“I’m not wearing any of that!” I shouted at a stubborn Lana.
The girl grunted, moping back to her 60 sq. ft. closet to pick another outfit to wear to the party. I sighed, fumbling with my thumbs as I rested ontop of her California king bed. Lucky for her, Lana already had her plain, blue crop top; black pencil skirt; and black heels ready to go. As for me, I’m having quite a trouble of finding one I’d be comfortbale in. Everything hanging in Lana’s closet is either a size 3 jeans, short shorts, pencil skirts, crop tops, or mini skirts. Although Lana and I are as opposite as Jack Frost and Satan, but we love each other like family.
“What about this, Miss Picky?” she asked, holding a gorgeous black, sleevless dress in her hands. I gawked at the piece in hanging from her fingertips.
“Yes,” I whispered. “When did you wear this?”
She smiled wide, handing me the astonishing dress herself. “I never did. It just sat in my closet waiting for someone to use it. And, you know me. I like my studs,” she ended with a grin. “And because I have shoes that goes with almost every dress, I have the perfect ones that’ll go amazing with that dress.”
Lana went back to her house of a closet and revealed a pair of what looked like 3 in. heels with gold bands covering the front. “Now, hurry and put on your outfit. Don’t want to keep poor Holton waiting, now do we?” she nagged with a sly grin.
I giggled taking off my white robe, sliding into the dresss and slipping into the heels. Thankfully, Lana managed to do my hair and makeup earlier.
“Claire! Hurry! I want to get there before all the good drinks are all go—
She stopped midsentenced as she took a look at me with wide eyes filled with surprise. “Claire…” she whispered. “You look absolutely…beautiful.”
I sighed, smiling; but I wouldn’t say I looked as beautiful as Lana. Since 9th grade, Lana always had boys wrapped around her finger; and why wouldn’t she? Her plump, pink lips were something to feel while her lokng, curly, thick, red hair caused other girls to envy. The round, almond, green eyes she owned looked right through your soul; you’d shiver anytime she’d take one glance at you. In addition to her size D boobs— almost popping out her top—and confidence. What guy wouldn’t want to be with a girl like her? Though as for my dark, brown, spiraled hair; perfect makeup; and deep curves revealing throughout the dress, I feel mighty beautiful.
“Thank you,” I managed to say. “We should get going.”
After an estimated time of 12 minutes, we arrived at the party; hence he lived only minutes down the road from Lana. We entered the beautiful, crowded, two story house with the bass almost knocking us off our feet. People shoved and pushed Lana and me separate from each other, but in the long run we managed to keep close. Lucky for us, I know Holton’s house design like the back of me hand. We both paced towards the den, where only a few teens talked and danced. That was when I saw an elegant, glass blender filled with strawberry margarita resting ontop of a smooth, black, granite table, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Lana’s eyes light up.
“Okay, just one glass!” she whined shaking my shoulders.
I shook my head, sighing. “Didn’t you promise not to drink not an ounce of alcohol?”
YOU ARE READING
Farecrest Academy
FantasiClaire Walton is a normal, teenager; she goes to highschool, makes straight A's, and comes home to her mom, little sister, and baby brother, Ethan. But that was when Claire painfully gained a strange, ancient symbol on the palm of her hand, and now...
