Snowflakes

December 5th

5th

"Being attractive is not an excuse for being a lousy person." - Unknown.

"Scarlett," Imogen moans, tugging impatiently on my sleeve. "Come on."

I sigh, trying to brush away the wisps of mousey brown hair that are repeatedly falling in front of my eyes. Despite scraping around in my locker for minutes now, I can't find the gift I'm almost positive should be awaiting me.

"I told you earlier, I want to get the early bus so I have enough time to get ready for tonight."

         I mumble something incoherent in a vague attempt to satisfy exasperated best friend. Finally, my fingers latch on to a tiny parcel wrapped into tissue paper. I pull it from my locker and stuff it into my pocket. Thankfully, Immy is too preoccupied by examining her appearance in a miniature mirror to see.

"Ready," I breathe, closing the metal door and leaning back against it.

"Finally; did you want me to go to the party of the year looking like this?" She gestures towards herself, as if to show how dreadful she looks. Honestly, I think she looks pretty, with only a small amount of mascara swiped across her lashes and dark hair swept into a ponytail. But apparently the event tonight is the most important thing everand a ponytail just won't do.

❄️

I quickly say goodbye to Imogen, making her promise to wait to pick me up before everything kicks off, and then get off the bus. Unlike usual, I don't feel so much in a hurry to open my gift. So, when I arrive into the comforting warmth of my own home I focus my attentions onto making myself a hot chocolate.

When Jay arrives home, barging through the door unceremoniously with a friend I don't recognise, I'm still curled up on the sofa although my hot drink was finished a while ago.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready for the party? Immy won't talk to you for, like, a month unless you go," he tells me. I throw a cushion at him. Soon, Jay and his mate have disappeared upstairs and I'm alone again. Sighing, I realise I probably should starting to get ready. After all, I haven't even planned what I was wearing.

I quickly send a snapchat to Imogen, pulling a face and captioning it 'what are you wearing?!'. She replies instantly with a blurry photo of what looks like a red dress. Mentally scanning through my wardrobe, I make my way to my room. No doubt I'm going to be in a rush later.

❄

The Bastille track I'm playing as background music is rudely interrupted by my mobile buzzing against the dressing table. An absentminded glance at the screen tells me that Imogen is on her way. Looking back to my reflection in the mirror, I quickly finish the eyeliner on my right eye. On examining my appearance, I decide it's best to ignore the fact it's a lot more wobbly than the smooth black liner on my left eye.

The doorbell rings and I rush to answer the door. I open it to find Immy stood in front of me in a red dress that seems to cling to her figure in all the right places. I glance down to my silver-blue dress and suddenly feel very awkward. I haven't dressed like this since... a long time.

She gasps, raising a hand with matching red nails to her mouth as she takes in my appearance. It's impossible to prevent the goofy smile that breaks out on my face. I missed how good it felt to get all dressed up.

I look the polar opposite to my friend I'm accompanying. She looks boldly stunning in her matching red dress, shoes, nails and lips. Her dark brown hair is twisted into the most intricate fishtail plait I've ever seen; it must've taken her hours. Whereas I'm taller, skinnier with olive skin and loose fair hair that falls just past my shoulders. My dress matches my appearance: light and simple.