Paroxysm ⇢ [Delirium, Book One]

I

HAZEL

13th August, 2018, 8:24PM.

"There's no freakin' way you're going to get me to wear that."

Laurel is holding up a bright pink blouse in one hand and a black leather skirt in the other with a hopeful grin on her face. I raise my eyebrows in warning at her but she just carries on grinning at me.

"I'm not kidding Laur, you're gonna have to fight me," I say, and instantly I wish I had my phone in my hand to take a picture of the face she pulls. She's staring at me like I've just set her favourite teddy bear on fire right in front of her face. Sighing, she flips her long red hair over her shoulder and returns to her wardrobe.

"You're a pretty girl, Hazel. I don't know why you don't dress to accentuate yourself, or, you know, to try not stick out entirely like a sore thumb," she says, flicking through hangers of various shades of pink and purple material that make up her clothing collection.

"I'm just asking for people to notice the weird red headed girl who is often stood next to things when they explode because of the way I dress, right?" I dramatically flop back onto the bed, pretending to be sent backwards by shockwaves of an explosion. Alycia looks up from her magazine, a single eyebrow raised at my overreaction.

"I didn't say that, but... you did," Laurel says with a smug smile as she turns back around holding a dark purple mini dress. I sit back up to assess her choice. "Look," She says, "you make it hard enough to blend in as it is, maybe dressing like the rest of us might make it a little easier."

"Colour's nice, I'll give you that... but it's still a dress. And anyway, people would notice me more if I turned up suddenly wearing your clothes." It's a lame way of trying to appease her when we both know that there's not a chance in hell I'll change my outfit. Even though I throw her a smile as a peace offering, my perfect, petite and pristine cousin lets out a growl that sounds like it came from a fully-grown wolf.

"Laur, Haze looks fine as she is. Can we just go?" Alycia asks, setting the magazine down on the nightstand. Laurel opens her mouth to protest and points at my outfit. Black skinny jeans, big clunky black boots and a black top to match. I smirk as Alycia simply raises an eyebrow at Laurel who closes her mouth in defeat.

"The boys are going to wonder what the hell has taken us so long," I mutter, standing up to grab my phone from the chest of drawers.

"Well now you can tell Spencer to quit attacking your phone, we're on our way," Laurel huffs, slinging her handbag over her shoulder. I look at my phone to find seven missed calls and three texts.

HAVE YOU BEEN EATEN ALIVE ???

SERIOUSLY HAZEL... where are you guys?

Has Laurel made you wear some kind of makeup other than mascara???? Have you run away in horror?

I have to hand it to him; I'm a little impressed that he even knows what mascara is. I make a mental note to ask him if he's been watching makeup tutorials online or googling something like: 'what is that black stuff my best friend puts on her eyelashes in my car every morning before school?' I can't say that I'd be surprised if I found something to that effect in his search history.

"You coming?" Alycia asks, standing in the doorway. I look up from my phone to find that Laurel must have strutted off down the stairs without us, typically.

"Right behind you," I say, texting a quick response to Spencer and sliding my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. As I head down the stairs I run my hand down the banister, taking in the pictures lined up the stairway. Laurel and I stood next to each other; two redheaded girls, grinning with missing teeth aged seven. Laurel in every shade of pink imaginable, me in blues and purples. Everything we did together as kids is on this stairway, like our first day at school, family holidays, riding horses and bouncing on trampolines. As we grow older in each picture the intensity of our smiles fade but where Laurel's smile becomes almost an all-knowing smirk, mine starts to look half-hearted and forced. It wasn't like I was ever quite like Laurel anyway, I've always been lacking in girlish charm, much preferring to build a fort in the woods than a trip to the mall.