Anyway. This is. Uh. Quite a long chapter, so I hope it'll make up for the month this blog has died. :/ Once again, I am so sorry, feel free to bash me on the tagbox or something I don't know, but yeah. Enjoy the chapter! (:
That night, as Carmen desperately looked through her limited closet for something to wear, her mother opened the door.
"It's Lena, dear."
Carmen frowned.
"Tell her I'm busy."
"She says she won't hang up until you come to the phone."
Not giving her anytime to explain, her mother placed the phone on her bed and strode out. Carmen had no choice but to pick it up.
"What do you want?"
Lena, hearing her voice, started to babble.
"Hey girl, I don't know what's got your knickers in a knot, but you're pissed at me, ain't you? Because of this morning? Tuna-breath told me via IM earlier. So, uh, I don't know what I did so care to enlighten me? Like seriously, I'm tired of walking around on tenterhooks, see. It's like you're a grenade, about to explode anytime and it's really scary so like, tell me what's your problem and I'll see what I can do, 'kay? Yeah and - "
Carmen interrupted her rant halfway through.
"For one, it's always because of you that I get angry these day. Blame yourself. Two, it's not my problem, it's yours. Three, yes, you can do something about it, get out of my life!" and she hung up.
Suddenly, she felt sick. All she wanted to do was cry her heart out because it had hurt so badly to do that to her best friend. But she forced herself to get up and skim through her closet once more.
"Aurelique High, huh. Impressions, impressions..." She continued to tell herself she had to impress those rich, smart kids. However, she knew it was no good - the person she really wanted to make sit up and notice her was Stephen. He saw her as a friend, and try as she might, she couldn't accept that.
The most I can do right now is to let him see what he's missing by not going out with me, she told herself. Clarissa's like a strawberry, pretty on the outside, plain dull on the inside. Anyway, is it really right trying to change my looks for a guy?
She thought about all the feminist icons she used to worship as a tween. I mean, look at Jordin Sparks. She had her looks publicly denounced by Simon Cowell, yet here she is now, winner of American Idol!
She kicked ferociously at her bed. Why do I have to conform to standards set by the fashion industry or Hollywood? I get what Dylan is trying to say now. If I want to wear sweats, I should probably try to look good in sweats or something. Okay, that's a crappy analogy.
Foraging in her wardrobe, she brought out a sweater dress that Dylan had given her, but she had never had the guts to wear. Fortunately, it was purple and black which softened the clash with her hair. She wasn't going to wear jeans. If she remembered correctly, Stephen and the guys liked to have a water fight at the playground. She'd just have to stick with leggings.
Bring on Sunday.
Dylan was complaining again.
Carmen rolled her eyes irritably. "Shut it, Dylan. At least you should be pleased that I don't look all that bad today."
Dylan allowed himself a grin. When Carmen had informed him about her outfit, he had rushed out to Betsey Johnson at the Meatpacking District and purchased the 'perfect' floral leggings for her to wear instead. They were coloured in every single shade of purple: lilac, fuchsia, lavender, violet, indigo, even the faintest vestiges of pearly grey white. Carmen loved them.
"It's just," he pressed as they dodged the double-decker bus on Bleecker Street, "why do I have to come along?"
"Stephen invited you too, silly!"
"So?"
"So I need you for moral support!"
Dylan glared at his fancy Ferragamos. He had dropped the preppy bad boy look (a mix of Adam Lambert and Justin Bieber) for a plain grey vest, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and white shorts. Add a tennis racket and a couple of headbands and he'd look like a better-looking Roger Federer at a French Open.
"Moral support?" He snorted softly and continued grouching about extras while burning up his shoes. "I wasn't even popular until middle school!"
Carmen recalled the huge bunch of kids always encircled around the petite boy during every elementary school break. He had always received this endless flow of Mars Bars and she had been so jealous. Not popular? She had to do her best to hold in the sniff simply begging to get out. She walked slightly faster in order to escape the never ending flow of grumbles, but then stopped short. The playground loomed ominously over her, towering in all its glory. The long red slides which Carmen so loved now seemed like oppressive warnings, telling her not to go further. Somebody had tied tinsel onto the ladders and jungle gym. There were streamers hanging from the swings. Balloons decorated the monkey bars. All the rocking horses now sported big round spectacles. The festive atmosphere felt like Carmen's worst nightmare.
Dylan, still staring fiercely at his shoes, walked directly into her.
"Ow!"
"What ow, watch where you're going!"
Dylan scowled and made to reply, but was rudely cut off by a drunken somebody barrelling straight into him. Carmen recognised Drake the defender's short, spiky hair.
"Hey! W-whatcha doin' here...you're not from soccer!"
He squinted suspiciously at them both.
"Why hello to you too, ugly." Dylan sniped bitchily. "Looks like the house of H&M has done it again."
Drake blinked stupidly, suddenly resembling a very short, very hairy gorilla.
"You want m'n'ms? We have some here." He indicated a small, brown packet crushed in his sweaty palm. Holding it up to his face, Dylan squinted at the label.
"That's not m'n'ms! That's - "
But he was abruptly cut off as long fingers slammed themselves over his mouth.
"Oh dearie me, we can't have you spreading rumours about our m'n'ms, can we?" Charlie Tune, arms trembling with the effort of keeping Dylan from getting free, almost stepped on Carmen's pumps. "Now, let's go somewhere else, far far away from these little chocolates, shan't we?"
He pulled Dylan bodily into a half-nelson and bundled the struggling boy off.
Drake the defender blinked stupidly and turned to Carmen. He offered the small packet to her.
"Go on! They're sweet. Like...like...chocolate. Yeah, chocolate! M'n'ms are made of chocolate! Take some!" He grinned so wide it looked like a grimace.
Carmen shook her head quickly. She didn't know what those were, but the weren't anything like m'n'ms, she was sure.
Drake staggered nearer and brandished the packet in her face.
"Take it! Take it!"
"No I don't want to - "
"Take it!"
"No - "
"Just take it!" He was about to shove a small red pill in her mouth when a hand caught his.
"Leave her alone. Do you not know how to treat a lady?"
"La...dy...?" Drake's eyes were rolling confoundedly in his head. Carmen could see the white all around his eyeballs. Slowly, he turned his heel and tottered away. Full of gratitude, Carmen turned around all ready to thank her benefactor and came face-to-face with Clarissa.
"...what are you doing here? You're not even from Jude Elementary!" It came out as a moan. Clarissa looked taken aback at her unhappy statement, but replied all the same.
"I was the one who gave Stephen the idea of an elementary school reunion," she smiled. "It is quite popular an idea, do you not think?"
Judging from the massive amounts of people milling around the endless plain, Carmen would say it was.
"That is a nice dress, by the way. It is a bit over-the-top, but it suits you!"
Carmen snapped back to attention. Over-the-top? She looked down at her pretty outfit. Then she looked at Clarissa's. Denim cutoffs and a feathery blouse framed her slim shape. Her thick black hair was held back by simple scrunchies. Carmen looked back at the people around. Shorts, baggy tops and slippers featured prominently all around. She was definitely overdressed.
Evidently noticing the dismayed expression on Carmen's face, Clarissa immediately tried to smooth over her blunder.
"I mean, uh, it looks good! Not that you are overdressed or anything, this was supposed to be a formal event but Stephen asked everyone to come casually...oh my God, is this your idea of 'casual'? It is very stylish! - "
Carmen cut into Clarissa's frantic babbling.
"No, uhm. It's okay. Really. Guess I didn't get the memo then, did I? Thanks for saving me from Drake, anyway."
She turned to walk away and look for Dylan so she could drag him home, but a small voice called her name.
"There is someone you want to meet at this party, is there not?" Clarissa's eyes were filled with apologies.
Slowly, Carmen nodded.
Clarissa's face lit up with happiness. "I will bring you over."
The squeezed through bunches of guys comparing muscles and gaggles of girls laughing over spiked punch. Carmen's pumps, once light grey, were not hidden under clumps of wet grass and mud from somebody's sports shoes. She grabbed Clarissa's graceful shoulder as she almost tripped over a wire, then smiled awkwardly as the older girl took her hand. Finally, they fought their way out from the pressing crowd. The noise died down, her glasses stopped fogging up and she could just make out three tiny silhouettes sitting underneath a huge ash tree. She turned to ask Clarissa what was going on, but the slim Asian girl was already by the edge of the crowd. She blew a kiss to Carmen and strode back where she had come from.
Carmen uncertainly turned and made her way towards the small group at the base of the tree. She could barely make out the tell-tale mullet of Piotr Schmidt, holding a glass of punch in his right hand with his legs crossed. He hadn't sat like that since he joined the soccer club, halfway through middle school. As she got nearer, she recognised Stephen's melodious laughter and saw his green eyes twinkling with mirth. However, the blonde girl with the pixie haircut and woolen sweater didn't look familiar. As she watched, the blonde girl placed her narrow hand on top of Stephen's, and he squeezed it tight. Carmen stared, shocked. Was this Clarissa's plan? To let her see Stephen with another girl from Aurelique High, so she would just give up? Did Clarissa even know Stephen was cheating on her? Quickly, Carmen turned around to walk away, trying to hold back the wail of anguish that was begging to be let out. However, a lilting voice infused with shock, surprise and joy, called her name.
"Carmen!"
She turned around to see the blonde girl leaping over cups on punch in the middle of the picnic mat. The girl scrambled over to her side and took her hand, her wide, unassuming smile filling her face.
Wait.
Wide, unassuming smile?
She blinked once, twice, then in the loudest voice she could muster (which was scarcely above a whisper), asked, "Amanda?"
Congratulations. Both you and I have made it to the end. Thanks for waiting so long and staying loyal to our (very dead) blog, next chapter is in progression.
MIKE
