"Just one more drink," I tell Mackenzie.
"No, we aren't supposed to be here, our parents are going to kill us. Yours especially, since you're the preachers daughter," she says.
"Who cares?" I say a little bit louder than I should have.
"No, we need to go now!" she pushes.
She grabs my arm and pulls me out of the loud house party. I drunkenly laugh as she pulls me down the dimly lit and empty street. It's a beautiful night. Chilly, but beautiful. I gaze up at the stars as my friend pulls me into a building.
"I was looking at the stars," I say to her.
"Shhh!" she hisses at me.
"Rude!" I say loudly.
"Sarah, be quiet!" she quietly fusses at me.
I pout, shutting my mouth. She takes me up a few flight of stairs and through a door. I have no clue where I am, but I don't care right now. I feel great.
She pulls me into a room and leaves the door cracked.
"Now, go to sleep," Mackenzie tells me.
"I don't wanna," I say.
"Shh," she says quietly. "You need to."
"Okay," I say quietly and crash my head on the pillow. She covers me up and leaves, closing the door completely. I fall asleep within minutes.
I wake up to a pounding headache. I yank the covers off of me and sit on the edge of the bed. I rub my head. Wait, how did I get home? Last thing I remember is dancing in the middle of a crowd. Did I get drunk? Getting drunk is not my thing. I feel like I got kicked in the face by a horse. Why am I still in these clothes? What day is it?
"Sarah! Get up!" my mother calls outside of the door. "You're gonna be late for school!"
Shit! I get up and quickly get changed into my uniform. They are so damn ugly. Who thought of putting teenagers in a grey sweater with a red tie? I hate skirts too. I feel naked when I wear a dress or a skirt.
I brush my hair and fix my make up a bit. I spray perfume on, even though I'm gonna regret it.
Being allergic to perfume sucks. I do it anyway, the reaction isn't very bad, but when you have to sit through four ninety minute classes with a stuffy nose and feeling like you're going to suffocate is gruesome.
I head out to the kitchen to get some breakfast, even though I'm not hungry.
"Here's some toast," my father says, handing me a plate.
Nutella spread! Everything is okay as long as I'm eating Nutella.
I watch my dad prepare his wife's breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon in his preacher get up. It's such a plain outfit. I mean, my outfit is plain too, but still. He puts it all on a plate and sets it on the counter next to him.
"Thank you," my mother says when she comes out to the kitchen. She kisses his cheek and sits down next to me with her plate.
"Good morning, Louis," she says to my obnoxious older brother who sits on the other side of me.
"Good morning," he says. I finish eating and thank my dad before heading to the bathroom. My head is killing me! I get some ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet. I swallow it using water from the faucet, using my hands as a cup. I brush my teeth and then go back to my room. I grab my phone from the pockets of the jeans I wore last night. I grab my bag and put my phone in the front pocket. I sling it over my shoulders and walk back out to the kitchen.
