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∙ .'⋄*·.·˚ ,'˚ ∘,.·∘'∘,* ˚ ∘⋄'*·. CHAPTER ONE: GIRLS WILL BE GIRLS .'·*⋄ ˚*,∘'∘·.,∘ ˚', ˚∙.·*⋄'. ∙
SMOKE FILLED THE bathroom and Carrie waved it out of her face, trying to get a glimpse of her hair through the clouded mirror. She teased the brunette locks with the comb in her hands, letting the cigarette hang in her mouth as her fingers moved to prop strands up. She's already spent a half-hour perfecting it, and had the time to do her eyeliner while the hairspray had set. Now, Carrie stood back to admire the effort she'd put in, from her natural lips to the smudged eyeshadow and khaki jacket which hung off her form. Good enough, she supposed.
She squashed her cigarette in the bathroom ashtray, grabbed her backpack and left her room in her thick combat boots. Carrie didn't even bother saying goodbye to her father—who sat on the couch watching television and would no doubt not even respond—slamming the door as she left her house. Her keys started the run-down car she'd had to save up for herself, taking a few tries to get the old thing running. While she attempted to get it working, Carrie had the beautiful view of Steve Harrington's house next to hers, and she just hoped the asshole wasn't home to view her struggles.
When she finally made it to school, Carrie swung her car door shut and walked through the high school carpark, just trying to make it to her first class of the day. The golden glint of a necklace speckled between where Carrie's fingers were held at her throat, a half-heart pendant cradled against them. She'd worn it since she was seven years old, and now, she refused to take it off. It almost ruined her whole aesthetic, and would have if she didn't carefully tuck it beneath the collar of her shirt whenever her fingers weren't on it. The rest of Hawkins High watched her with reproachful gazes.
Carrie Annsley was mean. Carrie Annsley was scary. Carrie Annsley was the type of girl to hit you with her car if you pissed her off, or carve insults into the tires of your car if you wronged her. She was the type of girl who smoked cigarettes way too much and who probably blew the smoke from her lips into the face of whoever told her to stop. Carrie Annsley was not a nice girl, the townspeople said, and Carrie herself had begun to believe it.
Carol's little gang of pricks leant up against Steve Harrington's BMW, which was parked annoyingly close to the free spot she'd taken. Tommy H looked over as Carrie approached with her teased out hair and lined eyes, and tapped his girlfriend on the arm to alert her. Harrington glanced over too, which was irritating in itself because he annoyed Carrie with a passion and she was already stuck living across the street from him.
