The Best Friend Goals

FRIENDS

I opened my eyes, feeling so fatigued. It's barely eight in the morning. I noticed that my neck was soaked in...sweat?

I was sweating.

Then I sat up on my fluffy bed, deepening the soft material by my weight, and bam!

A headache as equal as a train colliding with me rushed through my whole body.

I pulled my pillow and slapped it on my mouth to cover my screams. It was so painful I didn't know what to do.

I stayed there on my bed, seeing blankly, like a paralyzed animal. Waiting for the miracle of the headache to go away.

Then I felt something liquid-ish flowing on my butt. There on the white bed, I saw red spots, completely fresh and wet.

I have my period!

"Oh..." was all I could say.

I had barely cleaned my room. Within 45 minutes, a class with funny Mrs. Wimbleton will happen. And I'm still looking like a homeless crocodile on my bed.

I finally got the courage to stand up, feeling a little wobble, but walked past the mountains of unfolded clothes and everything, towards the bathroom.

I took the fastest shower anybody has ever had, brushed my teeth so quickly that it bled so badly it joined with the pain of headache I was already having, and then I managed to choose the worst clothes any student would ever set their dignity upon to.

I just realized as I walked past the front door of the school and myself reflected on the glass.

I was wearing a statement shirt saying, "The Biggest Loser." It was my aunt's. A souvenir from a TV show.

I barely moved on the spot.

But my eyes lay upon the bottom, which was a major bombshell. I didn't notice I was wearing a very fitted glossy pants that shined all the fats on my thighs.

I breathed heavily. "What the actual fu-"

"Claire!!!" It was Meghan.

"Meghan Cade Rickety, what on earth are you doing outside the school?" I said bossily but with a smirk.

She took no time to realize what I meant. We both understood each other very well. I hugged her, but more like body-slapped her.

"So, what's your story?" I asked her, referring to why she is also late.

She put her massive, musical arms over my shoulder as we walked past the corridors. "Well, I didn't feel like going to school. You know, I was so tired yesterday!" she raised her hands so wide it showed manly arms, "I had three gigs!"

"Well, thats good news, isnt it? Youre having the busy life." I stopped in front of her class, "About Luke. What you're about to say?" I asked puppy-eyed which looked more like a battered bullfrog.

"Later, girly." Then she entered her class, receiving sarcastic applauses from her classmates for the "Best Tardiness in School".

My class is a foot away and I was thinking of retreating. My clothes! They're awful!

The bell finally rang signaling the official start of this day's class.

Oh well...

I stormed inside Mrs. Wimbleton's class and braced myself for the crowd's insults and fake catcalls but instead, I got fearful, scared eyes.

"Goodmor-" I had barely spoke when funny Mrs. Wimbleton butted in.

"What good does a morning have? Sit down, lazy girl!" She commanded.