The Last of the American Girls

We arrived at my aunts in record breaking timing. She smiled from the porch as we grabbed our bags. “How was the drive?” She asked curious as she led us to the guest room.

“Decent, which was surprising because we left late,” I say as I throw my bag onto the bed. She clucks her tongue. “We weren’t going that--- fast auntie.” I say smiling, which earns me an eye roll.

“So what’s the plan?” She asks as she watches me grab my concert clothes out of the bag.

“My plan is to shower and then get ready.” I say smiling. “Then grab a quick bite to eat.” I add when she opens her mouth to suggest food. She sighs and leaves the room. “I call shower first.” Marissa just nods and waves me off.

After my shower I change into my pink skull and crossbones bra and matching lace panties. Then I pull up my ripped jeans that show just a bit too much for me to wear them to anywhere but concerts. I pull my low cut green day tank over my head and smile at the amount of cleavage shown. I open the door of the bathroom brushing through my curly brown locks to make them straight and I hear a gasp from my aunt.

“YOU ARE NOT GOING ANYWHERE DRESSED LIKE THAT!!!” She yelled and I nearly fell back from the shock.

“Why?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You look like a no good hooker hussy!” My aunt says with a loud remark.

“How else do you expect me to get to the front of the pack of screaming men and fangirls? It’s not like I’m going to sleep with anyone. But if I was cursed with a DD cup then I damn well will be using to my advantage.” I cross my arms and jut out my hip.

“Dressing like that to get closer to the stage? That’s just insane Alisa.” She turned around annoyed at my attire. “Honestly, kids these days.” She muttered while walking away from me.

“I’m not a child; I can dress how I want.” I said and walked into the guest room to tell Marissa to go get in the shower.

“What was all that about?” Marissa asked when I entered the room. I rolled my eyes and spun in a circle. “Damn Alisa! You look HOT.”

“Yeah, that’s what all that was about. My aunt didn’t agree with my attire.” I made a face at my best friend. She started laughing.

“There’s nothing wrong with your attire. We’re going to a concert. It’s not like we’re going to church.” I joined in her laughter.

“My point exactly!” I say and then go and sit on the bed. “Go get ready. Cause I won’t hesitate to leave your ass to not be late.”

“All just to see your precious Billie,” she muttered and left the room.

“Yeah, but there’s nothing wrong with me wanting to miss seeing him.” I say and begin to rub my wrist. I always did this when she made fun of my affections towards Billie. The scars were faded and you really wouldn’t notice them unless you felt them. My skin was ragged where it hadn’t been allowed to heal properly.

His music had given me something to look forward to. I’m sure it seemed stupid and that my life was perfect. But when my parents finally caught me running a knife over my wrist, people realized just how much I was hurting from all the pressure to be perfect. I began to listen to Green Day, soon after I was taken off of suicide watch. They said that I had improved and had been able to channel my emotions through the music.

I sighed and stopped rubbing my wrist, what would people think if they felt my wrist? I shook my head and grabbed my black fingerless elbow high gloves. I wasn’t about to find out what people thought about the damage I’d caused to myself. Then I grabbed my makeup bag and plopped down in front of the full body mirror. I applied my eyeliner and mascara. Then I chose a bright pink eye shadow to match my pink undergarments, not that anyone would really notice that.

Marissa came back dressed in a low cut shirt and short shorts. She did her makeup and then we were ready to go. I made sure I had everything for the concert; money, tickets and everything else. I waved to my aunt and we were on our way to the Green Day concert.