Welcome to Hayleywood

Chapter Six: The Great Escape

            I adjust the blue peasant top that I’m wearing over my jean shorts paired with my graffiti Chuck Taylor’s. I throw a gold chain with a large heart dangling at the end over my neck.  

            No, too much.

            I try a delicate silver necklace.

            Too little.

            I dig through my jewelry box until I find what I’m looking for. Ah-hah!

            I pull out the medium-thick silver chain and sling on my matching home key. I adjust the clasp and let it dangle right smack-dab in the middle of my tummy.

            Perfect.

            Okay, so you’re probably wondering what the big deal is. Why I tried on about twenty different outfits. 10 pairs of shoes. 15 necklaces. Why I’m obsessing over how I look as much as Caroline.

            I’m just going to tell you straight up: I’m going out with Cameron. God, that was not how it was supposed to come out. Not on a date or anything. It’s just-I’m not exactly sure what it is.

            Last night I got a text from him that said: I have a surprise 4 U. pick u up @ 7 P.M. tomorrow.

So I said: WHAT!?!?!? WHERE R WE GOING?

Then: Like I said, it’s a surprise.

Well, u could @ least tell me what the occasion is.

Occasion???

Event. Whatever. Do I have 2 dress fancy??

No, no. Just wear what u usually wear.

U have got 2b kidding me.

?????

Nvm. But I swear, if I’m-

U WILL BE FINE!!

Ok whatevr u say

7 o clock

C ya

J

:D

So, that’s what happened. I have no idea where the hell I’m going. This is gonna suck. I don’t know what to do.  

I stare back at my figure in the mirror. My hair is a mess. Well, I think it’s supposed to look like this (according to the shampoo), but, I’m not exactly sure. It’s kind of tousled looking, but you know, if you tilt your head a little to the right, it doesn’t look so-

Oh, that’s the doorbell.

Shit, shit, shit!

I unplug my Sidekick from the charger and stuff it in my back pocket.

I run down the stairs.

I’m so nervous. But, why??

I swing open the door, and there’s Cameron standing with his hands in his pockets, wearing a blue plaid shirt. He’s got his own pair of black Chuck’s on, and his dark hair is still wet, as if he just got out of the shower. And, he smells goooood.

Okay, what is wrong with me?

“Hey, Cameron!” I say enthusiastically.

“Hey, how are you?” he says.

“I’m fine. So, where the hell are we going?” I blurt out.

“I knew you’d be anxious,” he pulls his hands out of his pockets, taking out something blue.