Dreams

Chapter 2.3

I've known Chelsea longer than almost anyone, and despite any name stereotypes, she's really a great person, and not even particularly shallow. Her official role is my best friend, her unofficial role is the one who makes me look prettier by comparison.

That was terrible too, but we're not starting over because it was true, and I hate that it was true, that I'm the kind of person who even considers that. I decided to write the real parts of me, but I didn't say it'd be pretty. Obviously I didn't choose her as my friend just because she makes me look better, I'm not that  terrible.

But back to what was happening.

I leaned against the wall and groaned. I was far too tired to relish the idea of tramping past endless stores, on terrible linoleum, and advising the girls on exactly which of a hundred and fifty lipsticks looks the best with their skin tone.

"Okay." I said, peeling off a sweater, "Thanks, I'll call her. I'll be in my room, mom, I have homework."

"Do you want any food? I made brownies." Brownies are delicious, and possibly one of my favorite things ever in the universe. And I was starving. But I still hesitated. Maybe because I don't want to be that fat one in my ballet class, or because while I may be marginally prettier than Chelsea, I'm not necessarily skinnier.

"Yeah, a brownie sounds great, would you bring one up to me?"

"Your wish is my command, darling!" she called dramatically. I rolled my eyes even though she couldn't see me. My mom can be such a dork sometimes. She was going to be an actress and then she had a major career switch and decided to become an English teacher, so all things considered she enjoys being ridiculous and borderline embarrassing far too much.

I went up to the quiet sanctuary of my room and sat down at my desk, but I actually had absolutely no intention of doing homework.