I'm Not That Girl

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

       “Oh, em, gee! Is that Betsey Johnson?!” Kara squealed, as I got into the car.

       “Umm… maybe?” I said, unsure of the answer to her question, though pleased nonetheless with my wardrobe choice. 

       In Kara’s world, if you wear anything non-designer you’re weird. She’s had an obsession with fashion since before I can remember. She’s like a hawk; she can spot the fact that it’s a designer brand, and figure out which one in a matter of seconds. True talent, I know. Growing up in such a hostile community like this, one learns pretty quickly what’s accepted and what’s not. Personally, I had found that trying to fit in, while having originality, is quite the struggle. The bottom line is that getting an outfit approved by Kara is like being put on the best dressed list- it’s a big deal.  

       “It’s a black dress, why does it matter what brand it is?” John questioned, looking at Kara as if she had two heads. 

       “Because, dumbass, it’s from Betsey Johnson!” Kara said, wanting to slap him.

       “Right... So, as I was saying, why does it matter?” he reiterated, not understanding that dropping the subject would be in his best interest at the moment.

       “It doesn’t!” I interjected, stopping the pre-WWIII from occuring.

       John, Kara, and I were on our way to a party. Well, not just any party, a private school kid’s party. Kids who go to private school tend to have a lot of money... well, their parents do. This fact means that the parties tend to be a bit... over the top, I suppose. Alcohol is everywhere and everyone is dressed to impress. Personally, I’m not the biggest fan of parties, but Kara wasn’t really asking me if I wanted to go, but more telling me that if I didn’t she would kill me with her expert skills she had acquired over the years from waching an extensive amount of NCIS.

       “Where’s Phillip?” Kara asked suddenly, looking both ways in the car as if he was hiding under one of the seats or she had missed him coming in.

       “With Gina,” John smirked, being the good driver that he is and turning around to face her briefly.

       “She got to him?!” Kara exclaimed.

       “Yup,” I sighed.

       “How?” she demanded, taking out a tube of lipgloss and quickly applying it to her lips.

       “Gina was alone with him, told him they were going together, and, being Phillip, he couldn’t say no without the repercussion of a guilty conscience,” John said, making a sharp turn that caused me to fly into the door of the car. I shot him a less than appriciative look.

       “Uh huh,” Kara said, understanding the situation, and rubbing her lips together to spread the glossy pink color.

       After a few more minutes of discussing our dear friend, Phillip, we arrived at a house. It was a slightly larger place, and music could be heard from it a good distance away. John parked the car in an empty space among many other vehicles, some I recognized from the parking lot at school.

       “May I?” John asked, holding his arm out for me to take, as I exited the car.

       “No,” I said plainly, as he rolled his eyes in response. The three of us walked on the gray cement of the sidewalk for a few minutes, until we reached the house. As we climbed the stone steps to the location of the party, the music and vibrations only increased. When we finally reached the lengthy, wooden door, John stretched out his hand, and rang the doorbell.