The Choices We Make

Chpt. 18: A Change In Plans

I carefully wrap my curling wand around another group of dreads, nearly finished with curling all of my hair. It wasn't often I curled the nest atop my head, for the mere fact that it was a difficult, time consuming process. Not only was my hair thick, but it also annoyingly long.

Plus I just always end up burning the hell out of myself.

In fact, this is the only time I've curled my hair without burning the hell out of myself. This day will go down in my mental book of world records.

To manage the length, I'd gotten a few inches cut off of my dreads early June, but it all has already grown back to my lower spine.

I'll have to get another haircut soon, I think to myself as I carefully hold the curling iron in place.

The only reason I was waisting my time on curling my hair was because of this stupid party. After I'd gotten home from shopping, Aaron came over and I ended up telling him about the 'lame' party I was invited to and how glad I was that he had something fun planned for just the two of us.

Apparently Aaron didn't agree, because he in turn called me crazy and rambled on about how much fun it would be. So I'd finally agreed to go after everyone outnumbered me. There was no way I was going to spend the fourth at home by myself.

I'd managed to convince myself over the past few hours that it couldn't truly be that bad. I and the rest of my friends all had dates, so we'd all have someone to stick with. I had Aaron, Grace had Wriley, and Jordan was invited by Ethan. Plus the boys would all be there, so I could talk to them too. In fact, they'd all be over anytime now to walk us to Gregory Simmon's house, a friend of Luke's where the party would be taking place. I'm just working myself up over nothing. I reassure myself, still not being able to shake my nerves. The only one who wasn't freaking out in one way or another was Grace. Grace was just pleasantly excited. I, however, had a nervous wreck brewing in my stomach, and Jordan... Well, let's not even touch on her.

I stick out my tongue and squint my eyes as I wrap the curling iron around my last section of dreads. Almost finished, and...

"ALEXIS!!" Jordan belts from Grace's bedroom for the fifth time in the past hour, successfully shattering everyone's eardrums within a ten mile radius and breaking my concentration, causing me to jump.

"What do you want, woman?!!" I groan back, whimpering and cupping the tender burnt spot now making itself at home on my ear lobe. So much for personal record.

"Where are those silver earrings you borrowed?!" She whines, causing me to cringe at her tone as I unplug the curling iron. I was always getting in trouble for borrowing earrings that I never remembered to return. Hell, I had a whole cluster of earrings I borrowed from Jeni on my dresser in this house that I was positive I returned before I left my home. Jeni eventually taped a label reading OFF LIMITS in big, bold, sharpie written letters to the top of her jewelry box after the sixth pair turned up mysteriously missing.

The "off limits" warning was enough. She didn't have to add; I'm talking to you, jewelry thief, In parenthesis beneath the bold print. I got the message.

I mean I haven't stopped borrowing her earrings, but I still understand the message she was attempting to portray.

"I gave them b-" I start to say as I pull out my mascara off the bathroom counter before Jordan cuts me off.

"And you better not say you returned them!" Jordan starts, making me roll my eyes before I lean towards the mirror to apply more mascara, my bottom lip falling open in the slightest. "Because I know you didn't." She finishes as I see her pop into the bathroom doorway through the mirror. Once I've put on enough mascara, I set the tube on the counter and examine my face. Along with the blue lipstick on my lips and rounded eyeliner on my lids, that was all I was going to do as far as makeup. I've never been that fond of wearing makeup in general, and even on special occasions the most I sometimes wear is mascara. I didn't make the decision to not wear makeup because I'm freakishly pretty or anything; I'm actually quite far from it. My looks are just below average, and I'd come to except them how they are rather than covering them with cakes of makeup.