Delinquent For Christmas

Chapter Three

        "Hope? Home a little early, aren't you?"

        I hear mom call, but could only give a small "yeah," with Molly tugging me so fast to the stairs. Mom kept mumbling something, though.  "Honey, wait---!" She ran after us, but Molly already had me tugged into the bedroom. Zachary was basically in the same place I had left him, although Molly, thankfully, seemed to be oblivious to his attendance in the room. "Hope! What is going on?---Oh, hello, Molly, dear!"

        "Hello, Mrs. Hudson. Problem?"

        Molly had a charm to her, that, with the right smile, could turn any adult soft. "No, dear. Just, you trailed snow up the stairs..." She trailed off, laughing, the thing that was usually a big deal turning into nothing, because of Molly's presence. "So, what's your hurry?"

        Molly whipped around, back on her path to my closet. "We have to find something for Hope to wear on her date tonight." She spoke so strongly, it almost felt like a crime to correct her.

       "Not a date---"

        "Really?" Mom beamed, "Honey, that's so great! Where?! Who with?!"

        "Just a party. With Max, for his football buddies." I shrugged, like it was no big deal. Because it wasn't.

        "Well, I think that's wonderful! He's always been so good for you."

        "Yeah, he's a good friend."

        I think I'm starting to realize that. Because I like having him around, but it hurts when he leaves.

        And he will leave.

        Then it'll be just me and Molly, once again.

        Well, not exactly...

        "Hey, what about Zachary? I can't go anywhere! This is his first night here, I can't just leave him to get settled in all alone...---"

        "Ah, he'll be fine. No excuses! Remember, you have work tomorrow. Don't be out too late. Bye now! Oh, and good luck, Molly, Sweetie!"

        Mom leaves the room, me standing shocked, Molly's head stuck in the back of my closet, and the stupid boy in the room smirking at me. Then Molly starts squealing. It's times like these that I question why we're even friends. Our friendship started with an immediate connection, where you know the person you're with was meant to be in your life. But we're barely alike, more different than similar.

       "I found it! The perfect outfit!"

        I roll my eyes. Great, what could she have possibly of found?

      She backs out of the closet holding a dress I have't even worn yet, tags all still intact. I walk over to her, inspecting it. "I forgot about this," I laugh.

       I remember buying it. It was my favorite. Black dress. Long lacey sleeves. Short, though. As if sensing my thoughts, she gives me a playful shove. "It's not too short. And you'll look hot. Go!" She shoves me toward the bathroom, "Go put it on!"

        I stare at my reflection in the mirror for a bit, before exiting the room. The dress did look good on me. I loved it, even. But why was I feeling so...off?

        I shake it away and walk out of the room. Molly was sifting through my chest, for jewelry, I suppose. She looks up and slides straight to her feet. "Oh. My. Hotness! You are so wearing that tonight!" She bends over and throws something at me, "And these shoes." They were black high heeled boots with spikes on them.