diary of a living dead girl

we sing we dance we hide

Lydia Stood by her locker, fixing her make up before she had to go to practice. She applied the usual black lipstick then covered the bags under her eyes with black eye shadow. Once she was done she closed her locker. Meeting the uneasy gaze of her friends. They stood a bit away from her. She didn't notice them till her locker was closed. She smiled at them, wide and friendly. both of them seemed confused by the sight. 

"Hey guys didn't see you there...what" she asked, her smile shrinking. "Uh nothing" Bertha lied. Turning to share a glance with prudence. Lydia wasn't buying that. But her friends began to walk and she fallowed. The three heading to the same location. 

"I-It's not nothing" Prudence spoke up from beside the tallest woman. She looked over at Lydia through her thick glasses. Bertha made a face of unease as she rubbed her arm. "Well not to make you self conscious or anything. It's just. I don't think we've ever seen you smile. I mean sure smirk and that wild menacing grin you have sometimes. But I mean like actually smile. You-You looked really happy this morning" Bertha spoke as the little red head nodded along. Lydia stood up taller. Holding her back to her back as she took in the words of her closest friends.

"You look happy. Not insulting just observing. You seem more energetic, you smile and not your lopsided amused smile or that scary one you had at prom" Prudence corrected. The goth laughed "ah prom night what a magical night" she giggled darkly. 

"For who the gym was set on fire, they found cows blood all over the stage" Prudence began to speak again. "Claire had to go to therapy because of that night" she continued sounding baffled. Lydia just giggled again "Yeah the best. hahaha. But I guess I've been sleeping again. I'm not having so many nightmares so it's been almost restful" she told them. "That's good, you were looking like a ghost there" Bertha told, in her cracking voice. 

"Restful sleep does improve ones mood, and mental state" the red head explained. "Thanks Prue" the goth said. The three went into the auditorium through the back door, heading up the stage steps where the crew was already at work. Small groups reciting scenes, doing homework, a couple even sleeping in the back. On stage Claire was yelling at a man dressed in a leather jacket. His brown hair slicked back while the sides of his head were shaved. He glared at the girl with his brown eyes. Tommy stood on the side, wearing the full Audrey costume. There was a head piece to it. The large mouth, a gap so the wearer could see through a hole in the purple fabric. He fiddled with it like it itched to wear. 

Lydia walked over to the costume rack. She went to grab her costume but stopped. It was to big and she moved around a lot better in her uniform. So instead she took off her jacket. Setting it down with her Michael Myers bag. She turned around and almost jumped when she was met with a tanned face. The blond blinked slowly due to her heavy pink eyeshadow. 

"So like did you tell your daddy about the play yet" she asked, smiling like she already knew the answer. Both prudence and Bertha stepped towards Lydia, standing on either side of her. "No" she simply said. "Ha embarrassed" Claire accused smugly. Something that would normally enrage Lydia. But this time the goth felt more at ease. Less like she was gonna jump the woman and bite out her throat to shut her up. 

"No" Lydia shook her head slightly. "I didn't tell him because he's not apart of my life. He doesn't care and frankly I don't care about impressing him. I'm not some little girl chasing after her fathers affections. Doing anything to make him proud. I don't need or want his validation. Unlike some girls who still haven't grown up" she tapped Claire's nose then began walking onto the stage. 

The blond blinked at the two girls left in front of her. She raised her lip in anger. Turning around to fallow the goth. Lydia didn't make it very far onto the stage. Tommy walked over to her and she rolled her eyes at the sight of the man. Crossing her arms when he stood beside her.