Welcome To My Masquerade

The Note [1]

*Chapter 1: The Note*

I woke with a startle. The loud beeping noise echoed through the room. I turned my head and then noticed the alarm clock on the nightstand. I groaned as I smacked my hand down on the off button. I then fell back and sank into the bed. I closed my eyes and ran my hand over my face before opening my eyes up again as the teal ceiling came into view.

Knowing I wouldn't be able to fall back asleep because I never can once I'm up and I have school, I pulled the covers off of me and got out of bed.

I opened the bedroom door and stumbled out, still not fully awake. I continued to stumble until I got to Bridget's room. Yanking the door open, I walked in and grabbed a nice green fluffy pillow that was placed on her bay window. I then walked over to where her sleeping body was peacefully resting on the pink and white polka-dot bed covers, a comforter in the same design thrown over her.

I slammed the pillow down hard on her head. She jumped up, startled as she furiously tried to get the sleeping mask she wore to bed off her face. When she finally got it off, she glanced up and me and glared.

"I'm going to kill you one of these days," Bridget said.

I smirked. "Yeah, well until that day comes, get your ass outta bed and get ready for school unless you want me to slap you again."

She scowled at me but nonetheless got out of bed. She walked over to her bathroom and shut the door before yelling to me that she was going to take a shower.

"Okay but don't take too long!" I yelled back.

Deciding it was a good idea, I walked back to the guest room which was pretty much my room and hopped in the shower. Every room in the house had its own bathroom which was very convenient. Even the master bedroom had two- one for Bridget's mom and one for her dad. I wish my house was like that. Men just don't understand that women need time to get ready.

If you're wondering, this weekend I ended up staying at Bridget's house. Just because I said I wasn't rich, doesn't mean she wasn't. After the party, we had crashed. The next morning, everyone made an effort to help clean up the house. The Harrisons' had maids but one thing that made them different from most rich people was that they were generous and didn't take being rich for granted. There were very kind and helped the maids out. The maids just made it a faster process.

Bridget and I don't share a room when I sleep over because one, we both like a bed all to ourselves. Second, Bridget tends to snore. Very badly. And third, if you had the chance to have a second bedroom, a huge one that came with a walk-in-closet, bay window, king size bed, its own bathroom, and much more, that you wouldn't take it.

After I got out, I wrapped the soft, fluffy, white towel around my body and walked out of the bedroom. I headed over to the closet, sliding the door open. I stepped in and cocked my head to the side, raking my eyes over all the articles of clothes I had at Bridget's house.

I grabbed a pair of hot pink shorts with a thin orange belt around it and a white lace shirt. It was one of those shirts where the sleeves come down to about your elbow and the back is see through but the front has a piece of fabric attached to the lace so you can't see through the front. Long story short, it looked cute, and I was wearing it.

I then grabbed a pair of white sandals and placed them on before spritzing my body with Britney Spears' Curious perfume. I placed a pair of white feather earrings on and then applied some light pink lip gloss, mascara, eyeliner, and a bit of eye shadow.

I walked back into the bathroom and threw the towel in the hamper before sauntering out of the room. Bridget was in her room applying make up when I walked in.