HIS BEST FRIEND [editing]

Chapter One: Megan Peters

DISCLAIMER: This book is MY original work and copying it is considered plagiarism, which is against the law.

This is my first book on Wattpad so please be kind!

Chapter One

Megan Peters

It's the first day of school and I don't have a thing to wear.

I scan my closet, rifling through the endless racks of clothes hangers holding horrid articles of clothing that I regret ever having bought. Most of my wardrobe is now somewhere on my bed or skewed across the floor, where I tossed it in my desperate attempt to find something for today.

Why didn't I go shopping over the summer?

Oh, that's why. Mom made me get a job. At Sunny Sunglasses in the mall, where the people who came in generally consisted of dull, average people who were looking for something that would help them protect their "poor eyes from the big bad sun" as one flighty woman put it. She was one of my only notable customers, as a matter of fact. Once, a couple of girls from my school came in, populars as some may put it, who laughed when they saw me in my cutesy smock with I SHIELD YOU FROM THE SUN printed on it in big block letters. My face burned with embarrassment but I laughed it off and pretended like I didn't recognize them.

Once, Jake Lloyd came in with his friends. The Jake Lloyd. Star quarterback, flirty, almost-friend. I only managed to make a fool of myself.

"Megs!" my mother calls from downstairs. I shudder at the nickname and call back, "It's Megan, Mom! You're the one who named me!"

It's become a routine at this point. She's the only one who ever calls me Megs though my friends call me Meg and I call myself Megan.

"You're going to be late for school if you take any longer!" my mother shouts. I grimace, not sure if I should face the humiliation of asking her to help me pick out an outfit. I know that when my mother was in high school, she was one of the "populars" who always fit in with the crowd. She could help me choose in less than a second, but I'm not going to ask her. Popular or not, she's my mother.

I finally decide on white skinny jeans that fit just a little tighter than I would usually wear, and a loose, flowy off-the-shoulder top in a deep burgundy that compliments my hair, which is mousy-brown with dirty-blonde highlights somewhere in between. I grab my trusty white Vans, skater shoes that are becoming quite popular lately for some bizarre reason. Knowing me, I only have the shoes because I like to follow the trends. I packed my backpack the night before so I grab it and head downstairs to face the day.

My mom is in the kitchen, frying something that looks almost like eggs. I sniff it suspiciously and say, "What are those supposed to be, Mom?"

"I'm making you an omelet, honey." My mom looks taken aback that I couldn't recognize what it was, though a smile plays on her lips. I grin at her and take a seat at the counter. She scoops up the omelet, grabbing a plate in the process, heaps it onto the dish, adds a pinch of salt and some chives and hands me the plate. I grab a fork from the utensil drawer and dig in. She smiles at me and I look up at her.

"Aren't you going to eat, Mom?" I ask. I worry about her sometimes. After Dad left, she's been getting thinner and more delicate every day.

"I will, honey, after you leave. I promise." I'm not sure if I actually believe her but she's stubborn and I know not to question it. She brushes it off and asks me, "Are you excited? It's the first day of junior year. It's exciting, isn't it?" She smiles though her eyes look a little foggy and I groan.

"Mom, please don't cry like those cliche moms in those cheesy shows that you always watch." I sigh, not wanting to have to calm down a sobbing mother first thing in the morning.