Dancing Is A Dangerous Game

22

I hear the front door slam shut, and I get up from my chair. I walk back to my room to look for my phone. I always lose that piece of electronics. I decide to call my best friend Emilia. After a few seconds, she picks up.

"How's the hangover, sunshine?"

I scowl at her for laughing at my health, but I can't say she's wrong. I've been better. I hear the ever-so-happy Spanish girl rattling on about last night and everything I did.

"I don't need to be reminded of my embarrassing personality, you know?"
"How can you be reminded of something when you don't remember it?" she answers me. The woman has a point. I only remember the first hour of the evening and a few moments off the rest of it. She wasn't any better, but she never gets hangovers. Because of that, I'm miserable right now, and she is perfectly fine.

"You want some soup?" I ask Mills.
"Who made it?" she asks me with a hint of suspicion in her voice. I understand her, though. Penny is a better cook than I am. There's a reason she's in culinary school. She's learning to become a chef. She might not have the skills of Gordon Ramsay yet, but she has the attitude. It's a start.
I answer my friend, "Penelope."
"Of course! I love her soup!" Emilia screams.
"I have to tell you something too," I tell her with a smirk on my face. 

That always does it for her. She has more curiosity than the average person, so naturally, she's jumping up and down from excitement.
"I'm on my way!" she squeals before hanging up the phone.

Ten minutes later, I hear someone knocking on the front door. I might say 'knocking,' but I'm scared she will just knock through the door. She might be small, but she has a lot of power.

I open the door to see the smiling face of the small girl. Her dark brown hair is in a messy bun, and it makes her look even cuter. She pushes me away and runs to the kitchen.
"Where's the soup, Lily?"
"A good morning to you too," I sigh.
"Oh yeah, right, hey! How are you?"
"I'm not great bu-"
"Great, now where's the liquid gold?" she cuts me off. 
"The soup's on the counter," I answer, "but don't you want to hear the tea?"
"Is that even a question?" She says with a smirk on her face.
"I knew I could talk to you! So,you know how Penny has been extremely happy these days? Happier than she usually is?"
"Yes... What about it?"
"I found the reason," I say with a grin.
Mills suddenly starts scowling and screaming at me.
"Is it a bad thing that I found the reason?" I ask her.
"Oh, no, no, I just burned my tongue, and it hurts."
"Well, that's random. Anyways, she's seeing someone."
The moment those words leave my lips, I see Emilia's soup flying through the kitchen and a screaming girl.
"Stop yelling! I have a hangover!"
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, but not really. What the fuck!? Penelope is seeing someone? Who?"
"Olivia, she's one year older."
"Wait a second, Olivia who?"
"Olivia I don't know, I didn't ask for her last name. I do know she studies fashion."
"Oh my god, Olivia Moore? She is THE fashion student at our school. She has already gotten offers from all the big designer companies, but she refused all of them because she wants to finish school."
Emilia studies art at The New York School of Fashion and Art. She's a promising painter, and she is one of the most creative people I know. Apparently, Olivia is even more promising in the fashion industry. I make a mental note to discuss that with Penny.
"Wow, I did not know that. Go Penny, I guess," I say with disbelief in my voice.

Mills starts eating her soup again, and I decide to go get dressed. I have to be in class in 45 minutes, so I better hurry. I put on a pair of jeans and an oversized t-shirt, just a comfortable fit. I start packing my bag while Emilia rattles on about some girl in her class, who's, I quote, 'a real fucking bitch'. Happy to know that piece of important information.
"Mills, when do you have to leave for class?" I yell with toothpaste in my mouth.
"In half an hour, you wanna walk together?"
"Of course, I'm leaving in ten. Is that okay for you?"
"Sure!"
After searching for all my stuff for class, I look for my phone. I always lose the damn thing. It's also a wonder how it hasn't destroyed itself yet because I drop it at least seven times a day.
"Hey, you know where my phone is?"
"It's in your back pocket, idiota."
I start to laugh hysterically. That's so typical for me. Emilia starts to laugh, too. After nearly peeing our pants, we calm down and leave for school.