This Is How To Be A Heartbeaker

Rule #1

A shooting star shot across the black abyss; a flicker of light in a pool of never-ending darkness.

That was it. That was my eccentric, quirky mother's explanation behind my name. She had been sitting out on the deck in my great grandmother Ruth's old rocking chair with her hand on her ever-expanding stomach, gazing up into the night sky with hope for a better future for the two of us. She had told me that she'd prayed that night, asking God to give her a sign to prevent her from signing the adoption papers she had already talked herself into scribbling her sloppy signature across the second I was born.

That shooting star, she liked to say, was her sign. I was her light in the dark she was in.

Sitting beside my best friend with her our feet kicked up on to the vacant seats in front of us, watching as Saturn morphed into Jupiter, thousands of stars spinning on its axis, I thought back to the endless nights we'd spent here; my scientist mother wanting to pass on every bit of knowledge she could before her life would unknowingly be taken from her.

"Oh, yeah, Sky!" Aliyah said excitedly, dropping her right hand into the bag of popcorn on her lap. "I got an A on my English revision."

Her words, clipped with the smallest amount of boastfulness, happened to be all it took to end the delirium I'd been in since we step foot in the Planetarium.

A supportive friend would have congratulated her at the mention of the destruction of the enemy she'd been fighting so hard she'd had to pick up a class over the summer. By some crazy phenomena my best friend had managed to fail English with an F. Which not only would have her off the cheer squad at the beginning of Senior year, but could prevent her from graduating. It'd been mind blowing to me, considering it was my best class and she hadn't ever mentioned anything about her grades dropping. Thing is, as good of a friend as I am, I couldn't forgive her for not telling me and after hours of bantering back and forth, I conjured up the bet. With any luck, it'd motivate her enough to do her best on the final revision.

If she got an A on her paper I would do whatever her pretty little mind could think up. If I won, she would have to sit through hours of foreign movies and crime dramas with me. And if there was one thing about Aliyah Donahue that the entire city knew, it was that she had the attention span of a two-year-old. Sitting through a movie, let alone one with subtitles, would drive her crazy. It had been the perfect alternative ending to get her up and using that big, awesome brain I knew was buried under that mess of blonde hair.

"Which means you have to do whatever I want." Aliyah continued when I said nothing, reaching out to poke my nose with her greasy, buttered index finger. "This year is going to be soo amazing!"

I swatted a strand of my dark hair out of my eyes as I turned to face her, eyebrow raised. "You've been scheming all summer, haven't you?"

Her big green eyes widened with excitement. "How else would I have been able to get through that excruciating report?"

Sighing, I uncrossed my legs, then allowed my eyes to fall on my best friend's long, bare legs, a mirror of mine with the exception of mine being clothed. She also wore a tight burgundy tank top that showed off all the curves she'd worked so hard to get over the last three years, her cleavage all but busting out from its confinement. I was in the very opposite; a long sleeve, oversized classic movie shirt I'd dug out of my mother's closet years ago. Somehow, watching the smile grow on Aliyah's face, I had a really bad feeling that her pestering about my fashion choices were about to become a lot worse.

"Okay, so you have to hear me out and let me finish. No interruptions."

I opened my mouth, but she waggled her finger in my face. Huffing out a sigh, I dropped my legs to the ground and shifted my body in her direction, giving her my full attention.

"Okay, so Senior year is the supposed to be the best year, the most important year of our lives, you feel me? Prom, senior pranks, graduation, all that. Well, I had this amazing idea that you totally are going to hate, but hear me out. One word; makeover."

I stared at her for a second, making sure she was serious, before I started laughing. "Good one, Ally, really."

"I'm serious." She snapped. "Come on, Sky. Let me show the world just how gorgeous my best friend is under all the boy clothes and beanies and knotted hair."

My laughter started to die down when I saw the seriousness sitting heavily in her eyes. Aliyah was serious. She seriously wanted to give me a makeover.

"A makeover." I repeated. "For what, like the first day?"

She snorted. "No, Skylar. I'm talking the entire year. I'll take you shopping with Daddy's credit card and I'll show you how to put makeup on."

"No." I said flatly, crossing my arms over my chest. The room was suddenly starting to feel claustrophobic and every inch of my body felt as if it were sweating. "I'm not going to change myself to prove something to the social hierarchy we call high school."

She reached out and took my hands in her own, batting her long eyelashes as she frowned. "I'm not asking you to change who you are, Sky. I love you and all your weirdness, Sky. I'm just asking for you to change your look a little. How about a compromise? Monday morning we go all out and make you over and if by the end of the day you never want to put makeup on again, fine. I won't bug you ever again."

The proposition sounded incredibly dangerous. I had books lining four shelves back in my bedroom that told me just how bad of an idea this was. But nearly eighteen years with Aliyah and I'd never once given her the opportunity to even paint my nails. And with all the hard work she actually put into the report, she deserved me to live up to my end of the bet.

"Okay." I caved.

Her head whipped up so fast I was scared she'd tweak her neck, but she didn't seem the least bit phased. Instead, she threw her hands over her mouth dramatically and squealed. "Did you just say okay? Oh my God, Sky. This is going to be the best year ever!"

I groaned as she squeezed the life out of me, then pulled away. She soon fell into one of her long rambling sessions, and though I was partially listening, I could gather what she was saying without giving her my full attention. It wasn't until we were back in her Barbie car-a pale blue Corvette her father had bought her for her sixteenth two years ago-that I started to consider just how bad this was going to be.

I'd spent my entire life in the shadows, blending into the scenery. Most of the time it was a blessing, to just be looked passed, or even not talked to. But after my mother passed three years ago and my older brother had graduated his way right into Harvard across the country, I was left with my alcoholic father who, like everyone else, only saw me when it was convenient. For the most part I was able to slip into and out of the house without a problem, but some nights, some nights I wished for nothing more than to actually be a part of the furniture. But as I turned my head just a fraction to get a good look at my best friend's blonde mane blowing wildly in and around her face, I swallowed the uneasiness and forced a smile to my face.

Everything would be okay. It would have to be. 

***

Unedited!