My Star's Light is Overrated |✓

43|| Formal Dinners are for Food

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Chapter 43: Formal Dinners are for Food

Okay, no inspirational stuff today. I just wanted to say I ate a cookie. It was a good cookie. Piece of advice: If there is ever a cookie in front of you, don't be afraid to eat it.

~Starlight24

"Hay Day," Mom said as I literally rushed into the house, collapsing onto my knees. I'd made the mistake of thinking my fractures were okay today and I'd walked around, but my legs were dying more than before.

"Hey," I said, offering her a wan smile. Today had been far too drama-filled for my liking. Dumb Dylan practically followed me around the school and I literally lived in the girl's bathroom. He probably got my message about the neighbor thing.

"You need to be ready by seven, okay?" she said, before gazing at my swollen leg. "I told you to go in your wheelchair, smarty pants," she said accusingly.

I shrugged and bit my lip. "Mother knows best?" I said, hesitantly. Tangled references always made life easier on everybody.

She cracked a smile at that. "Honey, we're going out for dinner, alright? Derrick has a new colleague, and we're going to have dinner with his family..." she paused and shot me a knowing smile. "You may want to dress well," she advised, before wriggling her eyebrows.

"What does that mean?" I asked, defensively. I was supposed to dress up for some new colleague? Nah... no can do.

"Just trust me," she winked, before strolling into the kitchen and laughing a little giddily.

I'd rather not.

*****

"I feel so gross," I complained, looking at myself in my phone using the front camera. "I feel so incredibly fake and dolled up. I don't feel the need to get so ready to see some random person."

Mom and Dad grinned. "Oh, they're not random, per say," Dad assured me, before shooting Mom a knowing smile. I groaned loudly. This had been going on for the past two hours. Dad would say something cryptic and Mom would grin, and the two of them would look at me all sly.

I then proceeded to excuse myself and wheel my way to the bathroom, where I really wanted to take off my dress and flush it down the toilet.

My reflection stared back at me, taunting me to scream or something. Trust me, I nearly did.

My hair was straightened and let loose across my shoulders over a strapless, blue satin dress. My mother had actually painted my face with what people these days called makeup, apparently.

Gross.

My legs jutted out of my short dress helplessly as if showing everyone that I was evidently unable to walk. I hated how absolutely awful I looked. I didn't even want to make an effort... I was in a bad mood to begin with, for crying out loud!

I wheeled myself back to where my parents were seated. "Why are we still waiting? Can I start eating?" I asked, and my stomach growled in response.

Mom stared at me like I was crazy. "No, that's incredibly rude!" she exclaimed. "The family is nearly here. The boy had some soccer practice, apparently."

Oh, maybe this was why Mom made me dress up, for some boy. Well, I was going to be off boys for a while. They never really worked with me.

"Formal dinners are for eating," I informed her wisely. Dad rolled his eyes.