The Mendacity of Winnie Hart

Chapter Five

The weekend was filled with a whole lot of nothing. I finished my homework on Friday, which left the next two days free. My mom was gone for most of it, picking up extra shifts when she could, and Wren didn't make good on her promise to hang out. She said her parents grounded her from leaving the house because of her grades. She'd complained about it relentlessly over the phone until I heard her dad come in and take it away from her.

Now on Monday morning, my worries about Noah West were basically nonexistent. Wren was right, after all. How could he possibly care enough to do something to me?

Wren gasped, and tugged something out of my closet to toss at me. She said she'd wanted to come get dressed together before we left, for what reason I have no idea. I'd reluctantly agreed after she spent a half hour badgering me about it, with some colorful threats thrown in as well. Our styles weren't very similar, but she was digging through the bevy of clothes to find something for herself as well. "I forgot to tell you! Someone must've given Ash my phone number because he was texting me all weekend."

"Oh, I wonder who it was," I replied, trying to look nonchalant as a smile tugged at my lips. Wren looked at me but did a double take when she saw my expression.

"You're the one who did it? You little traitor," she said, smacking me with a pair of pants. I was knocked to the side slightly from the impact. "Do you understand what you've done? He asked me what my favorite movie was yesterday."

I feigned horror, and exclaimed, "Oh no! I can't believe he'd ask such a despicable question. What ever will you do?"

"I told him it was Annie figuring since he's a guy he wouldn't be into it, and would drop it. But apparently he likes Annie. Says his mom took him to see it live when he was little. Imagine that," she muttered, tearing through my clothes with a certain ferocity I didn't see often. "Here, wear this."

I barely managed to catch what she threw at me, and I spread it out in front of me to inspect it. It was a pleated skirt, similar to the one I wore a few days ago, but not plaid. "I wore a skirt on Friday."

"Wear one again! You have a bunch, and you know you like wearing them," she said, putting aside a pair of jeans for herself so she could start looking for a shirt.

I made a face and pulled my legs up to a criss-cross position on my bed. "I mean, they're easy and cute, but it's getting colder outside and wearing skirts means I have to shave and-"

"Just wear it," she groaned. "You like them."

"Fine," I relented, and chose a shirt myself to pair with it. Since skirts were revealing enough, I usually paired them with baggier shirts, and in this weather definitely long-sleeved ones. I left Wren to her own devices so I could go into the bathroom to change.

When I flicked on the light, the bathroom became illuminated in a soft glow. I glanced at my reflection once before turning to the side and getting dressed. The same way I didn't like people looking at me change, I didn't like looking at myself change. As soon as my eyes would settle upon one of the scars on my upper body or back, I was filled with paranoia. Paranoid that they'd be given to me the same way I initially received them years ago. A fear that couldn't be dissuaded, lodged into my mind for what I assumed would be the rest of my life. Sometimes I hated myself when I thought about that. I avoided mirrors the best I could.

Once I finished I walked back into my room to find Wren had swapped out her clothes for some new ones for the day as well.

"That's a lot of celestial beings," I observed, noting the moons and suns and stars decorating the pants and t-shirt she was wearing. She'd put her hair up in a messy bun, held together by a black scrunchie. My hair was left hanging limp down to my ribcage, the dead ends being a constant reminder of how badly it needed a cut.