Chapter 10~ All Dressed Up

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Picture to the side is of Reese's dress for Tanner's party.

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Chapter 10~ All Dressed Up

Jesus Christ, Chelsea really knows how to annoy the shit out of people. I honestly don't know how guys put up with her during their little "sessions."

How I was ever even friends with that she-devil, I don't even know.

"Thanks Reese" Staci spoke out, giving me a small smile from the backseat.

"No problem Stac, in just glad that we could finally stick up to that bitch."

We all laughed and continued to listen to the radio.

"You know what's shocking? We actually found our dresses days before the party." Lyra exclaimed, which made both of us agree.

Since I always feel like I'm gaining 10 pounds a day from junk food and my dinner, for some odd reason, I always try on the dress I purchased every night before I go to bed to make sure I don't look fatter than I already am.

We finally reached my house, and I got out of the car, waved goodbye to my friends, and entered my 'welcoming' home.

"I'm home!" I shouted. Nobody answered, so I guess nobody was home. I dropped my book bag on the kitchen tile, grabbing some Iced Tea and Nutella from the fridge. And yes, I like my Nutella to be chilled.

It's completely normal. It just has to be. I'm not the only one that does that.

I grabbed a spoon out of our utensil drawer, and started digging into my delicious food. After like, ten spoonfuls, I shoved the Nutella back into the refrigerator, grabbed my laptop from my backpack, and began on that essay that was due tomorrow.

In order to share our essays with teachers through the internet, I had to access my Google Drive account, which annoys me to no end. Typing in this long ass username along with a combination of 20 numbers and letters isn't what I would like to call "exciting."

For stupid history class, we had this month long lesson on the fucking French Revolution, and now I, along with every other Junior in our school, had to type a 15 page essay on the several things we learned, and how it's affected our fucking lives.

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After a whole painful hour of typing away vigorously on my keyboard, I managed to complete 6 of the 15 pages. I'm not sure if I should feel accomplished or stupid.

I decided that I should type the rest up tomorrow, so I shoved my laptop furiously into my bag, and walk upstairs to my room.

I seriously hated Mr. Brooks, our history teacher. And if you're wondering, no, he's not Chelsea's dad.

Well, you probably weren't wondering.

But if he ended up being in any way related to that little thot, I might've just had to skip class every fucking day.

When Chelsea and I used to be the greatest of friends throughout elementary school and up to 9th grade, we used to hang out every weekend. And I'm not even kidding when I say every weekend.

Whenever she came over to my house (before my dad was sent to jail and before my mom became the biggest bitch), or whenever I went to her house, half of the time it ended up becoming a huge sleepover.

We used to do everything together.

But when I turned 11, we stopped hanging out as much, but we still managed to stay best friends. Chelsea even knows about all of my family problems, because I told her about them in middle school. She was literally the only person I could actually talk to that would try and comfort me, and me not getting pissed at her.

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