F Stands For Forever #JustWriteItChallenge

2. Honey

***Honey***

Why am I doing this? I think as I pulled a worn, black Bob Dylan shirt over my head. I stared at the chair a few feet across from my bed. In the seat of it was my graduation robe. I have to return it sometime, but not today. I don’t want to see like know it all looks from the teachers when I give it back.

It was already eleven o’ clock. The sun was long down and the stars were shining like diamonds in the sky. Everything was so beautiful at night, but I wouldn’t know. I’m so lame I’m usually in bed by ten. But tonight things were different. And not just because Niki threatened to karate-kick down my door.

So what if I made a fool of myself in front of the entire school. So what if half of the graduated seniors will be a the club Ted’s band is playing at tonight. I deserve a night out on the town, don’t I? I mean, who cares if I messed up a stupid speech. Most people probably wouldn’t have listened to it anyway, so who cares about it? I screwed up. People have tried, but there’s no way to change the past. It’s done and over with. I need to just forget about it.

“Knock knock!” I hear from upstairs. Niki was pounding at my front door again. What’s new? “Come on, Honey let me in! Don’t make me--”

I was up the basement stairs and opening up the door before she could say it. “Don’t make you do what?” I asked. She gave me a warning look that said she was already pissed off. I didn’t care. I’m used to her temper.

“Come in there and kick your ass out of bed, that’s what!” She pushed me aside and let herself in, plopping down on my thrift store bought couch. My house really isn’t that big. Just a one bedroom, living area, kitchen and bathroom, but the basement also happens to be refurbished, so I use it as a makeshift master bedroom. I use the real one as my painting studio.

“I can’t believe you actually listened to me. For once.” She mumbled the last part, but I caught it and rolled my eyes at her. “But what the hell are you wearing, Honey? Jeans and a t-shirt? Really?”

“Uh, yeah. Is this not okay?”

She gave me a look that said I didn’t know anything and sighed loudly. The sound resembled a hippopotamus cry.

“Of course it’s not okay! Jeez, is there any hope for you at all?”

“Oh, come on. We’re only going to a club,” I say. Now I’m the exasperated one. “It’s not a fashion show.”

“That shows how much you know. The whole world is a fashion show. Yeah, you need brains, but beauty--along with money--are the qualities that attract the most, well…everything. Come on Honey, you’re freaking gorgeous, why don’t you ever show it off?”

I rub my right arm awkwardly. What was she talking about? Me and beautiful are never used in the same sentence unless the words are referring to my art.

“Okay, what drugs are you on and please tell me you have some more.”

Niki stood up from the couch and walked over to me, putting her hands on my shoulders. Both of us are freakishly tall so she didn‘t have to struggle to do it. “I’m serious! I’ve never seen you once wear make up or even a dress. You have such amazing features--yellow eyes, curly black hair, perfect skin--and not to even mention a rocking body under those baggy clothes you wear. Why don’t you show the world how great you can be? I mean, you’re even shy about your achievements. All of the art you’ve ever done, it just sits up in that room all day and no one ever gets to see it.”

“Yea, but--”

“And you’re writing is amazing, but you never let anyone read it but me. You don’t even let the person who most of your writing is for, Honey. You need to open up a little.”