~Edited~
It's Monday morning. But not just any Monday morning, it's THE-FIRST-DAY-OF-SENIOR-YEAR Monday morning. Whoopie.
I haven't heard the ear-assualting sound of my alarm in a whole two months. I've been without the aggravating stresses of homework, studying (not my best move) or any academic burden really, for two months. I've held a sixtey day streak of getting no less then twelve hours of sleep a night. Imagine how dissapointed I am, waking up from a measly seven hours.
I slowly open my eyes and try to get my brain to compute with this information. So far, all I'm getting is: "WARNING! WARNING! OVERLOAD OF HATE FOR SCHOOL! STARTING RENEWAL PROTOCOL 404 (HIT SNOOZE...AGAIIN)".
Wait! No! Not again, I'll be late.
Dragging myself out of bed, I grab my phone, probably not a healthy habit, and check my text messages, not surprised at all to see two from my best friend, Lauren.
WildThang: Hey Devyn u up yet? Don't know what to wear. (6:32 a.m)
WildThang: DEVYN!!!! Like I seriously need ur help! (7:03 a.m)
Now: 7:26 a.m. Crap.
DevsTheDiva: Hey! Sry, I just woke up. Call me...
As I wait for a reply I go to wash up in the bathroom, careful not to trip over any miscellaneous clothes on my way out the door. No reason to break my unneccesarily dirty room streak.
Unlike miss Lauren over there, I had already pre-picked my outfit: black, ripped skinny jeans, with a loose white V-neck top. I especcially loved the beautifully embroided roses that went down each flowy sleeve. On glance at it and I knew I had to have it. Thrifting changes lives.
In a well-practiced manner, I whip my flat iron out from under the sink, untangle the cord, plug it in, and turn it on to the third setting. With a sigh of reminiscence, remembering the old wake-up-at-noon days, I glance down at my phone. 7:36, still no call from Lauren.
I work on my hair until every single strand is in its place, taking time to add some volume to its styling. I take a moment to admire it in the mirror. Its chocolatey color contrasts the light tan of my face. I got a white momma and a black daddy with the hair texture to prove it. Countless shades of brown on my makeup bare face.
I'm rerapping the cord when my phone rings,a dorky looking Lauren filling its screen.
"Hey. You still need my help?" I ask, simultaneously pulling on some socks.
"Er...funny you should ask that. Can you unlock your front door real quick?" I freeze and relax again in a matter of miliseconds thinking, what did I expect? It's Lauren we're talking about here.
"Yeah, give me a sec," I say.
Ten seconds later I'm opening my front door to find Lauren standing with Lord knows how many outfits hanging from a plethora of hangers. Well I wasn't expecting that.
"Jeez Lauren. Come on we don't have much time!" I exclaim grabbing half the hangers from her and hauling them up my stairs.
____
At exactly 8:28, Lauren and I finally make it out of my house and into her car. For her outfit we decided on an oversized gray and black sweater with a black mini skirt. She braided her long blonde hair to the side and followed my "no makeup because honestly who we tryna impress" lead. We each packed a change of clothes for dance practice and jammed to the radio in her car all the way to Westwood high.
YOU ARE READING
Muse
Teen FictionWe're both out of breath by the time the song ends. This is it, this is the one. He looks up at me and smiles, I return it ten times over. "You know, this song reminds me of you," He says. My brow furrows in confusion. "How?" I ask. He walks towar...
