Mirror, Mirror

Chapter Five

Chapter 5

I sat in my English class last period, trying to decipher Shakespeare with my partner. Keyword: trying.

“You have very pretty eyes, Aurora,” Cameron gazed at me.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact.

He bit his lower lip, which was pierced on the left side. He was wearing eyeliner, or ‘guy liner,’ as Ivy would say. He was wearing tight black jeans accompanied with a black leather jacket and an I Set My Friends on Fire tee-shirt. His black hair stopped just below his eyebrows, revealing a double piercing on his right brow. His aqua blue eyes were stunning. Though I didn’t quite agree with his music choice, he was pretty hot. Screamo is not my thing.

“Class will be over in about ten minutes. Turn your paper in on my desk, regardless if you are finished or not. You had plenty of time to work today,” my English teacher sat at her desk, and spoke without looking up.

Luckily, we had spent a few months on Shakespeare in Drama last year. I had no problem understanding it at all. Cameron was much too distracted, and I felt bad. It was my fault he didn’t get his work done, in an involuntary way.

I got up and turned in my paper, earning a few jealous glares from girls as Cameron’s eyes followed me, as well as a few other guys’. I felt so horrible- like some kind of monster.

The bell rang sooner than I expected, and we all filed out of the classroom. Danny met me by my locker.

“Hey girl hey!” He smiled at me, but frowned when he noticed my mood. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m a monster! There will be no guys left for the rest of the population if we don’t fix this soon!” I wailed, probably a bit too dramatically.

“Oh, shush. That’s nonsense,” he gave me a bone-crushing hug.

I smiled at his sincerity.

“Thank you, Danny. I love you!”

“I know. Everyone does,” he stuck his nose in the air.

I rolled my eyes.

“Where’s Ivy?”

Usually she’s met up with us by now.

“Making out with some guy,” he replied.

“Oh my gosh! Wait, it’s not Cameron, is it?” I looked at him, dreading a yes.

“No, it’s-” He snapped his fingers until it came to him, “Drake.”

“I’m so happy for her! She’s liked him for almost two years now,” I smiled.

“Well let’s keep you away from him,” he joked.

“Hey,” I pouted. “That’s not funny.”

“You know I’m kidding.”

We were interrupted by an announcement.

“Please excuse the interruption. We’d like to announce the Homecoming dance theme for next Friday,” a nasally voice filled our ears.

Danny and I glanced at each other.

“It will be a Masquerade. To avoid what happened last year, all students are required to dress according to theme. Thank you,” the static background noise faded out.

Danny and I squealed and jumped up and down. To avoid his wandering the halls and singing of ‘Just Dance,’ I dragged him off to my house, which was about a five minute walk.

“Girl, we’ve got shopping to do!” Danny’s imitated a valley girl, and his living in California for the first ten years of his life, combined with his sassy gay-ness, made it scarily accurate.

“We’ll call Ivy. Where do you think will be the best place to find our outfits?” I asked him.

“It’s Vegas. We could find them anywhere, including a dumpster behind a hotel on the Strip. But we should go to a few different places,” he suggested. “Depending on the look you’re going for.”

“Ivy will want to be flamboyant, as will you. I kind of want something elegant,” I admitted.

“Me, flamboyant?!” He exclaimed sarcastically. “Never!”

I laughed, “I think you should show up in a show girl outfit.”

“With the big feather hat!” He added, enthusiastically.

“Don’t forget the sequins!”

We were both kidding; Danny would probably opt for a tux. Though it’d definitely be…Danny-fied.

I unlocked the front door and after discovering that no one was home, sat on the couch next to Danny. I pulled out my phone and called Ivy, Danny watching me expectantly.

Ivy picked up immediately. “Ro!” She shrieked into the phone.

“What?” I asked with concern.

“Emergency sleepover,” she spoke breathlessly.

“My parents should be cool with that,” I replied. “Now get your butt over here and explain yourself.”

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I know this story isn't super popular, but if I tried at the Watty Awards, would you guys vote? I mean, I'll keep writing either way...I love this story, but I'm curious. 

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