The Bet {l.h.}

last night

I vaguely remember my best friend interrupting my studying by pounding on my bedroom door. "Get off your lazy ass! We have some partying to do!"

"Just let me get ready!" I yelled at him. It was his idea to go to some big party after school and do who knows what. I agreed to it, but only because I needed to have some fun and stop stressing out about school.

He invited himself into my room and jumped onto my bed at the same time as I threw myself off the bed in an attempt to motivate myself. I stood up and poured myself into a pair of black high-waisted skinny jeans. He snickered quietly to himself before telling me that I looked like a hot mess. "At least I'm hot," I retorted while walking to my closet.

I picked out a white crop top that showed off a small strip of my pasty white skin and black belly button ring. I yanked it over my head and walked into the bathroom that was connected to my tiny room. I started straightening my hair when he came in with some of my school books and took a seat on the closed toilet lid.

"So what are we studying today?" he asked, looking through my neat notes.

"Calculus. I have a huge test Monday," I replied as I continued to eliminate any waves in my hair.

"How many people know that you're actually really smart?" he wondered out loud.

"Just you," I sighed. Most people at school just thought I was a slut, but I haven't exactly given them any reason to think otherwise. In reality, I always got A's in school and I loved to read and I dreamed of one day becoming something more than one of the bland people who roam the streets on their way to the bland job that they hate. I wanted to be different; I wanted to be special.

He came up behind me and took the flat iron and helped me get the one spot in the very back that I could never get. "Thanks, Mike."

He examined my face in the mirror for a moment. "You're welcome. Do you need anything else?"

I pursed my lips together and met his eyes in our reflection. "Do you think you can formulate a good enough alibi that my parents will actually let me leave the house?"

He smiled, knowing exactly how strict my parents were. They never let me leave the house unless it was important. However, they adored Michael and always listened to him. The only reason they let me do anything with a boy is because this boy wasn't into girls like me. Or girls at all.

"Yeah. I think I can manage something," he said before leaving.

"Thank you!" I shouted to his retreating figure as I applied a small amount of eyeliner to my lower lash line and a bigger amount of mascara to my eyelashes. After smearing on a coat of cherry red lipstick, I examined myself in the mirror.

I looked pretty average. Blonde hair with natural highlights, an ordinary nose, and plain red lips. My eyes were my best feature. Dark brown ringed the outside and turquoise seeped from around the pupils. In between the two was a hazel with gold specks. I smiled to make sure that my teeth were clean of any lipstick, running my tongue along my straight teeth. Ah, the braces days.

All throughout middle school, I wasn't very attractive and I really didn't have many friends. That changed on the first day of freshman year. Over that summer, I had finally had a growth spurt (reaching 5' 8") and got my braces taken off. I had obtained a lovely golden tan and finally discovered makeup.

I learned that being a senior in high school is much different than being an eighth grader in middle school. If you were hot, everyone wanted to be you or be with you. High school was about drugs and sex whereas junior high was about periods and pimples and you needed  to have everyone to like you. Which brings me to Michael, my only real friend.