through the dark; vic criss

Twelve.

Twelve.

"How do you both have more of a social life than me?" Charlotte wondered aloud, sprawled out on Haley's bed. "You guys have a curfew!"

"We're not scared to flirt, Char," Haley remarked, glancing at the eldest through the mirror as she finished her eyeshadow.

Isabelle blinked. "Speak for yourself," Haley gave her a look, "I don't flirt,"

"Not on purpose,"

Charlotte practically cackled at the expression on Isabelle's face. "She's right, you accidentally flirt with guys all the time like – what was his name? Joey?" Haley nodded eagerly. "Poor Joey. He really thought you liked him, then when he flirted with you, you said 'I left my hair straightener on' and ran,"

Isabelle flushed. "I didn't flirt with him! I sat with him in in one class and told him he could use my notes if he needed to! He was falling behind and I could tell because he kept looking at my book anyway,"

"Are you sure he was looking at the book?" Charlotte threw a spare pillow at Haley.

"She was thirteen," Haley looked like she was desperately trying to hold back another sly remark because she pressed her lips together, the beginnings of a smile prominent, before she looked back to the vanity and puckered them to apply lip gloss.

Isabelle turned back to Haley's closet. Haley's because in her sister's words, Isabelle's was too 'never bought an item of clothing since the age of eight'. In her defence, no one had offered to take Isabelle shopping since she was twelve.

"There's a blue skirt in there that would look nice on you," Haley told her absently. Isabelle's eyes drifted downwards, because Haley had an organised closet unlike her own. The skirt was there, and it was really pretty even though Isabelle's stomach knotted a little bit at the thought of wearing it in front of so many people. She wore shorts and dresses all the time but Haley's skirts seemed like a whole different ballgame.

Whatever. If Haley thought she could wear it, then it'd be okay.

The party at Diane Reece's house wasn't unlike Katrina Richards'. At least, to Isabelle it was almost exactly the same, but Haley seemed to enjoy this one more. True to her words that morning, Natalie and Therese found the two of them right away. Natalie was holding a water bottle, which Isabelle assumed (hoped) was filled with water, not vodka.

"Hey Isabelle!" Natalie exclaimed, pulling her into a one-armed hug. If the bottle didn't have its plastic cap screwed on tight, whatever was inside probably would have spilled all down Isabelle's back.

"Hi, Natalie," the girl pulled back, beaming. Isabelle suspected she may have already been tipsy... or she might have just been like that all the time. "Hey, Therese,"

Therese was much less warmed up to Isabelle, which she made clear by simply nodding in her direction. She ran a hand through her inky black hair as she spoke. "Brandon's saying we need a break, so I'm sure as shit not going sober," she punctuated her sentence by taking a swig from the plastic cup in her hand.

"I won't drink," Haley said, "I promised my parents," Isabelle just managed to catch Therese's eyeroll. "Brandon wants you guys to take a break?"

Natalie nodded in Therese's place, eyes wide and eager. "He came over yesterday and told her something didn't feel right! No lead up, he just said he wanted 'some time'!"

Therese continued, more solemnly, "he's been acting weird for a while – I should have dumped him when he pashed Georgia Scott,"

Their conversation turned into mere background noise when Isabelle's eyes drifted towards the door and she caught sight of that familiar head of bleached hair. Her breath almost caught in her throat before she got a hold of herself. This wasn't a big deal. Victor said he was going to be there, or he'd implied it. He hadn't seen her yet, so she had the upper hand in a way.