Does Perfect Exist?
Chapter 2
"Roxanne! Come here please darling!" my mom yelled from the top of the basement steps.
"Sure darling." I muttered as I dragged myself off of my bed and up the steps that led to the first floor. "What do you want mother?"
"Sweetie, could you set the table? The dining room tonight please, we have guests coming over. Your little friend and his parents. Umm... what's his name? Austin. Yes. Okay, come on." I stood there shocked as my mother spoke. So that's why Austin had been acting weird, he was freaking coming over for dinner and didn't tell me! God, that jerk! I wanted to freaking kill him! Instead, I slouched over to the cabinet that held the good china and set the dining table for thirteen. Our eight and his five. Somethings going to go wrong, I thought, thirteen plates, thirteen glasses, thirteen forks, thirteen knives, thirteen spoons, thirteen napkins, thirteen chairs. Do you see a pattern? THIRTEEN! God, my life sucks. And so will tonight.
"Roxanne! Come here please!" mom yelled from the kitchen. "You don't mind helping me, do you?"
"Actually mom, I had plans." I improvised. I absolutely hate cooking!
"No you don't." she said disapprovingly.
"Yeah, mom, I do." I spun on my heel and went back down to my basement room. I put on a black miniskirt, lime green tights, a white t-shirt, and purple converse sneakers. Add in a bunch of bangles and some fuschia lipstick with heavy eyeliner and I was ready to go in fifteen flat. I grabbed my purse and ran out of the house. Then I pulled out my cellphone.
"Mike, come get me." I said.
"Where are you?" Michael Mead, my best friend in the whole world responded. He was always so dependable.
"In front of our tree."
"Be there in two." He said, then we hung up. He not only has parents that don't really care too much about what he does, but he has a car too. My hero.
Two minutes later, true to his word, Mike pulled up in front of the big willow tree behind our school that is almost hidden by all the other trees. I hopped into the front seat and told him to just drive.
"So what's up?" he asked. Mike is absolutely gorgeous. He's a rebel like me so he really doesn't care what his parents think. He's got this medium long shaggyish brown hair and bright green eyes paired with a small set of dimples. Mike is the only one who truly cares about what happens to me.
"Sure darling." I muttered as I dragged myself off of my bed and up the steps that led to the first floor. "What do you want mother?"
"Sweetie, could you set the table? The dining room tonight please, we have guests coming over. Your little friend and his parents. Umm... what's his name? Austin. Yes. Okay, come on." I stood there shocked as my mother spoke. So that's why Austin had been acting weird, he was freaking coming over for dinner and didn't tell me! God, that jerk! I wanted to freaking kill him! Instead, I slouched over to the cabinet that held the good china and set the dining table for thirteen. Our eight and his five. Somethings going to go wrong, I thought, thirteen plates, thirteen glasses, thirteen forks, thirteen knives, thirteen spoons, thirteen napkins, thirteen chairs. Do you see a pattern? THIRTEEN! God, my life sucks. And so will tonight.
"Roxanne! Come here please!" mom yelled from the kitchen. "You don't mind helping me, do you?"
"Actually mom, I had plans." I improvised. I absolutely hate cooking!
"No you don't." she said disapprovingly.
"Yeah, mom, I do." I spun on my heel and went back down to my basement room. I put on a black miniskirt, lime green tights, a white t-shirt, and purple converse sneakers. Add in a bunch of bangles and some fuschia lipstick with heavy eyeliner and I was ready to go in fifteen flat. I grabbed my purse and ran out of the house. Then I pulled out my cellphone.
"Mike, come get me." I said.
"Where are you?" Michael Mead, my best friend in the whole world responded. He was always so dependable.
"In front of our tree."
"Be there in two." He said, then we hung up. He not only has parents that don't really care too much about what he does, but he has a car too. My hero.
Two minutes later, true to his word, Mike pulled up in front of the big willow tree behind our school that is almost hidden by all the other trees. I hopped into the front seat and told him to just drive.
"So what's up?" he asked. Mike is absolutely gorgeous. He's a rebel like me so he really doesn't care what his parents think. He's got this medium long shaggyish brown hair and bright green eyes paired with a small set of dimples. Mike is the only one who truly cares about what happens to me.
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