Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Dace came up to me after ninth period to tell me he had called mama and she was fine with me going over to study and spending the night with Carla. With the look in Daces eyes and the way he said, "I don't trust Carla," I knew he didn't think we were studying. He probably saw some hint in my eyes explaining that he was right and that I WAS lying... Mama trusted him though as she did me so we'd be okay. I'll show up in school tomorrow and they'll believe I had studied for some test i really wasn't having.

    In my chest, guilt was building up like a wall between what was right and what was wrong but before it could get any taller, I demolished it when Carla smiled at me proudly as I walked out of the school towards her. She put a hand on my shoulder, removed some of the hair from my face, and said, "I knew you'd some day join the wild side."

    I smiled faintly back, holding my binder firmly to me, "When are we going to meet your friends?"

    She wrapped one of her arms around my shoulders, leading me forward like I was crippled and couldn't walk by myself. I let her, feeling as rotten as soured milk, thinking that I could still back out. Dace had just left minutes ago, he couldn't be that far but I knew if I did, Carla wouldn't be my friend much longer and she was basically like an older sister to me. I couldn't lose her. 

    "We'll go to my house first. Mom and dad are both at work so that takes care of getting caught." With her other hand, she removes the flower pin from her hair and throws it hard, letting it cut through the air and tumble across the schools parking lot. "Mom got mad at me this morning and made me wear this stupid outfit."

    Carla's mom was repeatedly trying to change her daughter but Carla was always finding a way out of everything. I remember one time I went over their house and Carla got mad at me because her mama took one look at me and said, "Carla, why can't you be more like Star instead of all your other friends?" Took me three days to get her to forgive me.  

    "Anyways," she continues and squeezes my shoulder lightly, now  taking the direction towards the trailer she calls a house. It wasn't too far away, much farther then where I live but I was grateful for the exercise. She was ashamed for where she lived which was why she got use to calling it a house. It's bigger then our apartment though. I tell her that all the time but she usually ignores me when I try to make her feel better. "We'll go to my house to change into something really sexy. Were probably going to have to bring an extra set of clothes, just in case."

    "Just in case, what?" Panic rose into my voice and I began to really wonder what I was getting myself into. Sure, it was a party, nothing too harmful unless you lived in a place like I do, where everyone has no money and would do anything to get some to feed their addictions.

    Carla chuckled and let me go, peeling off her shirt as we walked down the sidewalk, off of school grounds. I opened my mouth to yell at her but then I saw a tank top underneath. "Just in case some dumb a*s spills punch all over us, okay?"

    I rolled my eyes and lowered my binder, Carla setting her shirt across her shoulder and grinning when she gets whistled at by a passing car. "You honestly expect me to believe they're going to have just punch there? We'll have a more probability of getting thrown up on by some idiot who drank more then they can take."

   Carla stopped in her tracks, looking at me with a spark of appreciation in her eyes. "You see Star, that's what I like about being your friend. They all think you're an innocent angel but as soon as someone pushes you too far, you don't grow wings but horns." She winks at me and starts walking again, her forced narrow hips swinging as a new pounce comes to her step. "With you there, something exciting is bound to happen."

    Her words hit me like a fast moving train and left me walking beside her, chewing on them. Did I really grow horns and bite them with words? Was I not really the pure and fragile star mama was always telling me I was? I've never questioned myself before but I've never lied either.

    At the trailer, she fished around in her closet, pushing back clothes and hangers, pulling off a few pieces of clothing, inspecting them, and then deciding they were worthless. She threw one hot pink t-shirt behind her and shook her head, curls moving wildly. "I really wish my parents took me out shopping a little more. Oh wait!" She gets to her knees quickly, just remembering something, and reaches inside the bottom of the closet. Pulling out a tote, she grinned up at me. I was sitting on the edge of her bed, my binder on my lap, still pondering over what I was about to do.  "These are the clothes mom tried taking away from me but I managed to make her feel bad. She let me hide them away."

    I wasn't really paying as much attention as she hoped I was. Not only was I worrying about possibly getting caught, I was thinking about all of the times I stayed over Carla's, her mama and daddy off at work and her smoking in her room, sneaking off to parties while I just stayed at her house till she came back. This time was different. I was going too.

    "Here," Carla threw pieces of clothing at me, making them hit me smack in the face. "I know you aren't paying any attention to me."

    I smiled softly and picked up the pieces, gazing over the short black skirt, lacy dark red tank top, and heels, gaping. I couldn't wear this. "Carla? How am I supposed to wear this? There's enough stitching here to slide over a cat, but not a person."

    Carla stood. She was holding up her own skimpy outfit; a hot pink sleeveless top with  blue booty shorts and flats. She also had fishnets in her hand. "Look Star, were going to one of Marx's parties so we have to look amazing! We need to turn heads."

    Marx Treadway was the only guy who won't even look Carla's way with interest, the only guy she has been talking about for months, longer then the normal fifteen minute talks she gives me about other boys. He was good looking with tousled brown hair that always fell in his grey eyes and had a firm jaw with a crooked smile set into it permanently. I don't remember a time where he didn't smile. He was one of the most popular guys at our school but at our school, that didn't necessarily mean a good thing, at least not to Dace.

    I kind of had a secret crush on him, nothing major, and since Carla was more fun and more into him then I was, I knew she had a better chance then me. So I keep my mouth shut and go my merrily way without a Marx Treadway in thought. Just knowing this was his party though made my heart do a tiny flip-flop that I quickly ignored. "Yes Carla, we want to look amazing, not skimpy."

    Carla already had begun taking off her tank top, pulling on the sleeveless hot pink shirt over her lacy bra. Of course, her cleavage was out as if showing for a trophy case and was ready to be prized. "Don't be such a party pooper," she said to me and started pulling off her jeans, replacing them with fishnets and the booty shorts. 

    I reluctantly stood up and turned away from her, stripping and putting on the clothes she gave me. As soon as it was all on, I felt like I was still naked, exposed. I didn't have as much as a chest as she did but the tank top felt too tight around that area, pushing it all up. "This is ridiculous," I commented, going to the mirror in her bathroom and gazing at myself. "I look like a stripper changed clothes with me."

    Carla went into the bathroom too and gazed at both of us in the mirror, the biggest smirk on her face. Her eyes were glittering with anticipation. "You look great! Who cares if you look like a stripper anyway. At parties like these, no one will notice." she threw an arm around my shoulders and squeezed. "I just hope Marx will notice what he's missing. He'll take one look at me and drop to his knees, begging for mercy." Her voice had taken that dreamy tone, making her sound like a little girl dreaming about being a princess.

    I chuckled softly and shook my head, the only response I had to her talking as if tonight she was a skimpy Cinderella and Marx will be her prince, wanting nothing more but to take her hand and "dance." And even though I had the teensiest crush on him, as did many other girls at our school, jealousy didn't spark in me at all. I wanted Carla to get what she wants. I wanted her to be happy because like everyone else around here, she had to find happiness in things that were fake, bringing happiness that slowly sucked the life out of people. Why couldn't she find true love? It couldn't be impossible for her or for me, right? Not that I expected to fall in love at this party. Maybe fall on my face but that's about it. 

    After Carla got done explaining her dreams, she fixed mine and her hair and makeup. She let her curls go naturally, bouncing above her shoulders, red lipstick smeared across her lips. She put on her eyeliner thick but mine light  after I complained about it. I didn't like makeup that much. Made me feel fake and yet when we left the trailer, my golden curls loose, bangs up, and my body squirmed into this outfit, I not only felt like a fake but I felt like a liar too.

    Maybe, I thought to myself, practically glued to Carla's side in the darkness, I shouldn't say feel. Feeling and being are two separate things.