Better Than Revenge ♥ [Published]

8- "You're a conceited, arrogant, slut."

Kill me. Kill me now. Spare me from the embarrassment that is Rose Forrester. A mother knows best? Yeah right! Whoever came up with that crap needs to do a little more research. It's obvious that my mother doesn't know anything about me.

I scowled down at the dress that my mother had laid out across my bed. It was poofy, white and had a few black flowers embroidered around the skirt. If mothers really knew best, then my mother would have known that I hate anything that is flowery, poofy and resembles a dress or skirt in anyway. Not only did the dress meet all of those requirements, there was only one way to describe it: Girly.

"Hurry up, Violet! The Richardson's will be here any minute now!"

With a frustrated sigh, I snatched the gown up and marched over to my bedroom door. One kick to the door sent it slamming loudly and echoing as the wood from the door came into contact with the door frame. A muffled yell came from beyond the closed door causing me to smirk shamelessly. I could just imagine my mother's irritated face as she heard the door slam.

Trudging back over to my bed, I plopped down and examined the dress in my hands. A satisfied smile formed on my face as an idea danced into my head. Maybe this dinner won't be so bad after all.

With newly formed excitement, I stripped out of my pajamas and exchanged them for the dress. I couldn't help comparing my comfortable sweat pants and overly large t-shirt for the chest suffocating and exposing dress. I still didn't see the point of dressing up for dinner in the first place. It wasn't like I hadn't met Brianna and her parents before. They had seen me countless times! Why was tonight any different?

From downstairs, I heard my mother call up to me but the door muffled her voice, making it hard to understand what she had said. A few minutes later, a soft rapping on my door caught my attention. I frowned as I finished pulling my hair up into a high ponytail and went to open the door.

"I'm getting..." I started but then trailed off as I stared at the person on the other side of the door.

Brianna smiled at me, a wicked glare in her eyes. She gestured with her hands as she said, "Well? Aren't you going to invite me in?"

I stared at her in confusion for a moment before pretending to be deep in thought as I brought my hand up to rub my chin. "I don't remember ordering a stripper..."

Brianna rolled her eyes and pushed past me into my room, taking a seat at my desk chair. "I guess this will have to do," she sighed.

"Sure, come on in," I mumbled under my breath earning a curious look from Brianna. As if just hearing what she said, I frowned at her while saying, "Wait. What will have to do?"

She rubbed her hands together as if she was washing her hands under an invisible faucet. "This room. Duh, Violet. Use a little common sense," she made a fist and knocked on her head.

"We have a guest room, Dumbo Bimbo. You will definitely not be staying in my room." I mentally high fived myself for unintentionally rhyming.

Brianna shrugged her shoulders, giving me a pitying look. "That's not what your mommy says. She told me that I could take a look at your room and the guest room and whichever would make me feel at home is the one that I can use for the next two weeks." She smiled to herself as she looked me over with scrutinizing eyes. "You would look really pretty in that dress," she paused for a moment as her eyes inspected me from head to toe once more, "if you did something with that rat's nest that you call hair. Personally, I think you look better in jeans. They hide your cankles nicely."

"Very mature, Ms. Bitch-ardson," I retorted sarcastically.

Brianna stood, brushing her bottom off as if my desk chair was covered in dirt. "Like you can talk. At least I don't spend my time rhyming your name with stupid and childish insults."