Life With Mr. Malik (ON HOLD)

Chapter 22: Matured

Usually, I spent my Friday nights in bed, browsing through magazines I took from the Teachers' Lounge, occasionally making comments on how boring the articles are or how photoshopped the models look. But this Friday, instead of stroking models' bodies whilst murmuring a plea to magically look like them, I was staring into the mirror to check my outfit for tonight's party. Luckily, my mom foresaw this event (thank you parent-child telepathy!) and had me bring a cute dress and some short-cut boots. She even packed me some jewelry and though I felt like a Christmas tree with all these bracelets and necklaces, I thought I looked great.

"You look great," Wimpy's weak voice came from the distance.

I turned to look at her. Her hair was slightly straightened and neatly pinned on one side, making her look twice as mature. As usual, Wimpy was wearing a dress but instead of her usual floral ones, she settled on a more elegant-looking red dress that hugged her body and to be honest, if we pulled this off, I can make a rough calculation in my head of how many guys would ask for her number.

But believe it or not, it would take her years to decide whether or not she'd give it, considering how high her standards were thanks to her ingenious crushes. For Wimpy, if a guy was anything short from becoming the next Mark Zuckerberg, you could kiss that first date goodbye.

"You look good too, Wilma." I said honestly.

Her face flushed at my using her real name. With an evident blush in her cheeks, she looked at me with misty eyes and said, "Thanks, Miles."

We walked to the party arm in arm and no sooner than we had entered and made last minute touchups, the people started filing in and the room turned into an ocean of dancing bodies. Needless to say, I lost Wimpy into the crowd five minutes into the party. And to be quite honest, I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be worried or not.

Don't get me wrong; I trusted Wimpy enough to know she knew how to act around certain people in certain circumstances (i.e. If a guy offers you a drink with a funny smell, go for the classic kick to the balls). But at the same time, I didn't trust her ability to avoid giving into temptation.

Plus, it was her first party.

Who knew what that girl wanted to experience?!

Enjoying my time alone and trying not to clear my mind of any more worries, I headed straight to the thankfully healthy-snacksless snack bar and helped myself to some corndogs.

"Nice party, Mildred. I'd hate to see it crash and burn." A girl said from behind me.

I whirled around and came face to face with . . .

Them.

The Sexy Six.

Sweet Mother of Adolf Hitler, help me resist the urge to fling my corndogs at them for that is quite unethical and second, these precious corndogs deserve to hit people of greater worth.

The Sexy Six all wore pink matching leopard tops; some pairing it with skinny jeans, others shorts and the most daring ones with tight skirts. All of their faces, however, were caked with make-up, making it seem like they've been mauled to death by a box of Crayola.

You see, I really don't have anything against girls who like make-up and apply it on a regular basis, but if you came out of your bathroom with a coloring book for a face then girl, something ought to be fixed.

Trying my best not to let their spots make me dizzy, I raised my cup slightly. "Hey, girls! Have you come to see how successful my friend's first party is?"

A girl, who I recognized as Holly, stepped forward and looked around. "Where are the live performers? I remember when I threw a party. The performers were basically what made it such a hit."