What's In It For Me

What’s In It For
Me

Nelvie Soliven

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Nelvie
Soliven

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What's In It For Me

A teen novella

Written by Nelvie Soliven

What's In It For Me

2010

"Shakespeare's personal views as shown
on his writings," Mrs. Locks was dictating as she wrote the words
on the blackboard of our Advanced English Literature class. After
writing the sentence with an elegant script, she faced the class
and asked if we could share something about the topic. Several
hands shot up. She contemplated for a moment as if looking for the
perfect conversation starter. Now I know that has to be
me.

"This should be interesting," she said
when she finally decided the person to call, "Mr. Alleyn, tell us
your opinion." What?!

Andrew Jet Alleyn was perhaps the most
well-known overrated student in Greenvale. He holds several
positions in school. He was the student body president for two
years, the drama club president, a star quarterback in the school's
football team and a straight-A student. He also came from a
prominent family of academics, his father being a known surgeon and
her mom a celebrated journalist. If there is one person I hate even
more than William overrated-Shakespeare, that would be Andrew
Alleyn. He has been stealing all the attention since
Kindergarten.

"Shakespeare's works practically
focuses on the unpredictability of the people, of importance or
not," Andrew started, "he believes in the power of the human soul
to do great or malicious things -"

He was not quite finished speaking when
I shot my hand up. I, Kit Emerald Sherlock, am the most hardworking
straight-A student in Greenvale High. I have been working three
different day jobs (excluding professional babysitting service) to
save for the future and to buy myself some books. I am hailed as
the head of the debate team, president of the Ballet club and
editor of the school paper. I am also the holder of the second
highest GPA in the history of Greenvale high (the first being
Andrew Alleyn.Ugh).

Mrs. Locks noticed my ever so
enthusiastic hand and felt compelled to call me, so she did. Andrew
did not sit down, however; for he was used to this. I have been
opposing him since Kindergarten. Which is the same I could say for
him.

"He believes in the power of the male
soul, that is. He portrayed the females in his works as weak
creatures." I felt the words leave my mouth smoothly, as if I've
been born to expose Shakespeare's true dark nature to the
world.

Andrew turned to face me. He was
sitting two seats in front of me. "Are you saying that
Shakespeare's a misogynist? What about Lady Macbeth? She was not
weak."

I cannot believe this narrow-minded guy
was now defending Shakespeare. It's like my enemies turned up
against me and were BFFs suddenly. "Yes but she's evil," I was very
passionate with my words, "If a woman's not weak, she's evil. Now
don't you think he's a misogynist?"

Several heads nodded, mostly
girls'.

"You lost the presidency, Sherlock,"
Andrew changed the subject. He knew he wouldn't win in the
Shakespeare game. I am just so darn obsessed on hating
Shakespeare.

I was stunned for a moment, because
what he has said stung. "Only because the girls in this school
outnumber the boys 5 to 1," I shot back. That was very true,
though. I have been monitoring the school's student population
since my sophomore year.

"And what makes you think the minority
also known by the more common terminology the boys voted for you?"
Andrew was now smiling smugly. What a jerk. He thinks he's so cute
with that messy jet black hair of his and those sapphires he has
for eyes. Most of the girls in our small town of Greenvale fall for
that, but I'm not into those kinds of crap.

At this point Mrs. Locks was smart
enough to stop the bickering. The other students don't seem to
mind. We were always like this in every class we shared, which were
pretty much all advanced classes. Mrs. Locks calmly asked us to sit
down. She turned to the blackboard and wrote the lecture on the
smooth green surface.

"You are so not the valedictorian this
year," I muttered as I took my seat. Andrew Alleyn turned just so I
could see him mouth these three words: you wish Sherlock.
Jerk.

***

"I really can't believe you signed up
for this crap," my best friend Winona told me as we sat on a bench
located near the football field. Winona was in her usual goth
get-up. She was this
all-black-bite-anyone-who-looks-at-you-suspiciously kind of girl
and I liked her for it. I was (believe it or not) wearing a
cheerleader uniform in green and white. I had tied my burgundy red
hair in its usual ponytail.

"I can't let that Alleyn brat get more
extracurricular credits than me. I already lost the presidency two
freaking years in a row," I replied as-a-matter-of-factly and took
a sip from my juice box, "besides, this is a great workout
opportunity."

"You already have yoga," Winona was
saying with a mouthful of fries, "and ballet."

"Wins," I said as-a-matter-of-factly
"that's why I've such a hot bod."

Winona rolled her eyes in a manner that
is so Winona Richards.

"Gotta go," I took one last sip of
juice, forced the juice box on Winona's hands and ran towards a
group of cheerleaders. I was not really nervous auditioning for the
team, but I'm not really excited either. I don't even understand
why it was socially accepted (and even encouraged) to wear silly
garb and chant around enchanted voodoo spells to make your team win
the championships.

"You're lucky I chose to be your best
friend!" Winona shouted at me, and I abruptly stopped and looked
back. That was just Winona being herself.

"Last time I checked, there was no
line!" I shouted back laughingly and proceeded to the direction of
the cheerleaders.

The cheerleaders were giggling when I
approached. They were probably talking about shopping or getting
their nails done. Tara Olsen, the blond captain, noticed me and
stopped giggling. Her ladies-in-waiting stopped as well. I wondered
what spell Tara had put on them.

"Oh my God, I totally forgot about
auditions for today," Tara said, "fine, you're in."

I could swear my eyes were wide in
incredulity, "That's it?"

The other cheerleaders were looking at
each other then at Tara.

"Are you sure? I mean, she may not
handle the work," an olive-skinned cheerleader asked
Tara.

I suppressed a laugh. Now that was what
I call comedy. "I'm sure I can handle anything."

But it seemed like the cheerleaders
didn't hear me. They were absorbed in looking at something past
behind me. Mildly annoyed, I turned around. My annoyance turned
full-scale when I saw Andrew Alleyn running towards us. He removed
his helmet when he reached the group. His hair was wet with sweat.
Or was that water? Either way, it's gross.

"Hey ladies," he greeted the
cheerleaders with a smile, "Sherlock," he nodded at me. It was a
nod a man gives his arch nemesis. I was just that to Andrew
Alleyn.

Tara literally pushed me aside and put
her arms on Andrew's shoulders. Andrew inconspicuously removed
Tara's hand and turned to me, "Scavenging for much needed
extracurricular credit, Sherlock?"

I sneered as fiercely as I could, "I'm
just looking for ways to contribute to society," and narrowed my
eyes at him, "you would never ever relate to that,
Alleyn."

"She's one of us now, but we can drop
her off if you want," Tara told Andrew all goo-goo eyed. What?! Did
he just put a spell on her or something?

Andrew smiled at her, "that wouldn't be
necessary."

"Yes that wouldn't be necessary," I was
not keeping my narrowed eyes off of Andrew, "I quit."

"See, she quits," Tara
shrugged.

I was just about to turn when I
calculated all my extracurriculars in my head. There's ballet club,
the school paper, debate team and the
take-no-credit-just-for-the-art poetry club. That won't do. I
really need to be a cheerleader so I can easily pass gym.
Apparently, my gym coach does not believe that yoga gives me all
the fitness I could get without being all sweaty and worn-out.
That's despite of all the articles and health magazine cut-outs I
showed her.

"On second thought," my heart skipped a
beat, "I think I'll stick around."

Andrew raised an eyebrow.

"When you lose your game against
Jackson High, the view will be better here," I was more confident
now. Despite being a loyal member of our school's student body, I
am not a fan of our football team. The simple explanation to that
was Andrew Alleyn being a huge part of it.

The cheerleaders were shocked. They, as
I've noticed for the past three years, were very sensitive when it
comes to this issue. They were like the football team groupie, if
you will.

"We don't talk like that," Tara told
me, wide-eyed. Of course you don't.

"I know. But I do," I kept my evil eyes
on Andrew, who just stared back. There was a brief clash of blue
and green.

"That'll never happen as long as I'm
there playing, Sherlock," Andrew said confidently.

"We'll see, Alleyn," I challenged,
"we'll see."

***

"Go away, Sherlock!" Bruce Benet was
yelling from the other side of the fence. He was the captain of the
Greenvale football team. He was very famous for his six-pack, which
started out as a rumor but was then confirmed when Jon Dover, the
school paper photojournalist [accidentally] slipped into the boy's
locker room and got a clear snapshot.

"Please Bruce, I need this for my
senior thesis," I pleaded, "I promise I won't include your
name."

"I already told you, I'm not into
steroids!"

"Are you sure?"

"Go away or I'll sic the dogs on
you!"

I backed off a little. He has said the
magic word. I've always been afraid of dogs since I was a kid,
"Fine! But if you ever changed your mind, you can see me at school
or -"

"Just go away already!"

"I'm going!" I have to yell back. I
can't just let anybody shout at me like that. Even if they have a
legendary abdominal area. I clutched my commonplace book tighter
and started to head back home. The wind blew harder and within
minutes, cold rain was pouring hard. I looked around me for shelter
and there was this coffee shop I have never been before. The inside
of the shop was very warm and smelled of cappuccino.

I felt worse than the day a guy named
Jason Bland told me to leave him alone because I'm not his type. I
mean, I was just telling him, hypothetically, that if he would ever
ask me out he should let me pay my own bill. As if I'm really
looking forward to dating him. He was this psychotic rich kid who
thinks everyone's in love with him. That kind of attitude was so
Andrew Alleyn, so male dominancy thing. They think they're better
than everybody. I rested my head on the table and closed my eyes,
taking in the sweet smell of milk smothered caffeine. This coffee
shop, which was basically empty except for me and an old couple on
the far side, felt like a sanctuary.

"Would you like a comforting cup of
coffee, Miss?" a voice said from out of the blue.

I knew very well who had just spoken,
even though I haven't had a glance of the person. The voice was
very familiar, only the tone was different, almost friendly. I shot
my head up and looked into the blue eyes of Andrew
Alleyn.