People say to fake it til you make it.
But what happens when one boy inserts himself into my life, making it harder and harder to stick to my mantra?
My parents say to never get attached to anyone, not in our line of work.
But why do I keep trying t...
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Senior year.
Full of too many parties, lasts, and college applications. All of my friends were already talking about their last first party while we all waited for the last first bell to ring so we could start our last first day.
For me, though, I just want it to be over.
"Winter, hello? You're spacing out already?"
I turn to see (who everyone thinks is) my best friend, waving her long acrylic nails in front of me, "Sorry, Allison. What were you asking?"
"She was wondering if this was the year where we get to throw a party at your house," Bradley asks, slinging his leather-clad arm around Allison's shoulders.
These two are your typical run-of-the-mill popular couple, head cheerleader and quarterback of the football team, like a match made in heaven. The only difference is, Bradley likes to change his hair color more times than I could count. This only started happening around sophomore year, when a new student showed up, sporting green, almost mint, colored hair.
"Probably not. You know how my parents are. They're strict," I say.
This, of course, is a complete lie. If I wanted to have a party, my parents would probably say yes, and just stay at the hospital all night.
"Unlucky. Oh well. My parents are leaving on a ski trip soon. So I'll just ask them to conveniently leave the liquor cabinet unlocked," Allison says with a swish of her blonde hair.
As they continue talking about the last first party of our High School careers, my eyes wander around the cafeteria until they meet with a familiar but unfamiliar pair that are too dark to see the pupils. I've been meeting his eyes since he moved here almost three years ago. His hair is now a vibrant blue and the complete opposite of what he is wearing—deep green flower-print button down, same color jacket, and tan pants somehow don't clash with his hair's brightness.
"If you're going to keep staring, you might as well go and talk to him," Allison says, tapping my shoulder.
I jump, quickly looking away as I swat her hand away, "No, I'm fine."
"Good. I heard his family is in some kind of gang anyway," Bradley mutters, "Probably dresses like that, so he isn't spotted so easily."
"He's not part of a gang. His parents just own several clubs in the city," Allison says, "If he weren't so rude, I wouldn't mind him being in our group. We wouldn't have to bribe the bouncers to sneak in if we had connections."
I can't help but snort at her comment. Of course, the only reason she would want him in her group would be to use him.
Our High School is filled to the brim with cliques. The popular kids, the academic kids, the band kids, and so on and so forth. Too many for me to even keep up with, and I try to talk to everyone. But he isn't part of any group. Multiple have tried to talk to him and befriend him, but he smiles a painfully beautiful square smile, then declines, walking away like nothing happened. The only reason I know this is because Allison tried to sink her claws into him immediately, to no avail.
"Ally, I'm being serious. Multiple people have seen him talking with some high drug lords around here."
"I doubt that. Do you see how he dresses? He's like a little puppy. There's no way he would be in that sort of crowd."
The bell rings, signally for our last first day, and man, could it not end soon enough.
⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙
My house is empty except for the sound of paws clambering down the stairs. My Samoyed comes barreling towards me, armed with kisses and whines as I smile widely at my dog, "Hayan, did you miss me, girl?"
Hayan continues to whine as she follows me to my safe haven. My room is in the same mess that I left it this morning, trying to find the outfit that screamed 'HEY I'M A SENIOR' as Allison would say. My first three outfits of jeans and T-shirts weren't enough for her, so I had to dive deep into my walk-in closet just to find a tan corduroy skirt and a tight black shirt that I tucked in. I stare at myself in the mirror now, realizing that my outfit was pretty cute, but I feel like it just didn't fit me well. I'm more of a large chunky sweater with jeans kind of girl, which is the exact outfit I change into now. A light blue sweater with a small embroidered rainbow and sweatpants. Exactly what I need after a very long day.
I curl up on my bed with Hayan at my feet, scrolling through social media. Liking all of Allison and Bradley's posts they made through the day, "Hayan, we better start making dinner," I mumble, turning on some music as we head downstairs. My footsteps echo in the house, a sound I try to cover up with loud music as I start making something easy. I try to make different recipes and try new foods, but today was too exhausting. A chicken sandwich was all it was going to be.
I sit on the large gray sectional, scrolling through Netflix when my phone starts to ring, "Hayan, it's already 6:30. They must have had an emergency."
Hayan tilts her head to the side as she stares at my sandwich. I like to pretend she can understand me, but I know all she wants at this current time is my food.
"Hello?"
"Hi, baby. Sorry, our call is late. Are you eating?" my mom's soft voice rings through the phone as I take another bite.
"Yeah, a chicken sandwich."
"That's it? Winter, you need to eat more than that," my dad adds in.
"I'm too tired to cook today. It was exhausting."
"How was your last first day? Are you excited to start the new year?"
"Yeah, I am."
I don't add in the fact that I'm excited for it to be over. Not to experience it.
"That's awesome, sweetie. I'm happy for you. We'll be home later if you're still up, we can talk about your day."
"That's okay. I'm pretty tired. Don't expect me to be up."
"Okay, sweetie. Remember, you need to go shopping for a new dress for the charity event this weekend," my mom adds.
I can't help but groan, "Can I skip this one. Please?"
"Winter."
The tone in my father's voice makes me immediately regret talking back, "I'm sorry. I know. I'll get a new dress. What colors are you two wearing?"
"Your dad's tie is an icy blue. You can see my dress hanging up in the closet in the black bag."
"Okay, Mom. I'll find something this weekend."
"Love you, sweetie. See you tonight."
As she hangs up, I feel even more drained than before, if that's even possible. I love my parents, but as I get older, and they spend more and more time at the hospital, I just can't talk to them like I used to. They're amazing people, saving lives on a daily basis, so I try not to complain. And even if I did, my dad wouldn't take that lightly.
Abandoning my half-eaten sandwich on the counter, I head back to my room. The fairy lights twinkle, giving the room a calming effect as I sit in my tan fluffy chair that I have stashed in the corner, with bookcases on either side of it, filled with some of my favorite, and not so favorite, stories. I grab the book I left on the side table, letting the new fantasy world take me away from my own life that I can't seem to figure out.
