Antisocial at Its Finest

In Disguise

Chapter Ten

Evangeline's P.O.V.

The party had made realize some stuff.

One: I don't have actual friends that like me for me, and not my drugs.

Two: I really should get to know Harley better. She seems nice.

Three: I need to stop with the drugs. The morning after, I was so nauseous and frail and nasty. It was terrible.

Four: I like someone... more than a friend, and more than just a hookup situation.

I shrug off the idea of the person. Though it doesn't work. The image of that person is stuck on my mind.

I get out of bed and stretch. It's very nauseating, and I rush to the loo to puke.

"Are you alright?" I hear my mum call. I flush the toilet and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. She doesn't know I went to the party. I'm still dressed in my yesterday clothes.

"Oh, yeah," I lie, "I just stretched the wrong stomach muscle!"

"Alright then, sweetie!"

I hear the sound of a frypan and sizzling strips of meat. She's making bacon! I get back to my room and get dressed in skinny jeans and a loose, but not extra large, T-shirt with a cartoon picture of corn, captioned: CROP TOP, with white flats. It may be tacky, but it's hilarious and my favorite shirt.

I then run downstairs to get to the kitchen. "Hello, sweetie," my dad greets from the kitchen table. He's drinking hot tea and reading the obituaries in the papers. He looks up and calls out to my mum, "Darling, did you know some bloke died from getting hit by a bus yesterday?"

"Oh dear, that's no good way to go." She returns to frying the bacon as I grab an apple on my way to take a seat across from my dad. He smiles at me, and I return the grin.

They don't know what I do at night, so they think they have the perfect daughter. It makes me feel like I'm in disguise; that I'm hiding the real me.

I take a large bite of the apple, tasting the familiar sweet yet sour taste of the green apple. The red ones are sweeter, but I'm not much of a sweet tooth.

I glance at the time above the oven, telling me that I need to get going to school. "Oh, I have to get to school."

"Oh, really? You can't stay for bacon?"

"I wish. But my friends are expecting me."

"You have friends?" my dad jokes. I roll my eyes with a smile. "Yes. And they're waiting. Bye!"

I set the apple in my mouth, so I don't have to hold it, and run out the door, picking up my bag as I go.

*~*~*

"Alright, class," Mrs. Howard calls out in her relaxed voice, trying to get everyone's attention. "This," she says, pointing to the boy to her left, "is Mr. Faust. He's new here, at Melody Beach High. " He spoke up in a deep voice, "It's, uh, Phoenix."

"Well, Phoenix, today were studying quotes. You came on a lucky day. Choose a seat next to whomever you think is cutest," she says, trying to play matchmaker.

He takes a seat next to Harley, and she blushes. I think they already met in the hallway. I remember seeing her talk to him. Ugh, gross, I think.

"The earth has music for those who listen."

- Shakespeare

I look at the quote on my paper, absorbing the words. This is my favorite quote. It says so much.

I look behind me to see Harley. I whisper, "Psst, Harley."

She tilts her head up slightly, as if to check who it is. I can see her eyes light up when she realizes it's me. "Hey," she whispers in return.

I try to see what she wrote on her paper. "Hey, what's your quote?" I ask. She blushes. "Oh, it's just... It's nothing."

"Tσ ∂ιє ωσυℓ∂ вє αn αωfυℓℓу вιg α∂νєnture"

- Peter Pan (2003)

"See? It's just... a little... stupid... quote. Not important," she says as if she is embarrassed.

"I think it's lovely," I say with a soft smile.

"Yeah, it's really a nice quote," someone pipes up. I look over at Phoenix, who seems to be staring at Harley, rather than her paper.

No, no, I think towards him, meanwhile knowing he can't hear me, don't fall for her. She likes someone else. Sure, he broke her heart. But they'll end up together. Back off, bird boy.

When he finally notices me watching him watch Harley, he awkwardly clears his throat and looks back at his own paper, which has a relatively adequate quote.

"ı'۷ɛ ʂ℘ɛŋɬ ʂơ Ɩơŋɠ ıŋ ɬɧɛ ɖąཞƙŋɛʂʂ. ı'ɖ ąƖɱơʂɬ ʄơཞɠơɬɬɛŋ ɧơῳ ცɛąųɬıʄųƖ ɬɧɛ ɱơơŋƖıɠɧɬ ıʂ."

- ƈơཞ℘ʂɛ ცཞıɖɛ

His writing is a bit hard to read, but I think, Really? Corpse Bride?

"Nice quote," I say flatly. He smiles at me, flashing his dimples. "Thanks."

I could tell I wasn't going to get along well with this guy. Not at all.