Razorblade Regrets And Revenge Renegades

"Quit doddling," Heather orders, tugging harshly at my wrist as I try to remain closer to Tom.

I pull my arm away harshly and scowl. "What's you're problem? I'm not a dog, I know how to get home without you dragging me there," I remark.

She shrugs it off, probably figuring that I'm just not in a good mood. But she spins on her heel and continues strutting down the sidewalk home.

"Why'd you have to tell her," I mutter under my breath to Tom the second I have the chance.

"I thought it was our life mission to make other people miserable," Tom states innocently, carrying a blank facial expression to go along with his story before he can't help but smirk at his doings.

"That doesn't entitle your friends, meat-head!"

He flinches away as I mock-hit him across the head.

He mutters something to himself entitling the word 'friend', but I can't hear it so I shrug it off. I can only assume that it's an insult because after a short awkward silence, he shoves his hands deep in his pockets and quickens his pace to catch up with Heather. I find it hilarious, seeing as it will only be a matter of time before they wanted to bite each other's heads off; Everyone knows that Heather and Tom don't like each other.

And so I watch, and I wait from my few meter's distance; Waiting for the eruption that surprisingly enough, never comes. I dwell in my melancholy solitude, kicking whatever pebbles cross my path. My pace is soon but realized to be that which resembles a turtle when I look up to see that my two friends are all but a mere silhouette on the horizon. It doesn't take much to realize that today's events have not been so adventurous. Instead, they seem more like that of a nightmare.

The rest of the evening seemed to pass by in slow motion; as if I were s subject on a stage surrounded by an audience of critics and examiners. I arrived home to find yet another note on the fridge explaining that my mother had an 'emergency' meeting at work and would therefore be out of town for the weekend. Typical...

This of course, means that both Emily and Matt are at our grandmother's house where they always are when these sorts of 'incidents' popped up. Realistically I would be there too, but my grandma is well aware of the fact that I'm well passed the maturity level to be able to stay home alone for the weekend. That way everyone's happy.

Anyways, it isn't long after that when the rest of the guys show up with pizza and Monopoly; a typical weekend tradition. Unfortunately for me, this also entitles that the rest of the gang has to witness my horrid transformation. After the game is over, Heather rabidly tears apart my closet, unorganizing everything that had been so carefully put in place by means of color and style.

"Oh my god- This is perfect," she squeals, throwing a little red dress my way.

I furrow my eyebrows and scrunch up my face. "Um... Heather, this is my grade eight graduation dress... I don't even think that this fits me anymore!"

"Okay," she sighs, taking it from me and throwing it onto the floor, adding to the pile of clothes she has already begun constructing.

I shift my weight to my left side and cross my arms in a pout. "I don't see what the big deal is anyways... Why can't I just wear what I'm wearing now?"

"Because," she responds, pausing what she's doing just long enough to give me an annoyed glare. "It's Danny Morgan- You can't wear just anything! You have to look elegant; You have to be gorgeous!"

"Why are you making such a big deal out of this guy? Danny Morgan's a jerk," Heather's boyfriend, Connor says. "Anna's not even interested in the guy..."

His older brother, Bishop pulls out a pack of smokes and balances one between his fingers. "Even if I was in school, I'd probably still hate the guy- and I've never even met him," Bishop states.

"If you were in school, you'd hate everyone," I remark with a kiddish smirk.

"Ah-ha," he says, nodding in agreement. "That, dear Anna, is why I'm not in school anymore."

"Not true," Tommy says. "You're not in school because you're the strong silent type that got too caught up in the party scene!"

Everyone laughs as Tom prances around Bishop like a fairy, making an obvious fool of himself.

"Shut up, twerp," B says, pushing Tom aside with ease.

Connor laughs even harder at this act of immaturity and I join in until Heather's the only one who's sitting with the hands on her hips.

"Excuse me," she says, "But if you guys are all done with your little joke, I'd like to bring it to your attention that I really have found the perfect outfit for Sienna's date!"

She throws me a pair of dark-wash skinny jeans, which seem normal enough until she throws the bright blue camisole at me after wards.

"Are you kidding me," I say.

"Sienna, it is quite obvious that true blue really is your color. Trust me- I know my colors, they taught me all about them in fashion!"

"You really are comparing me to a whore," I say.

"Settle down," she remarks, rolling her eyes. "You can wear a sweater, Anna."

"I'd better be..."

"Oh loosen up, Sienna; You're going to have to get laid at one point or another, you minus well make it with someone who counts," she remarks.

"Nice to know that's what you think of it," Connor states, obviously offended at her comment. She doesn't bother arguing with him. Instead, she just looks at him with a hopeless expression, as if he couldn't possibly know what he's talking about.

I don't bother to argue with her either. She's too obnoxious; I couldn't possibly win. Besides, I'm not in the mood to argue; I'm not even in the mood to talk. So I suck it up and stomp out the the room, bringing my sour mood to attention as I walk down the hall to the washroom to change.

I don't recognize myself when I look in the mirror. I tug endlessly at my sweater, trying to cover up the little bits of chest that seem so overly exposed. I make sure that I wear the belt I have that I always seem to have trouble un-doing. Even if I know that tonight is nothing but acquaintances meeting in a public, Heather's voice still seems to echo in my head. My hair is much smoother that it usually is. It's not elegantly disheveled; It's not disheveled at all... It's bouncy with waves which have been cursed to my head since birth. I'm wearing more make-up than usual- Of course, Heather has done it. She says that it brings out my eyes, but all I see is an invisible sign stating that I'm a cheap prostitute.

I walk back as if there were chains strapped to my ankles and fake a smile as I enter. Heather's excited, hugging me and telling me that I look beautiful as she claps with joy. Braedon cracks a joke about a body figure actually existing under the baggy clothes that usually dress my body. Sutton laughs and says not to worry about these kids; I looked fine. It felt like I was hearing the same thing over and over- As if I were a puppet being put on display for a world I've always hated. Bishop wasn't there, so I figured he had gone outside for a smoke. Connor smiled and gave me a hug, knowing that I must have been uncomfortable.

"It'll be fine," he told me. "Nothing will happen that you don't want to happen."

And it felt good to know that at least someone was on my side. But of course, it doesn't bother me the least bit that I'm miserable. Because whether or not Heather's obnoxious, she's still my friend. So I suck it up and walk out the front door just to impress her. And surprisingly enough, I find Tom run out after me.

"Hey, wait up- I'll drive you," he says.

"It's okay Tom, you can go back upstairs and write whatever it was you were writing. You don't have to come out here just to make me feel better."

"That's not why I came out here," he says, acting offended. "I came out here because I wanted to drive you. I figured it'd be nice."

"Yea well... I'm okay."

"You sure," he asks.

I nod. "Yea... I'll be fine."

"Oh... Okay."

I smirk. "It's alright, you don't need to get all offended."

And it was then that I thought that I could bring up why he was angry at me earlier. But instead I gave a smile and started on my way down the street to Star buck's coffee shop. My heart was beating quickly. I was nervous, and I almost regretted not taking up on Tom's offer. I was alone...