Dru: a skinny little perfect blonde-haired blue-eyed princess with an evil streak and a flirt-with-everyone nature
“Once upon a time there was a cotton candy slut, who would’ve been a beauty if she’d kept her mouth shut, polyester princess getting pretty plenty play, tore up with the floor up man and this is what she’d say- ‘I’m so sexy, I’m so sorry....’”
Drue: a bitter, twisted redhead with such boobs and hips she’s fighting off the ones Dru is flirting with
“I don’t give a damn what it’s all about, I just wanna see how it all turns out, my mind’s skin tight but my skin’s so loose, Everclear’s apple juice is swinging on a liquid noose. Get me drunk and get in line, I’m everybody’s valentine, meet me in a few more sips, kiss my red apocalips...”
Six minutes into sixth period on the sixth day of June, and Dru was already getting bored of her
math teacher’s droning. She kept glancing at the clock, finally growing so impatient she could
only restrain herself by putting her head on her desk and covering it with her loose blonde locks.
Someone tripped by in the hallway. Blearily Dru turned her head and woke up instantly when
she saw her best friend sprawled there. As she clutzily got up, Dru scribbled out the standard
doctor-appointment-forged-note and grabbed her purple backpack. She skipped out into the
hallway with a big grin. Drue was leaning casually on a locker with car keys jingling in her
black-painted fingers.
“Ready?”
“Right on time.”
They hooked arms and went down the hallway, smiling sweetly at the unsuspecting security
guards and sneaking around back to where Drue’s old, beat up blue Ford was parked. She didn’t
get her permit till July, but that didn’t seem to bother her.
She threw her blue messenger bag in the back, hopped up on the wheel and tried desperately to
reach across and open Dru’s door. It didn’t matter; Dru had jimmied it open with the paperclip
in her pocket already. They turned their angry chick music on low and Drue backed off on the
cute little dirt road out the back of BCC’s holding school. It wasn’t abnormal, they took this road
every month. In January it was the first day, in February, the second, and so on. They’d been
doing this for years on foot before Drue started stealing her older brother’s car keys.
“That pukey blonde guy in your French class been bothering you again?” asked Dru as she
munched a McDonalds half-eaten egg-mc-muffin she found in the glove compartment.
Drue rolled her eyes. “Don’t even talk about it. I mean, at first it was cute and all, but now I’m
like, scared to go to class. There’s a certain point when marker-fights stop being fun. Why
haven’t you figured out why the boys always try to flirt with me by beating me up?”
Other Dru shrugged. “You’ve got boobs. Boobs intimidate them.”
“I certainly don’t know why,” Drue snorted. “Dicks don’t intimidate me.”
“Yeah but Drue, we’re the cool ones.”
They laughed and turned on the Beltway. Drue was a terrible driver, even she admitted it- it was
a miracle no cops had stopped her yet and figured out that she was totally unliscenced. She
honked at everyone and didn’t listen to stop signs or remember right-of-ways. She blasted music
and speeded and forgot what turn-signals were for. She said it was just her good luck she hadn’t
crashed and killed them all by now.
“Ah, the joy of malls without crowds.” Dru dragged them into a Sephora and tried to change
Drue’s black-eye look, but she wouldn’t have anything put on her but more eyeliner and glitter.
Dru inspected her perfect foundation-covered skin and Drue rolled her eyes.
“Let’s hit the foodcourt for Cinnabons-”
“And the Brookstone. That ride was killer on my back,” Dru teased as they trooped off.
While they snarfed down their sugar-boosts and stared into their sodas, we have time to review.
Dru met Drue in second grade. It was the first day, and Drue was new- a boy-bodied, mean
redhead who didn’t make friends very easily. Dru had never been a popular grade-school girl and
went up to her at lunch that very day. She was sitting in the corner wearing sweats and eating
peanut butter from the jar.
“How do you spell yours?”
“D-r-u-e.”
“Oh. Mine doesn’t have an E.”
And they hung out every day from then on. They both hated school but got good grades, and
everyone hated them, especially Drue, from day one. Drue didn’t have a talent for getting a long
with people, she didn’t like tolerating their crap. She had always been amazed that Dru wasn’t
repelled by her. Dru was social, some said overly social, but Dru always just brushed them off
as jealous. Boys liked her, even if she didn’t have the kind of body Drue spent so much time
covering up. Dru was generally flat chested and had lightly padded hips that she swished
expertly when she walked. She hadn’t cut her honey blonde since sixth grade and when she let it
out of the pencil-held coil at the nape of her neck it flowed down to her waist. Ever since that
first day Drue hadn’t made many attempts for socializing. Boys followed her around or catcalled
and she flicked em off, which was sad because they were sometimes the nice ones which Dru
later chastized her for. About ninth grade she got used to her boobs and began wearing tanks and
tighter stuff, mostly at Dru’s nagging, and when she wasn’t battling with her hair, trying to make
it straight or dying it random colors, it was curly, red, and long. She ate too much but it didn’t
seem to show. She always asserted that someday it would catch up with her and she would end
up like her mother.
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