator. My parents always keep it well stocked. Our electricity always works. Money is never a problem for our basic necessities and more.

  Katniss, on the other hand, has to scratch out a living for her family and herself. My Aunt Letty tells me that that's the way it is in much of the world where young people have to work hard to help their families stay alive. Even in our own wealthy country, it's like that for a lot of people. Poverty is alive and well in every nation.

  H-m-m-m. Something to think about.

  This is why I admire Benjamin's parents so much in doing so much pro-bono work as lawyers. They’re good people despite what my dad says about them.

  "Thieves," he calls them for not returning the hose.

  "Maybe they just forgot," I have tried to tell him.

  "No, they did it on purpose, so I wouldn't win best lawn that month!" he declared.

  I seriously doubt that Benjamin's parents care if my dad wins best lawn. It seems to me that they have greater things to worry about like justice for their clients and stuff like that. But my dad insists he's right, and no one can get that thought out of his head.