Soapy

Like the dish washing liquid?

Ding Dong

I ring the doorbell and wait for an answer. My phone is still warm in my pocket, I not too long ago called my mom to tell her where I was going. The apple pie in my hands is heavy, I don't know why my mom insisted I bring this with me to give to these people. She's so old fashioned. My grey cardigan is large and thick on my shoulders, the bottom of it dancing as if the wind was music to sway to. My glasses lie loosely on the bridge of my nose just screaming to be pushed up a little bit. Some of my curly red hair escapes from the bun at the top of my head, joining in on dancing to the wind. I groan and ring the door bell again.

Ding Dong

A sigh escapes my lips as I look down at the ground for literally anything interesting to focus my attention on. I end up just admiring my dirty white low top converse. I haven't cleaned them in, like, forever, and I refuse to do so, no matter how annoyed my mother gets by it. It's dirtiness gives it character. My eyes trail up slightly to my old jeans that basically give my legs almost no air to breathe, yet still somehow comfortable. My mother always told me not to wear black, it apparently makes me look paler than I already am. Maybe I shouldn't have worn this black t-shirt? The pie is getting heavy in my hands, what could these people possibly be doing? Hiding a body? Come on, answer the goddamn doo...

"Who are you?" a woman looking a little bit older than my mom answers the door in a somewhat unpleasant attitude. She wears a pantsuit and has the phone to her ear, probably has someone on hold. Her night black hair is pinned up in a bun just like mine, except hers isn't a complete mess and probably hasn't been up for the past week and a half.

"Oh um, yeah, hi," I stumble over my words in an awkward panic. I hate talking to people, always having this constant nagging fear of saying the wrong thing and fucking up. "I, uh... I'm Yustina, but people call me Yuppie-"

"I asked who you were, not what your name is." she interrupts, giving me a look that can literally eat the hearts of innocent children.

"I'm your neighbor." I say quickly, handing her the apple pie, waiting for her to take it. "My mother baked this for you. To be, uh, friendly, and welcome you to the neighborho-"

"How old are you, girl?" she interrupts again, making me feel even more anxious than I did before.

"Seventeen." my voice is now soft and small.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" she asks. Why the hell does she care?

"Y-yes." I stutter.

"Dawn!" she suddenly shouts, scaring me half to death.

"What?" I hear a girl shout back in the distance. Must be the girl my age.

"Here, now!" she orders.

We stand there awkwardly for a few seconds. She studies me, staring at my every move, making me feel incredibly uncomfortable. I show a brief smile to try to ease the tension but she doesn't change the straight line her lips naturally form. She looks like the type of person that's, like, literally always mad. Eventually, a girl walks up. She has pink hair put up into an absolutely perfect donut bun with baby hairs out on either side of her head. She wears glasses too but they put mine to shame. She wears a black t-shirt under a denim jean shorts  jumper, black low top converse and doll socks the same color as her hair. Her skin is super tan just like her moms, and her eyes are a beautiful light brown. She is literally everything I wish I looked like.

"What do you want? Who is this?" she snaps at her mother first, then looks towards me.

"Our new neighbor. She seems like a nice girl, go be social or something. Just leave, you've been annoying me all day." her mother complains.