Flipping through my magazing I stare at the perfection of the beautiful, carefree women on the pages. Strong, handsome men hold them close, ready to wish them away to another world.
My brother saunters through the door, and greets mom before heading to his room to play with his scrap metal.
Turning the page, I attempt the facial expression the model gives, puckered lips, squinted eyes, a look of mischievous flirtation.
"Hey mom! Can I get this?" I ask, waiting for her to come over.
"Mom!" I repeat, waiting. Shes so slow.
"What, dearie?" She wipes her hands on a different towel, and leans over the back of the couch. "How much?" She whispers.
"Only fourtyfive ninty-six." I purr.
"Dear, we cant spend a small fourtune on your makeup collection. Don't you already have concealer? I really do like to see your real face sometimes."
"Yeah, well, my real face wont keep me popular. Unlike you, who wasnt." I mumble that last part.
"Honey, I want you to have a good life..."
"Please?" I beg.
"Fine. But I can't go on spoiling you like this." She sighs. I smile.
"Thanks Mom. You're the best." I smile again. "Wait, I need your credit card for tomorrow night. I'm going to the mall with my friends." I ask sweetly.
"Fine." She sighed again, heading over to her purse.
So what if I'm spoiled? As long as it keeps me at the top of the school food chain, I'm good. I inwardly laugh at the joke I had played on Sharah this morning. The girl couldnt take a joke. But the way she ran! Ha! And how she cried. Whatever. She shouldnt be so sensitive.
YOU ARE READING
Storm Star
Fiksi IlmiahNine teens, chosen for some mysterious purpose, the survivors of "the wipe-out" as that day was called. A post-apocalyptic world is all that left. And the aliens who came.
