The Virgin Wars

Chapter 2

"Good enough?"

After I broke the news to Celeste about my breakup, she had insisted we go straight to her house after school so we could get ready for the party together. She wanted to show Josh what he lost: me. Even though she treated me like a doll for at least an hour or two, she was trying her best.

Celeste propped me in front of a mirror.

My red hair, which was usually frizzy, was straightened to the core, allowing it to now fall, like a sheet of coloured paper, to my shoulders. I tilted my head to the side, and my reflection did the same, in tandem. My eyes were covered in heavy makeup, green orbs covered in a black mask.

"I look like a hooker," I finally said.

"Perfect!" Celeste answered, "That's exactly what I was going for. I wanted it to look like you were soliciting prostitution." She paused. "In a good way."

The O'Connor house was located near the local beach, La Jolla, which granted Celeste with a gorgeous view out her window. Living in California had its cons, like the constant heat, but it was also home to lovely beaches and a friendly atmosphere in general.

The cold, icy waves from the beach smacked the sand. People ran across the land and I witnessed a game of beach volleyball taking course.

I turned on my heels. "Thank you, Celeste."

She shrugged, as if it was nothing. Celeste had gone a little overboard with her makeup as well. She puckered her ruby red lips together and blew her reflection a kiss. Her eyes were painted with a shimmery gold shadow, complimenting her golden locks.

She danced around the room in her black pumps, singing along to her favourite Katy Perry song, which blared out from her mini radio, which was pink, just like everything else in her room.

"Now we have to find the right outfit." She opened her closet, biting down on her bow shaped lips. She skimmed her fingers through her large array of clothes.

"You know, I do own my own clothes. What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"

Celeste raised her eyebrows. "You wore that to school. Josh was at school. Do you see a problem here?" I grew silent. "How about this?" She removed a pink summer dress, which looked to be about two sizes too small.

"It might be a little short." I knew that I wasn't contributing to conversation as much as usual. My mood seemed to be all over the place because of Josh. I'd skipped fifth period to cry, and I wasn't about to let him hurt me again.

"Perfect." She shoved the dress in my direction, but I didn't take it. "Look, Peyton," philosophical therapist Celeste was back, "I know this isn't easy for you. Hell, you must feel like complete shit. Like that dog crap that you see on the street that has been lying there for days. It has flies and maggots rotting away-"

"Celeste!"

"But, think about this: it's summer and you're not tied down. You'll find another guy in a matter of seconds! I mean, just look at you." I gave her a smile and she squeezed my shoulder. "Boys suck. They can make you happy with one look and can cause your world to crumble with one word. Forget about Josh. Let's focus on us. On tonight."

"This is why you're my best friend." I leaned into her. "I love hearing about grotesque images of dog shit." We both died of laughter. After wiping tears from my eyes, I said: "So, how about that dress?"

She jumped up and removed the dress from its plastic hanger and offered it to me. I took it.

"Now change."

"Yes, ma'am."

I stripped out of my clothes. I used to be very self conscious about my muscular body. Most girls had these elegant physiques, thin thighs and flat stomachs. I wasn't built that way. My shoulders were broad and daunting, my stomach and thighs had shape to them. My thighs touched, and I didn't have a problem with it.