Now You See Me, Now You Don't!
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Mel C. Clair
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In high school, Celeste fell face-first into the crotch of the hottest guy in school, also her longtime crush. And she became the laughingstock. Now, several years later, she runs into him again, as a successful marketing director. Will love rise against the constant embarrassment and humiliation she suffered because of him?
Face Plant in Crotch
CELESTE
09/17/07
Dear diary,
PLEASE KILL ME NOW.
If there is some kind of power that entails writing words in a diary to actually come true, then my wish is to have the gods strike me down with a lightning bolt right now.
End my misery, please.
As if my life couldn’t get any worse.
I wish to go back to being the nerdy girl, always in the shadows. I’d take getting bumped in the hallway and dropping my books everywhere because nobody sees me passing by any day compared to my life now.
Why did Mrs. Soux put me up to this?
Why did I listen?
Because she said joining any sports team would make my college application stand out even more. And because I’d do just about anything to win that scholarship to NYU, I listened to her.
I joined the girls’ volleyball team. Even though I know I suck at anything sports-related. I may have more brains than anyone else in the school, but my eye-hand coordination SUCKS. I blame it on my glasses.
I never in a million years thought they would put me in the game. They see how bad I am during practice.
Why did the coach have to put me in?
Why did this have to happen to me?
Why? Why? Why?
Of course, he would be there.
The hottest guy in school. Checking out all the girls in the tight tank tops and short athletic shorts, hitting the ball around, their enormous boobs bouncing up and down in the guys’ faces every time they jump for the ball.
So yeah, of course, he was there. Jace Makenzie. Star football player of the high school. Total ladies’ man. Totally gorgeous.
Totally my crush, along with all the other girls in school.
Oh my God, I’m going to be sick again.
Why? Why? Why?
Okay, so let me tell you what happened.
It was the last round of the game. We were winning by a stretch, so maybe that’s why the coach put me in—I couldn’t be bench-warming the entire season.
She probably thought we were up so much that my bad playing couldn’t f’up the game.
But it sure f’ed up my life.
So, I was on the receiving end of the serve. The girl pushed her boobs together, making sure all the guys were checking her out, and whipped the ball at me.
Of course, I couldn’t return it. But if I didn’t try, I’d probably have a broken nose right now.
Note to self: I’d definitely rather have a broken nose right now.
I jumped forward to return it only to hit it out and lose my balance in the process. I stumbled straight into the crowd watching from the sidelines. I went headfirst, barreling into none other than Jace Makenzie.
My face planted right in his crotch.
HIS CROTCH.
Yup. I said it. It happened. Humiliation.
The crowd erupted in laughter at me, and when I looked up and adjusted the glasses on my face, I saw him smirking down at me.
“Never thought I’d see you in that position,” Jace said to me, making my face turn beet-red, causing the group of football players standing next to him to roar even harder in laughter.
I wanted to die.
I STILL want to die.
It’s been a week since, and now I’m not the girl in the shadows anymore that everyone ignores.
I’m the laughingstock of the school.
I feel everyone’s eyes on me in class. I hear the whispers, the giggles, the stabs of how “sad” and “pathetic” I am. I feel everyone stop talking and stare and laugh at me as I walk down the hallway.
I just want to go back to being invisible. The one that no one ever saw, no one ever cared about, no one even knew.
Jace never noticed me before, and now every time I walk by, I feel his eyes on me and the laughter that echoes around him.
And worst of all is Jace’s preppy Barbie doll, head cheerleader and girlfriend, Maddie Knox.
That girl is the devil herself. Always wrapped in Jace’s arms, being the most popular girl in school, with her mean girls following her every move. Every time she sees me, I feel her eyes throwing daggers in my direction.
Why? I have no idea, but she has made my life miserable ever since. I’m sure she’s the one behind the writing in permanent marker on my locker: “Cock Eater.”
And the notes stuffed in my mailbox and locker: “I should kill myself to end my miserable life.”
I just can’t wait for high school to finally be over. To have a fresh start at college, and, hopefully, to be far away in New York City.
And never, and I mean NEVER see anyone from high school…EVER again.
