Omens (wattys2016)

Four.

"So what happened last night?" Daphne asks groggily as I answer my phone. I glance at the time, eleven am. I wonder how she can sound so perky this early in the morning. She was two sheets to the wind last night and now she sounds as if she slept for a full week. I envy her ability to bounce back from a night of drinking so quickly.

"Nothing," I mumble sleepily into the phone, "Just some guy being all creepy. Like seriously, he showed up out of nowhere. Then he acts like I'm sort of science experiment come to life. Then he follows me around the party and pretty much refuses to let me leave."

I groan tiredly, trying to let my eyes adjust to the light flooding into the room. I look around the small space, making note to myself to spend at least some of the weekend cleaning up this place. The youth home isn't even half full and somehow I still managed to get the smallest room in the whole place.

"Maybe he thought you were hot," Daphne replies. I can hear the smile in the voice, hear the underlying tone. She is excited some guy, any guy, took it upon himself to pay me the slightest bit of attention.

"He told me my kind wasn't welcome there. Like, who even says that shit? He was a jerk."

I force myself out of bed, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror of the dresser. My hair is wild, shooting off me in various directions. The once perfect eyeliner is now smudged across my face. I look like a rabid animal.

"Or maybe he thought you were hot and was so stunned by your hotness that his simple man brain couldn't think of something nice to say?" she offers. I laugh at the thought.

"Guys do not find girls like me attractive. Remember Ian? You were convinced he was into me and it turns out all he wanted to do was get into my pants."

Daphne sighs loudly and I know I shouldn't have brought it up. I know she still blames herself for what happened last year. Ian Keller, head of the drama department and well known player, had spent weeks trying to convince me to go to dinner with him. Daphne was over the moon with happiness when I had finally agreed to go with him. She had even persuaded me to let her dress me up, sending me on the date in a short blue shirt and her 'man catching' black tank top. I had gone way out of my comfort zone with that outfit, trying not to care that some of my scars were showing.

Three hours, a bowl of poorly made spaghetti and a bottle of cheap wine later, we had ended up in the back of his truck. Ian had been quite the charmer, whispering sweet compliments to me the whole night. He had told me he didn't care about what had happened my freshman year. That he had had a 'thing for me' since he first saw me. That he even found my giant hoodie and loose pants attractive. I had let him undress me in the back of that truck, fingers fumbling clumsily in the dark.

By the time school rolled around the following Monday, everyone knew what had happened. His friends had been hiding in the woods near where we parked. They had taken pictures. Photos of my half naked scarred body had littered the halls. Ian had told all his friends and anyone who would listen how 'easily the freak girl had given it up'. It earned me snide looks from the girls who followed him around like lost puppies and rumors that not only was I a self harming freak but a slut as well.

"Sorry Daph," I apologized, the usual feeling of guilt making its way into my stomach, "I shouldn't have brought it up. You know I don't blame you for what happened with Ian."

Daphne had once again come to my aid during that ordeal. She had ripped the pictures from the hall and left Ian with a black eye that had lasted well over a month. She had even talked Aaron into 'having a chat with him'. His arm had been in a cast for two months after. I was thankful for my friends but no amount of threatening could take back what had been done.

"Omera," Daphne sighed into the phone, "You have to stop assuming that all guys are like Ian. Maybe you made him nervous. You were looking mighty fine last night, if I do say so myself. Aaron said his friend John couldn't stop staring. You should have stayed inside with us. It could have been fun. "

My phone begins to vibrate, the alarm I had set going off. Shit, I had an hour to get to work. Stipulations of being a ward of the state was having to keep a steady job once I had hit seventeen.

"I have to get ready for work," I inform her, cutting off her rant about how I shouldn't be so defensive all the time, "I will call you later."

I toss the phone onto the bed, rummaging through the pile of clothes on the floor. I find my uniform, black skinny jeans and a red shirt. Standard issued barista outfit for all employees. I run a brush through my hair, fighting viciously with the tangled mess. I give up halfway through, opting to pull it into a messy bun. It's not as if anyone is going to notice. I spend most of my time looking like I might actually be a homeless person.

I freshen up my makeup, wiping away all traces of last nights mistake. Lucky for me I at least have decent skin. Pale, but blemish free. I smooth grey eye shadow over my lids and throw a bit of lip gloss on. Hmm, I think to myself as I look in the mirror, I can almost pass for decent.