Rose #9//Lil Peep

#33: Rose Colored Glasses

An: again, no real editing. Errors might just be everywhere. mind that they are freshman in high school.

A month later, October 23 2010

AC_004 was Anthony Chalamet.

His two messages were from 2008. One explained that he asked my then friend, Violet for my username and the other told me to enjoy Boston. He even recommended a restaurant. Who, at age twelve, does that?

"I can't believe you said yes!" Amanda uttered, plopping onto my bed as I went into my closet, in search for my favorite sweater (it's white with my name embroidered at the sleeve.)

"I didn't know what to say." I reply out of truth, Anthony's choice of words left me dumbfounded. It was as if he agreed for me.

"And what about your mom? Did you tell her? What did she say?" Her questions collapsed onto each other as my arm extended to reached for the shoe box that contained the phone my dad gave me,

"I haven't told her."

And just when I opened the box, she stood in the doorway, pulling back her black hair, "So what you going to do?"

Her arms folded, pressing her shoulder against the door, "Not to be rude but your mom seems a bit—

Our eyes re-met, and I knew she was going to use the word I had in mind, "Controlling."

I closed the shoe box and placed it back where it was, all while responding, "She knows his family, I'm sure she'll be okay with it."

Still, she had an overbearing concern. "How are you so calm about the whole thing?"

Walking past her, I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know."

"Does that mean you like him?" she pushed, turning in my direction.

Lord. Have. Mercy. God, no.

"No— I— I don't like him." At that point my brows were pulling out of frustration.

"So why are you going on a date with him!" she exclaimed, throwing up her arms which triggered the pounding against my temples. "I don't know! I guess I'm—"

And before you could see, I sprinted to the bathroom and within a quarter of a second I was hurling into the toilet bowl.

"See, you should've said no! I told you it was a bad idea!"

At that point, I was tried of her voice.

"Amelia! Amanda! Mrs. Almara is waiting!"

"Here."

Amanda handed me a lap size of toilet paper but just as I thought the hurling stopped, another flow of stomach acid splashed into the water again.

"Should I get your mom?"

I shook my head a no before releasing another upchuck then felt the mucus gush up my throat. Spitting, I motioned her away. She immediately closed the door behind her.