09: Nothing Can Go Wrong
In the thirteen times that I have ever conversed with Devin, she never told me anything personal about herself. It was expected that a popular girl like herself would love having the opportunity to talk about herself to whoever was interested enough in listening, but that had never been the case. One of the longest conversations we’d ever had was at Charlie’s house, the morning of the dance-a-thon, and our parents were all gathered in Marie’s corner of the house, getting all dressed up ready to be nothing more than chaperones and take the annoying role of pestering people for money – something which I know my Mom despised having to do, no matter how long she’d have to do it before. Charlie forbidden us from even poking our heads around his door, keeping the mess of clothes as he sought through his suits for his best one and saving us from listening to P!ATD and not having to witness Benny try and hide his pale chest from our vision.
The morning of the dance-a-thon, I carried my blue dress out to my Dad’s SUV, along with my make-up trunk which also meant I was doing everyone’s makeup. Mom had been looking forward to it for a while now, the dance that was, and the idea of me having a date who I was in an actual relationship with, Dad, however, wasn’t so impressed, regardless of it being Charlie and him near enough worshipping the ground that he walked on. We pulled up outside of Marie’s, and entered the house in a flurry of satin and silk and velvet and an array of fabrics I couldn’t name and colours I couldn’t recognise. I soon found myself in a spare room along with Devin, who was laughing down at her phone with a smile which held all of the greatest secrets but could break you down and get you to your knees.
Her curls bounced when she looked up at me, and her grey eyes blinked twice before her lips split into a smile, white teeth making a brief appearance in the show that was Devin. Instead of simply ignoring me like I thought she would have done, she was quick to engage me in a conversation about the dress stored in her black dress bag, zipped right to the top and hidden away in the wardrobe, away from wondering eyes. “I chose red.” She said, toying with one of her curls. Her lips pursed, and her eyes narrowed. I’d sat on the end of the bed, finding myself so enamoured by her I couldn’t do much else than blink and hold onto every word that ever left her lips and snatch up every smile directed my way like they were worth something physical and more valuable than the simple wording of ever telling anyone that Devin had saved you one of her own special smiles. Not the kind she gave to the freshman, it wasn’t the one she sent to Adrienne when they said something to Benny which got him into a flustered mess, stumbling over words and flushing bright red. It was the kind of smile which wrapped its arms around you and pushed you onto the edge of that something more but could never reach.
I asked why she wanted a red dress; a lot of the girls had played it safe with white, cream, and black and blue. Devin smirked slightly, shrugging one bare shoulder from where her white oversized tee-shirt had fallen, revealing mocha coloured skin with freckles speckled all across the surface of the skin that pulled all over her body. “I think red is really sexy. It’s my favourite colour, actually, Kasia, did you know that? Red symbolises confidence and lust and sex and even if it may seem a little trashy, I love the way it makes me feel. There’s nothing that can go wrong when I’m wearing a red dress.”
“Red. It suits you.” I told her, smoothing my hand over the white bed sheets and ridding of the wrinkles temporarily until Devin moved her legs over the end of the bed and stood up, toes curling into the carpet before walking towards the door.
She paused to look at me over her shoulder, “Oh, honey, I don’t even know what suits me.” I remained sitting on that bed, watching where she’d just stood for minutes until I moved myself and sought out Charlie. It was the first personal thing Devin had ever told me about herself, regardless of her presence at the fourth of July parties, or the Thanksgiving dinners or the fact that we shared the same space the morning of the dance-a-thon, I knew nothing about her. The scariest thing about the whole ordeal was that I’d let this person into my personal space on numerous occasions, knowing nothing more than they’re name, parents and age, the basic information she gave of herself. I never really found out about Devin’s attachment to the colour red either.
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Teen FictionCASE: CLOSED "She's dead now, and there's nothing we can do about it." --- Kasia Andrews expects very little on a Monday morning. Until, whilst locked in the PE store cupboard, accompanied with basket balls, netballs, soccer balls and the guy that...