Chapter 3

Wherein a party happens, Razzie ditch, and they meet grumpy convenience store workers, a curb, and the most wannabe goth in the history of spray-painted buses.

     "Hooray! The day is saved!" I say, with much enthusiasm. It's my only line, besides chorus background lines. Yeah, being a minor character sucks, but that means it's another thing to complain about.
     Jax is the lead. Wow, what a perfect guy who get's everything! Not. Jax doesn't excel in anything else. So, let's have him have this one.  Tee hates drama(she pretty doesn't like anything that doesn't involve Germany. Her favorite class is History because it's World War II central. Creepy) but has faithfully gone to all of our productions, from third grade to ninth.
    "And...scene!" My drama teacher says, clapping her hands together once. "Okay, five minute break!"
    She starts passing out colorful fliers that I'll probably throw away.
    "Everyone, I know you're all very excited for the Halloween party tomorrow!" she says. She's not usually this hyper, I swear. I just put some pep pills in her container of heated water. My dad has a whole bottle in his medicine cabinet.
     I take the flier.

     Halloween Drama Fun!
Date: October 30th
Time: 8pm-?
Where: In the Unknown Hotel's ballroom.
What: Wear a costume!

    I sigh. Oh the mystery of that ? next to 8pm makes me want to go. Not.
    "You have to come, Raz. Can't go by myself," Jax says. I sigh once again, for the effect.
    "Fine. But you have to be a different costume other than 'pirate'."
    "Deal. Thanks, Raz." Have I mentioned that even though I say Raz or Razzie is fine, Jax is the only one who calls me Raz. Just a fun fact there.
    "Okay, back to your places!" My drama teacher calls. Tomorrow, sleeping pills.

    The Next Day (Hey, I'm lazy. Occasionally I'll time skip. My life isn't THAT interesting)
 
    I rummage through my closet, and pull out random items of clothing and throw it on my bed. After I'm done, I examine the items I've chosen. Fishnet tights. Hippie skirt, above the knees. My boots I bought the day before yesterday. A vest. White tee shirt. My old blue see through ballet skirt. My clip-on hat that's about the size of my fist. I put the ballet skirt over the hippie one. Fishnets underneath. Boots on. White shirt over my head. Vest buttoned. Hat clipped. And I just spent a worthless paragraph describing my outfit. Sorry, won't do it again.
   So, what does my thrown together outfit make me for Halloween? Absolutely nothing. But no one has to know that. I rim my eyes with dark eyeliner, and put some fake blood. Stage makeup is always handy in my bathroom.
 
    I live in an apartment with my dad. He's at work a lot, but on weekends we shoot hoops together. Our relationship is not important. He's on the couch now, watching a baseball game. Yes, cliche how he plays so many sports. But he also runs on treadmills to heavy metal albums, so I think it cancels it out.
   "Dad, I'm going to a party."
   He looks up briefly from the TV. "That drama one?"
   "Yeah."
   "With Tee?"
   "Yeah." I begged her to go with me.
   "And Jax?"
   "Yeah..."
   "Remember,"- Is he really going to-"don't drink any punch unless you know it's safe. And don't let any guys get in your pants."
   Eye roll. "Got it."
  "Have fun."

   What he doesn't know, is that after every party, we three go to Tee's, and have a sleepover kind of thing. Jealous, right? Yeah, Tee let's guys sleep over. Well, one guy. They like Jax and his innocence. Besides, he never sleeps in the same room as us; passes out on the couch.
  
   "Hey," Tee says as I hop in the backseat, clearing away the cd cases and other miscellaneous objects. She's wearing a Rocky Horror Picture Show t-shirt, and has ruby red lipstick on. It's the last minute costume that defines Tee so well. "Why am I coming to this thing?" she asks.
   "Because you love me and I'll die without you there," I say. Her dad doesn't speak and just drives, just like he always does. He drops us off, and we mumble a thank you.The Unknown Hotel is exactly what you expect: tacky statues, ugly carpets, and the odd smell of half cleaning.
  Cliche #4: The Party
   Our hero sits in the corner hating the party until a mysteriously sexy boy with ridiculously soft hair and grim smirk comes up and asks me to dance. Oh, yeah, and he's immortal. Cool!
   Reality: Okay, fine. A few guys ask me to dance. But their hair is not soft; overly gelled is more of an appropriate adjective. And they had this odd way of breathing; open mouthed and labored. Like they were trying to be mysterious, but made me want to pour the punch(I got it only to disobey my father; what a rebel) down their stupid last-minute costume.
  The music is typical and unoriginal; poppy hip hop with sexual innuendos. Jax is literally ready to stab his ears with a sharpened knife.
 "What are we doing here?" I ask over the roar of the music.
 Jax sighs, shrugging. "Don't even remember. This kinda sucks."
 Tee comes back from a -hopeless- attempt at getting the DJ to play something...not normal, I guess. By now you know our pet peeve of the unoriginality. She sighs as well. I start wondering what would happen if we just kept sighing.  We might sigh so much that we start choking and collapse to the ground. The whole party wouldn't even notice; they're too absorbed in groping members of the opposite sex. When the night janitor comes in to sweep, he sees three helpless teenagers laying like dead fish on the ground. He pulls out a cheap Walmart cellphone and calls 911. We wake up in the ER; Tee's dad sobbing uncontrollably. It's so tragic!
 I'm wondering if there might be any hot male nurses in my fantasy when Tee asks,"Why don't we ditch? There's a convenience store across the street. We can get junk food and pig out on the sidewalk."
Jax sighs, (again! My fantasy is getting more and more realistic by the second) relieved by the plan of escape. "Let's get out of here before someone puts on a slow song."
The very bored chaperones acknowledge us with a slight head nod when we leave through the door. I bet they wish they could leave, too. Escape from the pitiful life that is being a parent at a teenage party.
   We walk to the elevators, and I stare at myself in the mirror walls as Tee presses the 1st floor button. An eighties rock song is playing in the elevator, and Jax starts playing air guitar. I roll my eyes and give him a smack on the back of his head. He flips me off, and I stick my tongue out at him. This routine has been repeated many times throughout our friendship. Tee ignores us, and fades out of reality, going into Tee land. It's interesting(not) watching her constantly zone out of everything. It's her special talent, and hasn't earned her too much praise from teachers.
  The hotel is on the side of a busy street, cars zooming by; never caring about pedestrians.
  "Where's a crosswalk?" I ask, seeing the glowing convenience across the road. Jax points in silence to the crosswalk...a full block down. Tee shouts a profanity in German, and I just curse the good ol' American way.
  "S**t. We'll just have to make a run for it."
  With a lot of honking and swerving and almost-crashes, we hit the dirt in front of the store. The fluorescent lighting is bright and blinding, but tolerable. We wander the aisles under the close watch of the old man who runs it. He smells like my grandpa; grass and window cleaner. I find this out by looking at an uninteresting display of cheap sunglasses. Jax immediately picks up the Funn-yuns and a cream soda. Oh, right! I forgot to describe Jax's costume! Well, it's pretty basic. Black eyeliner, or, guyliner if you want to be specific, rimmed his eyes, and he slicked his hair in a weird emo way. Leather jacket. Tight jeans. When I inquired what he was, he just said,"Douchebag musician."
 At least we all have 20 bucks in our individual wallets. Mine is my hello kitty wallet. Jax's is made of duct tape. Tee's has a cat on it, a real one that's smiling; her parents bought it to promote her being more Asian. She immediately Sharpie-d over the cat's smiling face. I could spend five dollars on a chocolate bar, or on a pair of sunglasses. Here is the pros and cons list I've formed in my head:
   Item: The Sunglasses
  Pros: They look pretty cool. Black rimmed and doesn't show my post-test bloodshot eyes. 
  Cons: They're pretty cheap, and will probably break apart in seconds. Also...it's nighttime. So, useless.
  
   Item: Chocolate bar
  Pros: Delicious.
  Cons: Causes acne (oh god, not again!!), and is unhealthy.

 I would feel like a spending w***e if I buy both, so don't even suggest that. Tee says sunglasses, Jax says chocolate bar. I trust Tee's taste in convenience store sunglasses, so I pay the whopping four dollars, and we all leave with gum, chips, and three sodas. The old man sighs(him, too) and dutifully rings up our purchases. I imagine that he's muttering 'damn teenagers' to himself and wishing he was at home with his scotch n' brandy. Okay, I might be stereotyping him. Sue me.
 We leave the store, and walk a few feet(or yards or meters or miles) down the road, and sit on the curb. Jax passes me the chips, he passes me a piece of gum. Tee drinks her soda, but the bottle never touches her lips. I have a feeling she sometimes worries about germs. I remember that it's Halloween tomorrow. I check my watch. Eight thirty. It's dark enough not to be able to see a damn thing except the blinking headlights of cars. There aren't as many anymore; rush hour being officially over in Unknown.
  It's so dark that we don't notice the bus chugging up.
  The bus looks like a decaying school bus that someone sloppily spray-painted black. I'm guessing it's some 'WE'RE REBELS NOT CONFORMISTS!!!!' band that's going to buy some smokes because it makes them look cool. It parks on the sidewalk, a yard or two away from where we sat.
  I fully expect a staggering drunk punk to stumble out, but I am wrong. A high heeled boot comes stomping out, and the girl in question flips her blonde curly hair in a purely annoyed fashion.
  "You idiots!" she yells to whoever the hell is in that bus. Her outfit is truly horrible, but who am I to judge? I'm wearing a ballet skirt over a hippie one with combat like boots. I'll describe her clothing choices, because for some reason I keep doing that. But I have to now.
  A f*****g corset, guys. A corset! Red and black, wanna bee goth. Unidentifiable tattoos lace her arms, and reach down to her black fingernails. She's wearing criss-cross tights and the shortest skirt in the West...or East. Again, the location of Unknown must remain a secret. She pulls out a cigarette-of course, a smoker-and takes an addict's drag. Why does this goth girl have blonde hair? It's kinda distracting. I twirl my own neon green hair absently, wondering what people assume about me when they see it. She finally turns to us, so I can see her full face.
  Holy hell on a stick, that's the cashier from the thrift store a couple of days(days? weeks? months?) ago. The one with a weird greeting and a kilt. Wow, has she made a fashion statement.
  "Hey, you!" she snaps, pointing at none other than little ol' me.
  My mouth dries up like a strip club bathroom sink(because no one uses a sink in a stip club, I'm assuming.) and I don't speak 'till Jax elbows me. "Hello," I say.
  Cliche #5
  The woman is a vampire and says,"YOU'RE SO JUICY!" Then proceeds to bite my neck.
   Okay, so maybe that's not really a cliche, but the thought made me giggle, which made her glare.
  "You're wearing the necklace!" she says. I glance down at my chest, and there it is. That necklace with the shiny red bead in the middle, resting so innocently on my breasts. The one from the thrift store. I knew it was cursed.
  "Uh...yeah," I say. Tee and Jax have yet to say anything. What if this chick is a vampire, and bites me? What will they do? Take pictures? Write a novel about it? An interesting thought.
  She gives me a wicked grin, then says in a attempted threatening voice,"Well, then you and your friends are coming with us."

Author's Note

So, this took years to write. Writer's block, anyone? I'm trying to make Razzie's voice more prominent.
I still haven't come up with a more obvious flaw for Razzie. Any suggestions?