Upchuck

"Sometimes, you make me feel like throwing up." I blinked, frowned, and looked up from my survey. "What?" She shrugged in thought. "Like, you make me sick of not hearing you talk."

"Sometimes, you make me feel like throwing up."
I blinked, frowned, and looked up from my survey. "What?"
She shrugged in thought, and idly flicked off some eraser-shavings from the table. "Like, you make me sick of not hearing you talk."
I looked back to my survey. Question number one: Have you ever been to the zoo? If so, when, and how old were you?
I was sixteen, and took my neighbor's devil spawn to see the penguins. By the end of the day, I was out of money, covered in ice cream and the food pellets you feed the koi fish, and banned from the zoo.
"But not really."
"Not really, what?" I asked, noticing I forgot to write my name at the top and doing so.
"You don't literally make me sick. You just make me tired and fed up. Like after I've thrown up."
I ground my teeth in annoyance, causing me to wince. "Whatever." I sighed exasperatedly and continued on my survey. "I don't understand your issues, but if there are any, you should get away from them."
Question two: Do you have any siblings? If so, how old are they and where do you fall in the line of secession (oldest, middle, youngest)?
Note to self, call my sister. I think I was supposed to get ahold of her last week to ask about her car- she's selling it, and I need one.
"Is that how you deal with things?"
"How I deal with what?"
"Your problems. You just ignore them."
I looked up from my survey again, and glared. Mysty stared out at me from under her bangs, which were dyed a gradient fuchsia. Her chin was propped up onto her left hand. Her nails were painted an aquamarine blue color, and they gleamed in the light streaming in through the tall library windows.
Because I have, apparently, an icy stare, Mysty rolled her eyes and looked away. She sat up more and stretched, then decided to stare out the window instead of at me in boredom. Her long, pale blonde hair cascaded across her shoulders in loose curls.
I harrumphed and answered a few more questions.
Question three: What is your favorite season?
Did I have one? I didn't really like any- summer was too hot and sweaty, fall was too dry and that was when school/work started, winter was too cold, and spring was too rainy.
So, none.
Question four: What is your favorite item of clothing?
My favorite--what? I scratched behind my ear and then wrinkled my nose back and forth. I would have to say…my loafers. Well, they're kind of slippers. But I wear them everywhere. Except outside, because that would be their ruin. Either those or my hoodie would be my favorite item of clothing. My hoodie's black, woolen, and fur lined at the top. Cozy.
Question five: Have you ever fallen in love?
"I think you need to go shopping."
I let out an annoyed grumble. "What for?" Shopping? Me? No way. Only on necessity.
"You need some better clothes. Seriously, you look like a slob all the time."
Mysty stood and walked around the table to inspect my clothes and hair. She adjusts my hoodie, which is sort of tight to my abdomen but loose enough that it has some lee-way. "Look at this, when did you wash this, it smells like…I don't even want to know."
She tugs at my sleeve. "There's a stain here, too."
I sigh and inspect it. "Pizza."
"You eat too much pizza."
I shrug. "I like pizza. It happens to be my favorite food."
She lets out what is sort of a sigh, and stands back to inspect me again. Her hands fall to her hips and she sticks out her tongue at me.
After giving a giggle, Mysty grabs me by the hand and pulls me toward the library exit. I barely have enough time to grab my stuff before my feet are dragging across the carpet.
"Come on, we're going shopping!"
"What, no! I have to finish this survey!" I try to dig my heels in to stop her, but like it or not, she's stronger than me and I'm just a twig.
I have no choice but to be pulled out of this library.

She always does this- the, we go out to one place, she drags me out shopping eventually. But if you're wondering why Mysty gives me crap one second and then is all bubbly the next, you have to realize that's just her personality. She always does that because she thinks it's funny and that's the way she thinks.
Now let me go back and explain how we became friends. I was walking in to the cafeteria one day in my senior year of high school, and she slipped on some spilled peas. Her tray ended up all over my Batman t-shirt and we both ended up sprawled on the ground.
"Oh my gosh. Wow." Mysty laughed and stood up.
"You nearly crushed me!" I squeaked, gaping at my ruined shirt, now chicken-gravy and strawberry-jello stained.
"Yeesh, get a grip. Sorry for collapsing you."
"You think?"
She helped me up.
I angrily tried to get the food off of my shirt, to no avail. "Augh my shirt is ruined."
"Oh, Superman's better."
She did not.
"Superman's an alien on 'roids."
"Psh, Batman's a depressed millionaire orphan with no social life."
"Superman has super AIDS!"
"Yeah, what does Batman do with all those kids he takes in, huh?"
I was flabbergasted that this completely popular, fashion-forward, smart-mouthed girl was talking comic books with me.
After I realized I was half gaping, half smirking at her, she stuck out her hand and introduced herself.
"Hi, I'm Mysty."
I took her hand.
(New best friend?)

On our way to the mall, and from the hair stylist's I was trying to comb my jet black hair behind my ears. Mysty had forced me to cut it, saying it was getting to long and into a "mullet stage". Now it was more of a pixie cut that I couldn't decide whether I liked it or not.
But Mysty didn't let me mess with it any longer. She hit my arm with her hand every time I tried. I made an aggravated scream and held onto the seat for dear life when she decided to make a left turn with one hand at too fast of a speed.
"I hate your driving! I hate your driving! I hate, hate, HATE your driving!"
"Oh, shut it, pipsqueak." Mysty laughed and gunned it.

"Put the green one on next!" She called over the dressing room door.
I groaned and followed her orders, whining. "I hate shopping…"
Mysty laughed. When I was dressed and opened the door, she was leaning against the wall.
She gave me a strange, thoughtful look. "You're such a tsundere, I swear." She smiled at me.
I blinked and pulled at the seam of my shirt awkwardly.
"Anyway…" She stood up at little straighter and looked me over. I felt my cheeks get a little hot, and muttered under my breath.
"Looks good. Not with those jeans, really, but you look good."
"…Thanks…"
Mysty looked away from me, checking her phone. "It's getting late. How about we get some dinner?"

We laid on the back of her car, the night cool and the fatty food sitting low in our stomachs. We'd split a medium fry, and each had a burger and a small drink.
I belched, commented that it tasted like pickles, and she laughed.
"Mysty?" I asked after a few minutes of silence.
"Yup?"
"…What were you annoyed about? Earlier, at the library?"
"I don't know. It's not really that important."
"It was if it bothered you."
"Not really, it wasn't."
"But if…I mean, if I did or am doing something that's bothering you, you should say something…I'd say something if I was in your place."
She giggled. "That's what you'd do. I'm not you."
"I know, but…if something bothers you, it bothers me, too."
"Hey." Mysty placed her hand on top of mine for a few seconds. "Don't worry about it. Okay?"
When she moved her hand away and gathered our trash to throw away, I let out a long breath. "…Okay."
She gave me a hug, and then we got back in the car to take the slow drive home.

Author's Note

I don't really understand this, either.
using new(est?) character, Mysty. she's sort of based off of (another) ((cheesy as it is to say this)) girl from one of my dreams (not the same dream as Tamsyn). and that person was based off of someone else in real life (kinda, sorta, not really. and not on dA).
this is the second time I've made one of my characters go shopping pretty much unwillingly....
I don't think this will go anywhere, but I might edit it because I want more squintyhints lol .
Anyway, I'm not sure if it's that cohesive, either. I need to fix the character that is yet unnamed. It doesn't make that much sense. The plot is weird, and it doesn't even get wrapped up.
Yeah, lots of things to fix, but here it is! Tell me what you think.
(oh and, the narrator isn't Renn. or me. or Sam. or Noir. dunno who yet.)

((picture by SimpleOona on deviant art))