Dejected

Chapter 2) First High School Party

It was Friday, and Asha had come over to my house after school. We sat on opposite sides of my bed, she reading a magazine and I on my computer, while we listened to Green Day.

“Hey, so there’s this party tomorrow night, you should come! My friend Brent can drive us,” proposed Asha.

“Hmmm Brent,” I said as I tried to recall who he was, “Wait, isn’t he the gay one?”

“Yeah! Him and his boyfriend are so cute together!” Asha exclaimed. I laughed. It always made me happy watching Asha get excited over little things.

“I dunno know, a house full of stupid teenagers and a lot of alcohol doesn’t sound like much fun to me...” I started.

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun. The year’s almost over and we haven’t been to a single party,” she persisted.

“I don’t know…”

“Pleeeeaaaase,” she whined and gave me puppy dog eyes. Goddamn she always looked so cute when she did that.

“Okay, fine,” I finally agreed.

“Yay!” she exclaimed, “Okay, so what are you gonna wear?” she asked.

“I dunno.” Asha got up and walked across my room, sliding open the mirrored closet door to reveal the labyrinth of unorganized clothes that is my closet.

“Damn, girl! Do you ever fold your clothes?” she asked jokingly.

Asha is the same age as me, has bright red dyed hair, and chocolate-colored eyes. While she may seem like a fake teenagery girl at times, she’s super real and awesome… I basically rely on her. We’ve been best friends since 6th grade and if it weren’t for her, I literally would probably be dead, if you know what I mean.

“I hate folding my clothes. It’s like, what’s the point if you’re just going to have to wash them again anyways?” I replied.

“The point,” she retaliated, “is to be able to find the clothes you’re looking for so that it doesn’t take twenty minutes to get dressed.”

“Whatever,” I rolled my eyes at her. I closed my laptop and watched her search through my closet.

“Ooh! This is cute!” she held up my black and grey striped sparkly tank top, “You could wear it with those denim shorts you have on now, fishnets, and…” she searched the shelf with all my shoes on it, “these are perfect,” she held up my shiny purple pumps (Who says I can’t be punk rock and sexy at the same time?).

“Okay, sure,” Asha laid out the clothes for me on my bed.

“Thanks, mom!” I said, faking enthusiasm. It wasn’t like I didn’t know how to dress myself  or anything, Asha just liked picking out outfits for me sometimes.

“Fuck you,” she said, unamused. I laughed.

 

On Friday night Asha and I were in my living room waiting for Brent to pick us up: me in my aforementioned outfit, Asha in a royal blue cocktail dress that complimented her red hair, and black Vans.

“You know, I really thought by the end of freshman year I’d have a boyfriend for sure,” Asha stated, matter-of-factly.

“What’s wrong with being single?” I asked. I had never had a boyfriend either (unless you count two weeks of awkward hand holding with some dude in 6th grade) but I’d never really cared or thought much about the fact.

“I don’t know… I just always pictured myself having a boyfriend in high school,” Asha said, looking rather disappointed, “It’d just be nice, you know?”