1. Y*u're Not My Type

She shoved her books into her locker. It was first day of their second term in senior secondary class three and the first day of misery.

She rolled her eyes. Of course she was a hardworking student sometimes, more to the nerdy side but a teenager would always be a teenager and for the records, everyone hates school. Not that her house was any better aside the solitude of her room. The only consolation she had in school were her girls.

Christina Chidi the pretty face, boyish structure, tall and light skinned.

Deborah Matthews the killer hips, loud mouth, also light skinned and average in height. They would have passed as twins if Deborah was not natural endowed.

I'm Helen Eze, busty and mysterious. We call ourselves by our features when we feel crazy but they call us the heartbreakers because of our lifestyles which I don't find anything strange since we bring life everywhere we go to. Most girls hate us since they think we steal the guys and attention. How do we explain? It's not intentional. Girls like us filled with awesome spices are bound to attract people. Aren't we?

She put her pen down, feeling childish for writing her thoughts as her friends walked in. While Christina took a sit across her, Deborah sat on the same chair, pushing her out of it.

'You did not just push me out my chair!'

'I didn't, my behind couldn't contain the small space.' She smirked.

'If I tell you that every damn food you eat goes down to your ass, you'll call me mean.'

'I won't, since yours are stuck in your chest.' She threw back, causing Helen to gasp as they laughed at each others expense.

'Tina's seems to be everywhere but her body because she spends most of her blessed time gyming and looking like broomstick.'

Christina bit her lips and narrowed her eyes.

'Lighten up babe. It's the first day of school.' Deborah cajoled.

'Not like its the best since you decided to spoil my mood.'

'It's not my fault that you're flat as saucepan. Your only saving grace is that pretty face of yours.' She winked and Helen smiled at how easy it was for them to pick on each other and still be cool.

'It just occurred to me that if our most attractive features are combined, we would made the perfect African beauty.' She loudly thought.

'You're right.' Her friends chroused.

'But girl! God decided to deprive you both of perfect hips and senses.' Deborah puffed out her tongue, rose and ran out of the classroom for her dear life.

'You minx!'

Since she was not much of an athlete and her behinds could not let her run properly, it did not take them much to catch her.

'Fine! He didn't deprive you of senses. Okay?' She begged.

When they released her, she smirked and clucked her tongue.

'Just a little.'

'Just a little what?' Kingsley Ndubuisi asked with a cocked brow since their conversation was interrupted.

Let's introduce the boys.

Stephen O Stephens, the badboy; tall, breaktakingly handsome with cute round eyes that could pierce through any girl's soul, pointed nose and a set of pink lips. Rich billionaire, rumour had it that his parents died leaving a great fortune behind. Another had it that they were still alive but he inherited his grandparent's wealth. No one was certain since he was quiet, mysterious as hell, walking about in his fine hoodie and a packet of cigarette.

Kingsley Ndubuisi, the arrogant jerk amongst them. Brown skinned, also tall with the perfect player's grin that melted every girl's heart, making her want to be his. Aside his arrogance, he was the perfect gentleman. Son of the owner of their school which was known in the country for its prominence and it produced nothing less. His parents owned The Kings Highschool, primary school, university, college of education and different institutions. Which were the least known. He basically showered in wealth.

Last but not the least, Miracle Odo the pretty boy. He was the definition of a beautiful guy, tall with a lean athletic build. He had girls drooling over him, sweet tongue that could make any girl gladly fall into his arms. The heir to Cliff Hotels and restaurants round the world. Son to the top chefs in Nigerian. See his hands? They were perfectly manicured and blessed to cook, not that any girl would mind if they were on her, doing a thing or two.

They were the opposing team to the girls, since it was an unspoken battle for power. They were the Players. Obviously, the stereotypical gorgeous specimen that knocked girls off their feet, the guys that other guys envied but secretly desired to be like.

Helen rested on a haunch, feeling uncomfortable by Stephen's unwaving gaze.

'Just a little manners. Mind your stupid business!' Deborah spat.

'If I'm right, we were here before you and you noisy friends.'

'You didn't just call us noisy.' She gritted, taking a step forward but her friends pulled her back.

'Nice hairdo. It suits you.' Miracle complimented Christina, toying with a strand. She smiled and stepped away.

Helen raised her head again to still find Stephen's eyes on her. What had she brought upon herself?

Mr Strange got his eyes stuck?

She glared at him for a while, cocking an eyebrow before she looked out to the garden like he was a worthless piece of trash and she was in the least affected by his strange being.

'Get your over inflated self out of my damn view!' Deborah barked, bringing her to reality but Kingsley smirked.

'You see those girls? I'm sure they would gladly want to be blinded by you.' She pointed at the crowd of girls who were already swooning.

'Be walking around, feeling too proud like you're the only guys on earth.' She gritted, referring to all of them.

'Are you afraid that we might just be the only guys on earth?'

'In your dreams loser!'

'And it includes much more.' He smirked again as his eyes went down on her.

'No! You're not my type.'

'Of course, I'm above your type. It's such a pity that you lack taste and you're missing in all the good stuff.'

His friends chuckled at his cocky remark, seeing how red Deborah was.

'Good stuff? Where?' She looked around, passed them and back.

'I think we're using different dictionaries. Mine states a meaning that is like words and antonyms to you. Trust me, I don't use losers dictionary.' She hissed and stormed off with her friends next to her as the boys roared in laughter.