Stereotypical

XI| She, Who Couldn't Handle Crowds

Mood:

"Nobody's Perfect"

-Jessie J

(I was just listening to it while I was writing this)

It was Friday.

And Parker was in my living room.

With three other human beings.

I'd locked myself in my room, hoping to get a nap in before I got cranky. I was just beginning to doze off when a loud thud downstairs shook me awake. I blinked blearily, annoyed. Parker just had to bring his stupid friends to my house. Not only did he make himself and everyone else at home, but he refused to leave when I asked.

I shoved my feet through a pair of pajama pants and put a flannel over my tank top. I threw my bedroom door open and stomped downstairs. I heard someone shushing the others, and when I arrived in the living room, everyone had struck unnatural poses across the room. My father's radio was playing some unnamed song, and there was popcorn strewn around the carpets.

My glare traveled from Parker and Dove, past Reagan and Brian, and landed on Camilla. I inhaled sharply. She hadn't been here before I'd gone to bed. The little shit invited her only after I'd left. Her eyes met mine and she smirked. "Look who's awake. Did you sleep well?"

"Why do you always address me like you know everything?" I demanded. "And why are you people making so much noise?"

"Look who's talking," a boy named Nate said not-so-quietly under his breath.

I pretended not to hear and went into the kitchen. I took a water bottle and began chugging, putting my growing attitude in check. I didn't like people. I didn't like people in my house.

The only indication that someone had been following me was then a feminine shriek made me drop the bottle. Water sprayed from my mouth and nostrils. It was Dove, a girl known for her skill in volleyball and supermodel looks. Her blonde-streaked brunette hair shielded her face as she crumbled in the dining room area. She'd tried to grip a chair, but ended up bringing it down with her.

I went for her, but Reagan beat me to it. "Hey, what happened?"

I wiped my nose and mouth. Bending down, I recovered my water bottle and tossed it into the sink. I snatched a wad of paper towels and dropped it into the puddle of water that had accumulated. A wave of numbness washed over me as Dove blubbered out her story.

"I-I stepped on something." she combed her waist-length hair back with her fingers, revealing tear-streaked cheeks. Black mascara trailed down to her chin.

Parker slid across the floor on his knees. "Here," he said gently, "let me see it."

Dove hesitantly extended her foot towards him. He took it and she flinched away as he examined it. I saw red smeared on her sole and shrunk away. Glass. Parker pressed on the ball of her foot and she whimpered. By the time he'd gotten the glass out, Nate, Camilla, and Brian had gathered around. I occupied myself with peeling a cutie while they muttered to each other.

How funny, I'm being whispered about in my own home.

Parker stood, told Brian to get a paper towel, and walked over to me. He held the shard of glass up, which was about as long as my pinky nail. "Dude."

"Yeah?" I kept my eyes down on the cutie. My fingers tensed, squeezing the soft fruit. "Did she twist her ankle or something?"

He took me shoulder and turned me to that I faced him. "Carson. Why do you have glass on the floors?"