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 ^{(it's beta!)}

"Where do you get your inspiration?"

The words on the page stared up at her and she smiled. Inspiration wasn't something that came to her easily, lately. If anything, it was avoiding her. Or maybe she was avoiding it?

Madeline sat on the hood of her car in her high school's parking lot, flipping through the newest addition to her collection of books. She put the Palahniuk book down next to her and sighed, staring up at the sky.

She didn't notice the black Mustang pull up next to her, or the couple approaching her. Actually, Madeline wasn't paying attention to much when she was pushed off the hood of the car by her best friend. "Love you too, jerk," she said laughing as she stood up.

Jake smiled and kissed Celene on the forehead before leaving the two girls to talk.

"So..." Celene started, sitting herself on the green Taurus's hood, "I hear you and Lisa are talking again."

"Yep..." Linn replied, picking at a callus by her nail. Lisa was a bit of an awkward topic. In high school, they don't teach you that your whole life can fall apart in a matter of days if you don't play the game. That someone who you trusted with your life would one day turn their back on you, and lead most to do the same.

"Awkward at all?"

"A little... It's only been two years, though." Two years. Of seeing each other every day without actually being seen. About being looked through as if she wasn't there. Being talked over and around and through, while everyone else made plans.

In high school, they don't teach you how much it hurts to be the odd one out.

"Just... don't read too much into it, Linn. You don't want to get hurt again."

"I know..." Linn mumbled in response. The parking lot was starting to fill up now, and she and Celene started walking to the building. The last year of the "best four years of your life." Or so they tell you in high school.

After English, Madeline had this masochistic way of walking to her next class. She and Jake would leave the room, and walk towards the stairway. They'd be met by Celene, coming from her Graphic Arts class. The three would exchange complaints about their day so far, and they'd continue on their way. Jake and Celene to the main entrance for lunch, and Madeline to her art class.

Not masochistic enough? Jake and Celene walk either hand and hand, or with arms around each others' waists. Madeline following two steps behind. It's not that she was jealous of the two, Madeline had just broken up with her boyfriend of two years. Definitely not looking to jump back into that game. She wasn't attracted to Jake, or Celene for that matter.

What they don't tell you in high school, is that everyone has their own cliques. Except you.

Madeline gets to her art class right on time, and gets her canvas out. Lauren, her bench-mate for the fourth year, does the same.

"Damnit, Linn. I hate you," the girl joked, looking over the painting Madeline had already started working on.

With a roll of her eyes, Madeline responded with sarcasm, "Said the best artist in the school." In high school, it is some unspoken rule to teach you that everyone is unique and special, and will go far in life. Everyone is equal. Everyone is exactly the same. What a Marxist notion, Madeline had thought once, what would Senator McCarthy think! The truth is, not everyone is special, and not everyone will go far in life.

The underachievers will drop out, the overachievers will burn out. From the looks of it, most of Madeline's graduating class will get out of high school, graduate with a degree in some sort of arts or in business, and make barely enough to support themselves for the rest of their lives.

That was how things go in small towns. At least, that's what Madeline figured. You didn't hear too many from-rags-to-riches stories coming out of places like Mullen, Nebraska or Addison, West Virginia. Why would any small town in any state be any different?

Lauren and Madeline spent the time they weren't painting watching the other and making comments about how jealous the other was. It was a fact that Lauren was far better, as humble as she liked to be. But the occasional comments from her made Madeline feel a little better about her work.

Comments from other people though? Students who took the class out of requirement to graduate as opposed to ones who took it for a love of art? They made Madeline feel awkward and annoyed. They were always positive comments, but most students in an art class will tell you that being told how wonderful their work is all the time is one of the most annoying parts about painting.

That it can make you never want to pick up a brush again. That it can make you want to burn your sketchbooks and hide your doodles. In Madeline's book, Chuck Palahniuk writes that "sometimes a really big compliment can hurt more than a slap in the face." It was probably one of the truest things she had ever read.

In high school, they never have you read the books that actually teach you anything other than how to hate John Steinbeck for the rest of your school career.

---------------------------

Apologies to any Steinbeck fans, however Grapes of Wrath made me not want to touch another book for my entire sophomore year. Of Mice and Men wasn't much better for me.

She walked home after school every day. The same route she had walked with her friend Chris before he had moved. Passing by his house, even though it was out of the way. She had tried walking a different way. Or even just not going two blocks out of her way to go by where he used to live. She felt like she was betraying him though.

What they don't tell you in high school is that nostalgia can drive you insane.

Only a week into the school year, Madeline was already falling behind in her classes. It wasn't that she was stupid, or even lazy. She was just unmotivated. Most of her friends were busy trying to figure out what they were going to do once they graduated. How they would get out of this town. This state. This life. Meanwhile, Madeline's day-to-day routine included trying to think of a good enough reason to get out of bed in the morning.

Most days, it just wasn't worth it. However, since she had broken up with her last boyfriend, she was learning that things weren’t that bad. In high school, they don’t teach you that relationships are a waste of time. They might tell you that, but the odds of anyone actually listening? Well, there’s slim-to-none and then there is rationalizing with a teenager. Surely it’s obvious which the more likely of the two are.

Madeline typed a few ellipses into the text document. Its heading showed that it was supposed to be a history paper. Her phone rang again, and seeing it was her ex again, she ignored it. Again. She made an attempt at an opening paragraph about the industrial revolution and its impact on today’s society. The jingle signaling she had a text message caused her to procrastinate a little more.

“I need to talk to you. I want to kill myself.”

No. You are NOT doing this to me. Not tonight. Not now. Not ever. Madeline called him back. He answered on the second ring, and she made her intentions very clear before he had even managed a hello.

“Listen, I don’t know who the hell you think you are. Do not pull that with me. You know perfectly well how I didn’t handle the situation last year with RJ.” Her tone was quiet, her father and brother didn’t need to meddle in her business tonight. The touch of acidity made her serious.

“Sorry,” he managed to whisper, “I… I’ll call you back when I calm down.” Madeline wished he wouldn’t, but settled with a simple goodbye and hung up.

In high school, they aren’t nice enough to offer a crash-course in suicide prevention. Yet, Madeline knew that her ex wasn’t going to be as stupid as her friend had been.