Chomp

Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3: 

Wendy invited herself in, not waiting for me to step aside. She wore a short black dress with a single strap across the shoulder, her legs showing off the work of all those morning jogs. I pried my eyes away from her legs to raise a questioning eyebrow when she made herself comfortable on the couch, slipping off her heels. 

"I'll wait here while you get ready," she said reaching for the remote, "Just don't take too long." 

"But I am ready." It was her turn to raise her brows at me. 

She gave me a once over, taking in my plain white t-shirt, faded jeans, and sneakers. Her frown couldn't have deepened any more as she got to her feet and took me by the arm, dragging me in the direction of the stairs. I pulled away with a look of confusion.

"There's no way in hell you're going anywhere looking like that!" she declared, latching onto my arm again and breaking into my bedroom. Her face scrunched up as she took in the few pieces of clothing on the floor and draped across the back of my desk chair along with the unmade bed. Half of my blue comforter was on the rug on the wood floor and I couldn't find the slice of pizza I had a few days ago. 

"I suppose it could be worse," she mumbled, making her way towards my closet. I felt like she was violating my privacy despite the fact that I probably didn't meet dress code expectations. 

"Yes, just go through all my stuff without asking," I remarked sarcastically, sitting awkwardly on the edge of my mattress. 

Wendy turned around, ignoring my complaints. She held up a pair of dark jeans and a gray plaid shirt with long sleeves. Both items still had the tags and I cringed at the thought of walking outside in anything plaid. It was one of those awful patterns that somehow survived in fashion over the decades. Wendy tossed the clothes at me before fighting the stench of my shoes and scavenging for un-scuffed ones. I had three new pairs of shoes for the start of the school year, but I refused to ruin them before it was time. 

"These are nice," she smiled holding them up but I shook my head. 

"Not the Vans. What's wrong with the ones I have on?" they were a little worn but still in good condition.

"You mean other than the obvious?" she laughed dropping the new sneakers next to the bed. I sighed and decided that arguing was no use and it was too late to back out on the party now. Might as well get dressed. 

Once I was in new attire, I was surprised to find that Wendy wasn't going to try and comb my hair too. She said that it gave me "sex appeal and would draw in the ladies", whatever that meant. It was always dark and a little messy. Nothing sexy or special about it, but girls don't make sense on the norm. 

Jacey Green lived fifteen minutes away from the neighborhood where all of the houses turned into mansions. Hers was the largest with a well-manicured lawn, fountains depicting angels spouting water, and white pillars that stretched four stories high. It was already getting trashed by gross drunken teenagers with red solo cups and colorful streamers. The music was loud enough to be heard down the street where Wendy parked her car and we proceeded to walk.

My stomach felt bubbly presenting the sudden urge to vomit in the bushes along the sidewalk. I never really was into the whole party scene, partially because I didn't see the appeal of hangovers or teenagers at their worst. Wendy was oblivious of the nervous waves I was riding, texting someone on her phone and smiling to herself. The closer we got to the mansion, the sweatier my palms grew. 

I could still turn back. I could hail a cab and go home right now. 

"Wendy!" both our heads snapped up in the direction of the familiar voice.