“No. Definitely not. Oh my God, that is so awkward!” Carmen sighed and flopped down on her bed, where clothes littered every corner. She had invited Lena to her house for a day of ‘mixin’-n-matchin’,” but she had turned up at her doorstep three hours early with armfuls or clothing and a grouchy half-awake Dylan in tow.
Said lad-partner waved a floral scarf from the bean bag he was lazing on. “Hey. Try this with those jeans of your sister’s.”
Lena bustled over, snatched the scarf from his hand and tied it around Carmen’s neck with unnecessary force. She stepped back, surveyed the effect and ripped it of brutally.
“It’s disgusting. Can’t you understand that floral prints clash so badly with her hair?”
“Who said she had to let her hair down then?” Dylan crossed the room in three bounds and lifted Carmen’s fiery locks off her neck. “Tie it up with a string and voila!”
Lena slapped his hands away and stormed off, where she picked up a sequinned mini dress and thrust it at Carmen without a word. Carmen didn’t take it, but sighed.
“Guys. I really appreciate what you both have been doing, but well…no one has asked me what I want.”
Non, non, non!” Dylan yelled. “No sequins! Flech! Tres terrible! She looks like a showgirl from Vegas!”
“Guys!” Carmen roared. Dylan, who was kicking his way through piles of clothes and flapping his arms like some agitated fashion director at a botched fashion show during Fashion Week, stopped and glared at her.
“Can I choose what to wear?” she pleaded. To make the trying on process more convenient, she wore nothing but a camisole and shorts. If Dylan wasn’t gay, she would have been blushing to the roots of her hairline.
Lena bristled. “The whole point of us coming over at this ungodly hour was so we could help you, Carmen Marie Lewis.”
“I know, and I appreciate it, but actually, you were the one who showed up three hours early,” Carmen pointed out.
Lena ignored her. “You know your fashion taste is atrocious.”
“And?”
“And so, we can’t just let you choose your clothes like that! You’ll probably just pick out a hoodie and track pants again!”
Carmen guiltily tore her eyes from a pair of baggy pants sung across her computer chair.
“Oh this is hopeless,” Lena slumped down on a bean bag, her hands over her face. Катастрофа! Я не думаю, что есть что я могу сделать! Disaster! I don’t think there’s anything I can do!! None of my stuff even looks good on you! What are we going to do?”
Seeing her best friend so down made Carmen feel guilty. She gingerly perched herself on the side of the bean bag and placed a gentle arm on Lena’s shoulder. “It’s all my fault,” she said, “I shouldn’t have asked you for a makeover. Giving me, Carmen Lewis, a makeover? Such a joke, really. I mean, I can’t even get over my hoodies!”
"Then since you can’t get over your hoodies, how about you just wear them?” Dylan’s voice floated across the room. Carmen spun around and stared incredulously at him.
He held up a bright red hoodie Carmen recognized as one of her favorites, with Lena’s cute plaid mini skirt.
“Match this with stockings, a metal chain or two and hi-tops and whataya know, cute chicka on the block!”
Carmen seized the opportunity to try and cheer her best friend up, rushing over and snatching the clothes from Dylan. She nodded hurriedly at Lena as she looked up, the smile on her face plastered on so large she looked almost retarded.
Lena looked shocked for a moment, then irritated.
“Oh my God, Dylan, you have the worst fashion sense, ever!” Dylan scowled and opened his mouth as he made his reply, but Lena had already marched over to his side before he could say anything.
“Can’t you see that her hair’s red? Now this,” and she picked up a yellow hoodie lying on the floor next to her feet, “would work much better.”
Dylan cocked an eyebrow, but nodded. “I’m glad you see my point, sister.”
Carmen’s heart was overflowing with happiness. She was going to be a changed person completely! However, as she looked at the hoodie and skirt admiringly, a thought suddenly jumped to attention.
“Stephen likes girly girls. Not girls who wear punkish outfits like this, but sophisticated, elegant, kitten-heeled wearing girls like Clarissa. He won’t like these clothes at all!”
Lena sighed.
“You still haven’t given up on that jerk yet?” Carmen shook her head despondently and attempted to sink into the bean bag.
“There are tons of other boys in our school, you know? Even Charlie Tune-”
“Charlie Tune? You mean old Tuna-breath? Pfft, I tell you, that guy’s a complete idiot!” Dylan exploded in. “Just because I has asked him where he had gotten those jeans…” he trailed off as Lena glared daggers at him.
“Now where was I? Oh yes, Stephen Taylor the lowly jock is not worthy of a beauty like you!”
Carmen choked on her own saliva at the word ‘beauty’. Lena transferred her death glare over.
“You are pretty, yeah?” Like I totally saw you asleep the other night and your eyelashes are the length of my mom’s old broom twigs! Come on, little miss, not everyone has a flawless alabaster complexion,” Carmen fingered the big red pimple on her nose, “or legs that go on for miles! God, darling, get real and go for, like, a better-looking dude already.”
“He’s the best-looking guy in the level, dear,” Dylan snarked, “better than Tuna-Breath at least.” He place his hands on Carmen’s shoulders. “Go for him, honey. I’ll be behind you all the way.”
But suddenly, Lena stood up and threw the bunch of clothes she was holding on the floor. “Fine. Be that way then. Chase after Taylor like the lovesick loon you are. You’re too good for him, I’ve said it again and again, but if you want to lower yourself to his status, I don’t give a damn. Wear those pretty dresses bimbos and preps sashay around in, but don’t look for my help."
She marched out of the room, head held high. Downstairs, the door slammed sharply.
Dylan scowled. “Who does she think she is? This her house of something?”
Carmen shrugged. She had felt a flash of anger at Lena’s harsh words but it had been quickly replaced by disappointment at herself as she realized how true Lena’s words were.
“She was right. Why am I so hung up over him? I mean, he’s good looking, sporty and so smart, but so are you?” She turned to him. “Well, maybe not sporty,” she said, recalling his unfortunate mishap with a dodge ball the day before “But you get my idea! Why am I so attracted to him and not to you?”
Dylan sighed heavily and took her hand.
“Maybe it’s because I’ve known you forever? Or because you realized I was gay before I did?”
Carmen groaned and hid her face between her knees. “It’s just so hard!” she cried, stricken. “All I want is for him to notice me, but he’s so fixed on Clarissa he can’t even see anyone else! And Lena, she calls herself my best friend but she won’t even give me her full support for this small thing?”
Dylan fell into the beanbag next to hers. “Hey. You know my birthday’s coming soon, right? Yeah so my gran, she lives in South Dakota, way far from here so she sends my birthday money early every year. I was planning to get those cute ripped jeans Abercrombie & Fitch makes such a big deal of, but I guess you’re more important.” He smiled. “You up for some shopping?”
That’s it for this chapter, folks. Gosh, I’ve carpal’s tunnel from typing Mike’s Craps. If you hadn’t guessed by now, this is Mike’s work. I just did the typing :D
Yoomi
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