Introvert

Chapter One

I roll my eyes. "Mike, did Mom asked you 'protect' me while she's away for the week?" He sighs then nods. "She's worried about you. She thinks you're-"

"I'm not depressed," I interrupt. He nods again then says, "I know that. She just knows that I'm 'fairly social', to use her words, and she wants me to help you be a little less... you."

I look down. I don't want to go to this party, but my mom's dissapointed in me. Is that part of the typical story? I don't know. Though, I'd rather just have a content mother, rather than a stressed out one.

"What kind of party is it?" I mumble. A smile appears on his face. "It's just a normal party. High Schoolers only," he explains. I nod, now knowing that at least I won't be the youngest there.

Mike is a Senior, and he's desperate to make his Senior class the best Senior class. The class with the best pranks, the best parties, the best... everything.

I'm a Junior, but I can be easily mistaken for a Sophomore. And I have been on many occasions.

I look at Mike and give a reluctant, 'yes' before asking the time of the party. He says, "Nine tonight. Be ready." I nod and chew on my bottom lip as he leaves.

Tonight is going to be a total disaster. The only person that I can speak normally to, is Mike. Otherwise, I'm a stuttering, nervous wreck. It's not that I'm scared, (even though I am) it's the fact that I know that Mike won't judge me, and I feel comfortable around him. Everyone else, I don't know if I can trust.

My problem now is, I don't have a friend to tell me what to wear, or how to act. I walk out of my room and down the dimly lit hallway.

I hear a loud noise, probably video games, from outside of Mike's room.

"Hey, Mike?" I say through his door. The noise suddenly stops, and another tall figure opens the door. "Ronnie!" Alex greets with a smile. I give him and awkward "hello" and walk in.

The room itself, is pretty decent. The owner, however, is a slob. "Whaddya need?" Alex asks, sitting in a chair. "W-well," I start, "I'm going to the party-"

"You are? Great!" he cheers, smiling wider. I bite my lip. "W-what do I wear?" The silence afterwards makes me wants to crawl into a hole and hide for a year.

And then,

"Oh, Corona. Let me help you."

Cue the spunky montage music. Imagine Alex: a tall, lanky, blonde, sifting through my closet, not stoping once to look at my undergarments. (thank GOD)

"Try this," he says, tossing me a shirt I don't even know I have, and some skinny jeans. "Wait." He walks over and grabs the jeans. He makes a few small tears in them, leaving holes. "There, now go change."

I look at the outfit. I would never wear this. I frown and walk to the bathroom. The top, I already hate. I can see my belly button, and my ghostly-pale skin.

Well, not ghostly, but still pale. Then the jeans, which I had to jump, squat, squirm, and wiggle into, almost snapped.

I push my hair infront of my shoulders and sigh. Trying to look "pretty" is going to be harder than I thought.

I walk back into my room with a huff. "Alex, I-I don't think-"

"Oh my god..." he interrupts. His little gasp before hand makes me look down at myself and blush in embarrassment. "Ronnie, you look...great!" he breathes.

"W-what?" I look at him, trying make sure if he's serious. These too tight pants, and this very short shirt is considered 'beautiful'.

Why can't it be the 50's again?