The Ballerina & The Devil

Forty Four. Nothing More Than a Mask

"Hey," I smiled at Kenzie upon nearing where she stood at her locker.

"Hi-," she stopped short when she turned to look at me. Her eyes narrowed into slits, and she held up a finger. "Hold on."

I watched in confusion as she dug around her bag and extracted sunglasses. She slid them on and sighed in relief.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, the ugliness from that sweater was blinding. I needed some eye protection."

My jaw dropped, and I looked down at the sweater I was wearing. It was a blue turtleneck sweater with a white snowman stitched in the center and "xoxo" aligned at the bottom in a consistent pattern.

I thought it was cute.

"It is not ugly," I huffed indignantly, crossing my arms across my chest.

Kenzie threw a hand over her face and leaned back. "Oh my god! When you move the ugliness shifts in the light!"

"Kenzie! It's not ugly!"

"Demi, that is the ugliest effing sweater I have ever seen in my entire life," she took off the sunglasses and tossed them back in her bag. "It needs to be burned within the next twenty four hours."

"My grandmother made me this sweater."

"Okay....and? My grandmother makes me plenty of sweaters, and do you know what I do with them?"

"What's that?" I cocked an eyebrow.

"Light them up with a flame thrower and scatter the ashes in the wind."

"Oh, that's very nice," I rolled my eyes. "Would it kill you to pay me one compliment? Just one?"

"I don't know would it kill you to give me something to work with?" She tilted her head.

"The bitchiness," I waved a hand. "It just flows through your bloodstream, doesn't it?"

"I would like to think so," she shrugged. "And I compliment you all the time."

"Backhanded compliments don't count. Come on," I smacked her arm. "Give me a compliment. It's not that hard."

"Hmmm," she tapped her chin looking me over. "Well, today you aren't really helping your case. You kind of look awful."

I scoffed. "Thank you, Kenzie. Always one to boost the self-esteem."

"Well, it's true! I'm not gonna lie. You have the most awful bags under your eyes," she leaned in closer, frowning. "Did you have trouble falling asleep last night?"

"You could...say that."

And by that I meant I didn't sleep at all. After the conversation with my mom I spent a restless night tossing and turning as guilt ate at my conscious.

I wanted to come clean about relapsing, I really did, but I couldn't bring myself to form the words. I knew the guilt would only increase when I saw the disappointed looks on everybody's face when they found out I wasn't as strong as I pretended to be.

"You okay?" Kenzie's face creased in worry. "Are you sick or something?"

Or something.