hello, i’m johnny casual

Okay, Jenny, I know the first semester of sixth grade has been pretty tough with you being the new girl in town, and that neither I nor the other popular girls in school have made it any easier with our cruel hazing practices. Well, as the things we are about to tell you will make clear, we had to test you because we needed to make sure you could handle being friends with us. So no, inviting you to this slumber party was not the latest in an escalating series of ruthless pranks (although that would have been a great idea), but rather a legitimate gesture indicating that we want you to formally join our group, Le Clique Elite.

Now, the first few hours of a slumber party in which we are initiating a new member are usually bogged down with us menacingly walking in a circle around the blindfolded nominee, repeatedly asking whether she can keep a secret, until she cries. But tonight we are gonna forgo all that, because you earned some credibility by not squealing on us when we stole your sandwich out of your lunchbox and replaced it with your beloved dead hamster that we dug out of the garbage, with a note pinned to him that said “you.” So since we already know you’re tough, we’ll get straight to sharing the secrets of Le Clique Elite. The first and most important one is called the Secret Game.

The Secret Game has been played by girls in our town for generations. Even my grandma played it, and she told me that it’s really important that we keep the traditions, or else the Secret Game won’t work. But if you play it right, you can do all sorts of cool stuff, like talk to spirits, levitate, or pick up pencils with your mind. Plus the longer you do it, the better you get at it. My sister’s a freshman, and she says that if she didn’t do her reading assignment the night before, she can cast like, a spell or something on the teacher to get her to not give a pop quiz. Also, there was this one girl, like in the 90s, whose boyfriend dumped her, so she snuck into his house and slipped a Ouija board between his mattress and box spring, and his next girlfriend mysteriously disappeared. It’s totally true.

Imagine being able to freeze time, then stroll undetected into the varsity boy’s basketball team locker room. Ugh, now that I mention it, that actually sounds pretty gross, but you get the idea. I’m serious. If we stick with it, playing the Secret Game can give us advantages beyond Edwin Meese Junior High or even Bob Packwood High. I’m hoping I can use it to get me into Harvard. And from there, I could either become a high powered attorney like my mom, or keep advancing in the Secret Game until I become an interdimensional traveler, battling demons for sport in arenas full of howling bloodthirsty plebians, reveling in their cheers as I drink blood from the hollowed-out skulls of my vanquished enem- Oh hi, Mrs. Beasley, we were just talking about boys we have crushes on. Thanks for the pizza rolls! Okay, we’ll call you if we need anything! Bye! Goddammit, you were supposed to be standing watch, Stacey. All right girls, let’s show Jenny how Le Clique Elite deals with mistakes. I’ll get the hammer.


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October 2011
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