Stranded

I stood in front of the mirror admiring the girl smiling back at me. My straight dark hair was in a high, layered pony tail and my eyes were popping against my pale skin with the help of five different mascarras and dark-as-hell-black eyeliner. I bent over my short bathroom counter and applied lip gloss.

Tonight I was going to the hottest party of the summer and to see "MidFright", the newest horror movie with my friends Cassidy, Drake and Lance, my sixth grade crush. Ok, really I was tagging along. Lance had originally asked Cassidy to go with him but Cassidy's parents refused to let her go one on one with a boy. So that's were I come in. Drake was invited just so Lance wasn't the only boy in our group.

I stepped back from the mirror and looked at my full reflection. I looked good. My dark designer jeans, white tank top and cork heels looked great. I ran my hands smoothly along my curves to straighten out any wrinkles that my clothes might have. I gave the mirror one last look then headed to the kitchen.

I took a seat on the middle bar stool and started to slowly spin.

"Morgan, don't spin the stool," my mom's voice said from the pantry.

"What's the point of having a stool that can spin if I'm not aloud to spin in it?" I complained.

Her dark eyes threw me a warning look as she peered at me around the corner from the pantry. "Morgan," she said my name again, firmly.

I huffed and grabbed the counter with my painted fingers. The stool and my body instantly stopped spinning. She came out from the pantry in a red pencil dress with matching heels and accessories. My mom is a beautiful intelligent woman which I inherited all my looks from, except her nose.

She tossed me a bottle of Vitamin Water. I reached out my hand and caught it perfectly. After uncapping the bottle I eyed her.

"Going somewhere?"

"Job interview," she replied then looked at me strangely.

"What?"

"Come into the kitchen," she demanded.

"Okay?" I said but it came out more like a question. I stepped off of the stool and into the kitchen.

She looked me over for all of like five seconds then shook her head. "Nope, go back," she said pointing back to my room. "Not good enough for a party and a double date."

"It is not a double date!" I protested.

"Whatever, just get your ass back in your room. I'm picking out your outfit," she said taking a couple steps forward.

I groaned and dragged my feet back to my room. Don't get me wrong, my mom has impeccable fashion sense its just she always thinks that she has to fix everything.

I plopped down on my purple spread queen size bed. She opened my closet door and skimmed through my clothes. She pulled out a red layered tank, eyed it and threw it on my bed. I had to duck for the hanger to barely miss my head. She did this a couple more times with different colored tops and skirts.

I looked at my I-phone clock. 5:28. Drake was coming to pick me up at six! I fell back on my bed in defeat.

After what felt like forever she took in a sharp breath, "I've got it!" she exclaimed and squealed.

I mentally thanked fate and sat up. She was holding up my white shirt that had a black paint splattered design on it and had slits in the back that were being held together by threads along with a black strapless under tank and a black layered pencil skirt. I just stared in awe. I didn't even know I had those in my closet.