Counting Stars

1: Say Cheese

Never again. Never again will I even think, for one measly second, about helping that thing, that creature I call my brother. HOW DARE HE! I mean sure, embarrass me in front of the family, that's basically a given in the non-existent, unspoken manual on how to treat your younger sister, but this! He had gone too far, and for once I was going to have to do something I'd never done before – get revenge.

To the left of me I see my dressing table, a white, solid wood table, immersed with all sorts of beauty products that I try to lather on my face daily, in the simply unattainable hopes of looking somewhat decent. Above the table, hangs my mirror, silver in colour and decorated with light bulbs around the edge, the kind of mirror you'd find on Pinterest or something of the sort. The entire dressing area is courtesy of my mother, who must think that the only way of expressing her love, or 'love', for me is to shower me with expensive, luxurious gifts. Finally, above the mirror is a section of myself, a section of my life and those within it. Strung along the lilac coloured feature wall is a pretty row of coloured fabrics, all hanging together on a thin piece of baby pink ribbon. On every piece of bunting, there is a picture of someone, from my best friends Leigh and Jordan to a very old picture of myself and Leo; a picture I can't bring myself to take down.

However, today, strung across the multiple rows of bunting are something entirely different. Red and lacy, black with polka dots, white and granny-like. Strapless, backless, front clasping, you name it, you can see it. Yes, that's right. Weaved in between the bunting hangs every single bra I own. And the best thing? The window that sits right opposite my vanity area bares my unmentionables blatantly, to the wide and hungry eyes of the school magazine's perverted photographer. Great. Just great. Smile wide for the camera Lex...

Twirling the barely palatable spaghetti bolognaise that mum had made for dinner around my fork, I let my mind wander and picture the vivid and, I must admit, extremely bloody, images of how much more appealing Mason would look with an axe hanging through his head. The hatred for my brother at this moment in time is more than real. It had taken me an entire 5 minutes to rescue my undergarments, but it would take me a minimum of at least 10 gazillion years to rescue my reputation if this ever got out.

The second I realised Chase had taken a picture, I ran, no stomped like a madman on crack to his house, and threatened to castrate him and do more than grievous bodily harm if he ever even thought about leaking that picture. The poor boy looked paralysed with fear, although I'm not sure if that was because of my threat or the fact that I was so mad I was practically spitting at him. Either way, I'm positive that the picture won't be seen by hundreds of eyes any time soon. I hope.

Sadly, the drama that I have playing out in my head is interrupted by the throaty laugh of my father, and the heinous cackling of my mother. It baffles me, how can people who are so obviously toxic for each other, act so fake around each other? It's no surprise that my mother's a cheating, money sucking gold digger with a new found interest in sugar daddies. And it's no surprise that my father's more interested in expanding his business than he is in his own kids. It hasn't always been this way. I remember the days at the park, the trips to the ice cream van and to the zoo. I remember my father tying my shoelaces, my mother braiding my hair and finishing it with her favourite barrettes. I remember playing with mum's lipstick, and dad scolding me for being too young to ruin my beauty. I remember it all but they do not.

As soon as Mason parks outside the school, I give him one last steely glare before I hop out of his beat up Mustang. It's one of the things that annoys dad most; we most definitely have the money for Mason to have a newer, nicer car, but the stubborn, petulant child in him loves irritating dad, and nothing riled him up more than tarnishing his own and his family's reputation, even though it really was is just a car. My parents are so materialistic.

Surveying my surroundings as if I was looking out for any possible killers, I cross the road and tiptoe towards school, making sure to keep my head down at all times. My light blonde hair works perfectly as a disguise, covering every inch of the sides of my face. Yes, I know I coerced Chase into promising that he wouldn't post that picture, but I have to be sure, the damn rat could've done anything. I get to my locker without being seen and collect my books for the day. Feeling rather triumphant I walk in the direction of my form room.

"Lexie!"

Oh, for goodness sake. Was it really that obvious it's me? I even dressed in the simplest outfit possible – black jeans, a back top and a black hoodie... okay fine, it might be slightly OTT but it's doing a good job at keeping me hidden. Or not.

"Lexie, wait up! Slow down, dude!"

Jordan finally catches up with me after I petulantly slow my speed. In all honesty, I don't know why I'm so paranoid. Chase wouldn't have shown everyone the picture, I've got to start having a little more faith in people.

"Oh, sorry Jords, I was just, um... yeah, I just had to get to form really quick, but that's fine now. Wait... are you okay? You look slightly red."

Jordan West is one of my best friends. I haven't known her all my life; she only moved here two years ago and we instantly became friends after she dumped a whole cup of OJ on a beastlike, bulky guy who was terrorising a scrawny young boy, who seemed to have only just joined our school. Jordan hates bullies, looking at her with her black leather jacket and her 'Guns and Roses' top might be slightly intimidating, but she's a softie at heart. Though her wardrobe might only contain various shades of black, her heart was made of gold. She once told me that she used to be the bully at her old school and that after a severe incident that nearly cost someone's life, she backed away.

"Oh my God Lexie, why in Satan's name are you dressed like that?" she all but screeches.

"Hey, I don't think my outfit is that bad okay? And shouldn't you like it? It is the colour of your rainbow after all!" I claw back at her. "Anyways, I'll tell you the reason I'm not dressed to your approval when we meet Leigh. I really can't tell the same story twice without cocooning myself from the outside world for the absolute loss of what little dignity I had left." Emphasis on the little.

"Right... okay...right..." Jord elongates every single word, showing how she really does think I have well and truly lost the plot.

"... and that, kids, is how to bisect a heart. Don't forget to write up your notes for the practical for Thursday. I'll be checking!"

As Mr Gates finally speaks his final words, and here's praying he doesn't speak anymore, the bell rings, dismissing us from GWHS. It really is a miracle! I really had made it through an entire day at school without being ridiculed by my classmates as they saw the picture of my undergarments hanging from the wall, and me looking directly at the camera, face laced with absolute mortification. Maybe Chase had kept his word after all.

Whilst texting Mason to see if he was here to pick me up, I hear my name being called. I don't really have many friends, and the voice most certainly was not that of Jordan's or Leigh's. The voice seems to become louder, and clearer, almost as though the person was standing close to me. And entwined within the voice is something that I had heard enough of, a taunting, insulting tone. The tone of voice that could only belong to one person, someone who I both simultaneously loathed and loved.

"Leo, what do you want?"

"Oh, sweetheart, I just wanted to show you something that I think may belong to you..." he says with that beautiful smirk spread across his lips, the smirk I wish I didn't love.

Waiting patiently, I tap my foot against the tarmac, when the next thing I see is a picture, printed with red, and black, and white, and blue, and every single colour under the rainbow.

Leo has the picture.

Curse you, Chase.