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Scarlette
Walking into the empty house, the darkness almost seemed comforting.
Moving through the large foyer, my footsteps echoed all around me. I turned on lights in the hallway and then the kitchen. The pristine, all white kitchen with state-of-the-art appliances shined as I walked into the room. There was a note from the chef, with instructions on how to heat up the dinner he had prepared and placed in the refrigerator.
After reheating my chicken alfredo, I sat alone at the kitchen island. The conversation—if you could even call it that—with Ason still weighed heavily on me. He didn’t even care enough to stick around for his required tutoring session. After he had left, I had stayed in the room and read through his files. His grades were garbage and he had been assigned tutoring so that he could gain his credits to graduate. Ason didn’t come off to me as the type of guy who cared about anything like grades, but still, I was sure that he would want to graduate. I was sure that Ason hated me and only because I wasn’t an Elite.
Taking a bite of my alfredo, I savored the creamy sauce and the hint of garlic. Sighing, I grabbed my phone and began scrolling through my social media accounts. To be honest, I wasn’t sure why I had let Macy talk me into even having social media. I rarely posted anything and only a handful of people liked or followed my posts anyway. I was a nobody at this school.
My phone chimed and I jumped at the sudden sound. A text from Macy lit up the screen.
Macy: Party tomorrow night!
Ugh, I hated that she wasn’t letting this up. First, showing me outfits, she was picking out the other night and now confirming it.
Me: I may be sick.
Macy: No chance. I will pick you up at 8 tomorrow!
I dropped my phone down onto the white, marble counter and scarfed down the rest of my dinner. I had no idea what time my parents would be home and I have an English essay to write. I placed my empty plate in the dishwasher and then went upstairs to my bedroom. Walking into my room, I padded across the soft carpet on my way to my ensuite bathroom. My room was painted a soft lavender and my bedspread, curtains, and wall décor all had a wildflower to feel. I detested the colors. I wish more than anything that I could just paint my walls red or blue or some wild color, but my mom would never allow such a thing in our house. She had hired a designer and every few years, she redecorated to match whatever aesthetically pleasing theme was in style.
After showering in my tile shower, I fell into bed with my laptop and began working on my essay. Once my eyes grew too heavy to focus any longer, I feel asleep and didn’t wake again until morning.
Walking into school, I could feel the buzz around the halls.
Everyone was talking about the party tonight and it sounded like most of the school planned on being there. I had never paid much attention to talk about who was throwing a party and where, but since Macy was basically forcing me to go against my will, I took the liberty of listening as I went to my locker and began gathering my books for the day.
“Hey, which outfit did you like?” Macy asked, leaning against my locker.
I pulled out my laptop and Calculus textbook and turned to face her. “What?”
“I sent you like three pictures of outfits I had decided would look good,” she said, sighing as I stared back at her.
“Oh, sorry. I fell asleep last night. I’ll look at them later,” I explained.
Macy pushed herself off my locker. “Can you at least pretend to be excited? I mean, do you know how many people would kill to go to parties like the one we are going to?”
I knew she had a point, but I still didn’t really care. Parties just weren’t my thing.
“I promise, I will make an effort to smile,” I said sarcastically.
Macy laughed and looped her arm through mine. We walked into class and I spent the rest of the day trying not to think about the party.
Macy placed a layer of pink lip gloss over my lips as she smiled down at me.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror and hardly recognized myself. My long, brown hair was swept up in a high ponytail and my hazel eyes were lined with thick, black eyeliner. Flecks of gold reflected over my eyelids and my plunging neckline had me constantly pulling my shirt up, only to reveal more of my stomach than I liked.
“Will you stop fidgeting,” Macy scolded, as she placed the lid back over the lip gloss.
“This shirt is a little too much,” I stated, still staring at myself.
“Whatever. You look hot,” Macy smirked.
I stood from the chair in front of my vanity and tried to pull down the jean skirt that barely covered my ass. Macy had lost her mind!
“I can’t leave my house looking like this. I look like a hooker!” I practically yelled out.
Macy only laughed as she added more mascara to her own eyes. She leaned over the vanity and glanced at me from the mirror. “Well, maybe you will get some action,” she said, winking.
