When The Going Gets Tough

Chapter 7

When The Going Gets Tough

Chapter 7

(Christina's P.O.V.)

            "And remember, if all else fails, just go back to talking about football or hot chicks," reminded Ana, as she patiently pinned back the last strand of my long, blonde hair underneath a maroon baseball cap.  Nodding in silent agreement, I shot a quick glance at the nearest digital clock, and clicked my tongue with frustration.

            "Are you done yet?  It's almost time to go, we can't show up too late, or else there won't be enough time," I muttered anxiously, tapping a sneaker-covered foot on the hardwood floor.   If the plan was to be successful, there needed to be some extra spare time, just in case we ran into any technical difficulties. 

            Ana sighed, flicking my shoulder in irritation. "Will you calm down?  I'm just about finished, so shut up, and let me concentrate."

            Rolling my eyes, I suppressed my retort, and took to passing the time by staring nervously at the ticking clock.  The ominous silence that filled the room became uncomfortable, and caused me to shift awkwardly in my position.  After what seemed like an hour, but most likely was only a minute, Ana spoke.

            "Well, that's the last of it, I hope this is convincing enough."

            Cautiously peering out of the corner of my eye over at my friend, I lifted an eyebrow. "And what if it's not?"

            "Well, then you're screwed."

            Oh.

            Good to know.

            "Okay, well, here goes nothing," I muttered, biting down on my lip.   Just as I was in the motions of turning around, Ana abruptly stopped me by placing a small hand on my shoulder.

            "Listen, and if this doesn't work out, it's not the end of the world.  There are other fish in the sea, you know," she pointed out gently, while looking me square in the eye.  I nodded, more to convince myself of that statement, then anything else.  "Then with that said, you can look now."

           With a deep breath, I apprehensively turned on my heel to face the floor-to-ceiling mirror behind me.  As I came face to face with my reflection, disbelief caused my mind to go numb in shock, for the sight before me was not what I had been expecting at all.

            It was much, much more.

            Dusty, dark-blue converses peeked out from slightly baggy, light wash denim jeans, which hid most of the baggy, plaid boxers that barely curved up over the waistband of the pants.  A bright, white t-shirt was concealed by a smooth, black leather jacket, hiding the fact that my chest had been taped back with cloth bandages.  But though the outfit was awesome, that wasn't what had caused my draw to unhinge, and drop to the floor in shock.  It was the absolutely fabulous job that Ana had done to my hair and face, which made the entire getup so completely convincing. 

            My long, blonde hair had been twirled up into a high bun, and was hidden beneath a wig that was surprisingly the same color. The wig swept across my forehead, the lowest point partially covering one of my wide, staring eyes.  Barely reaching the nape of my neck, it hung perfectly above the collar of the jacket.  My eyebrows had been thickened slightly with pencil, and realistic, light blonde sideburns had been sketched slightly past my ears.  It was amazing, I had miraculously achieved the image of a casual, cool looking guy.

            It was amazing.  It was awesome. It was, it was…

            It was kind of creepy.

            A small silence followed the revealing of my newest appearance, and for a moment, I didn't know what to think.  I stood there, staring, unable to tear my eyes away, thinking only one single thought.       

            I make one hot dude.

            A movement from behind me caused me to jump, and I looked to my immediate right to Ana, who had moved up next to me.  "You know, you don't have to do this. I know I already said this, but I have the feeling that this scheming, and lying, is only going to lead to something bad," she said softly, watching my reaction.

            I pressed my lips together, watching them form a straight, white line in the mirror.  Ana was right, was being a fake worth getting the guy?  Was throwing away all caution, any reputation that I had, worth getting Blake?

            No, but that didn't stop me.

            "Yes, I'm prepared to face all the consequences if this screws up," I said in a confident tone of voice, turning to look Ana directly in the eye. "What's the worse that could happen, anyways?"

            Ana opened her mouth, and then closed it again. As I waited for her response, something flashed through her eyes, a look that I couldn't quite place, but was gone as quickly as it came.  Ana sighed and looked down, picking a piece of imaginary lint of her sweater, shaking her head as she did. I frowned, about to question her actions, when Ana finally looked up. "Well, then if that's your choice, then you better get going."

            "Yeah," I confirmed, and began to walk towards the bedroom door. "So, how are we going to get there, I-"

            "Christina, did you even listen to what I just said?" Ana murmured in quietly.

            I stopped in my tracks, realizing Ana hadn't followed me. Turning, I looked at her in confusion. "What?"

            Ana let out a large sigh, and looked at me with sadness in her eyes. "Christina, I said that you had better get going.  I'm not coming with you, I've helped you enough. I'm done."

            I narrowed my eyes, processing what she had said. "But you said you'd come! Come on, it won't take that long-"

            "Christina," Ana interrupted, her voice cold. "I don't want to get caught up in your big web of lies that you spin, that help you get your way.  I'm sorry, but when I asked for a best friend, I didn't ask for one that told more mistruths than truth.  Good luck getting Blake, I hope he's worth your best friend," and with that, Ana Radford, my best friend, left the room.

            I stood there, shocked, my mind drawing a blank.  I gazed at the door, pointlessly hoping to see Ana reemerge from the hallway, laughing at the look on my face, saying that she had been overreacting, that my plan was brilliant.  Because Ana was my best friend, my consultant, the one I depended on. Ana had to come back, she had to. 

            But she was gone.

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Hey guys and gals! :D

Christina here, with the is the newest chapter of When The Going Gets Tough. I'm going to be getting to more typing again, so look out for more! I'm thinking of taking a different direction in the story, so hold on to your seatbelts, kiddies! Things are about to get TOUGH. Haha, wow, please ignore my lameness, I get it from my dad. Which is kind of sad, because he get it from my Grampa Joe, who keeps a dog bowl on his frontporch, in the hopes of scaring away burglars. Except, he doesn't exactly own any pets; just a dog bowl, a wardrobe consisting of only plaid dress shirts and kakies, and a pantry filled with canned vegatables and Malto Meal.

...MOVING ON.

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TheAwesomeBlonde <3