Pictures on Silence

"No! I don't wanna!"

"Danielle, get into the car right now!"

"No!"

I heavily lifted my head off my pillow and turned it slowly towards my door. Shut. But still made of wood thinner than my wrist, amplifying everything. With a groan, I dropped back onto the pillow and curled up on my side, cracking my back. My lips curled slightly; sleeping on my stomach always fucked up my spine.

"Danielle Aislin Callaghan, no dessert for a week!"

"What?! No!"

"Some of us are still sleeping!" I bellowed with my eyes shut. The house fell silent. Finally, fuck, I thought in relief.

Unfortunately, my door opened a few seconds later and even though I didn't turn around, I knew that Mackenzie stood in the doorway with hands on hips and an ugly scowl on her face. God damn it. "Rhiannon, get out of bed and apologise or else you're not going anywhere tomorrow."

You have absolutely no right to use that name, I growled mentally. However, I have no backbone when it comes to speaking my mind to my parents, so I muttered a turbid apology and waited until she shut the door again. "Teenagers need as much sleep as possible," I muttered in my deep, throaty morning voice as I sat up. "Otherwise they degenerate into vicious, psychotic killing machines." My cell buzzed on my dresser, and I picked it up with a sigh. A smile materialised.

"Hey, Spencerface."

"Woah, what happened to your voice?" Spencer asked on the other end. "You feeling okay?"

"You kidding? I always sound this attractive in the morning." I stood up waveringly and held the phone to my shoulder as dug around in my drawers. "Shit, I need a bigger phone."

He laughed. "I thought the idea was to get the smallest phone possible."

"Eh, screw trends. What's up, man? It's quarter to eight over here."

"Aw, shit, I'm sorry. I forgot about the time difference." I snorted as I brought an armful of clothes into the bathroom. "I'm in Illinois, what do you want?" A laugh escaped my lips. "Sorry about waking you."

"Nah, it's cool," I excused. "I was up already. My half-sister and stepmother were yelling. I'll call you back in a bit, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay. See ya, Angiepants."

"Ciao, Spence." I ended the call, spun the knobs of the shower, and stripped all my clothes off. My usual shower consisted of soaping up with coconut shower gel, shaving my armpits and legs, and washing my hair. Unfortunately, my cell rang in the middle of my watery rendition of Franz Ferdinand's "'40" and I leaned out of the curtain, dripping everywhere, and held the phone to my ear.

"Hey, Ange," Ryan greeted pleasantly.

"Morning, dollface. Hey, I'm kind of wet and naked right now. Could I call you back?"

The awkward silence on the line made me crack up, but out of respect, I shut myself up. My phrasing of that sentence could not have improved. Not at all. "Oh... uh, sorry... Later." And then he hung up. I rolled my eyes, still laughing at him, and returned to the streaming water.

Standing in bra and underwear as I dried my hair, I hummed as Spencer's phone rang. "What did you say to Ryan?" he laughed.

"Why?" I asked curiously, pulling on my jeans.

"He walked by all red-faced and locked himself in the bathroom." I made a perplexed face at the mirror and laughed slightly. "I think he's taking a cold shower. He'll probably be in there a while."

"Oh god, Spencer, gross!" I exclaimed, laughing as I realised what he meant. I shuddered, chills running through me and raising goosebumps all over. "Don't tell me about Ryan's bodily maintenance!" Spencer laughed hysterically on the other end, giving me opportunity to put down the phone and pull on a black tank top.

"You're so prim, Angie," Spencer teased. "And so crass at the same time."

"Hey," I argued, exiting the bathroom to my room, "I have absolutely no problem with masturbation or any other sexual things my friends do, so long as I don't catch you or have to hear about it."

"I'll keep that in mind." I blew a raspberry into the receiver. "No, that's a good rule. But seriously, what'd you say?"
"I said I was naked and wet and could I call him back," I answered innocuously.

Spencer whistled. "No wonder. You make Ryan tight in the pants."

"Yeah, like Ryan's pants could be any tighter, and don't you dare make that dirty," I ordered. He laughed. I rolled my eyes at the whole scenario. "Look, tell the guys hey and have a good show. My friend Bianca and I are mallratting today; I haven't seen her since before tour, and I'm leaving again tomorrow."

"Girly bonding, huh? Sounds fascinating. Catch ya around. I'll be sure to make fun of Ryan once he's finished."

I laughed and we ended the conversation. Combing my hair out of my face, I looked at myself in the mirror and turned sideways. With a sigh, I mentally reproached my physical appearance, but then I thought about Ryan and blushed furiously. "Ew," I stated, shutting my eyes. "Ew, ew, ew. He can do better than me."

"Rhiannon Angela Callaghan, you harlot!" Bianca greeted as I strolled up from my car.

"Bianca Grace Miles, you hypocrite!" I shot back at the blonde with a grin. We squeezed each to death in a hug. "Sup, homie?"

We walked arm in arm into the mall, ignoring the strange looks people were giving the two nearly-six-foot-tall girls with incredibly long hair talking animatedly. "I missed you. Where the fuck did you disappear to?"

"Oh, you know," I stalled artfully, "Here and there."

"Really? Because I heard that you went on fucking tour with Panic! At the fucking Disco, you bitch!" I laughed and held up my hands as my best friend slapped at me. She pouted, blinking blue-green eyes heavily lined in black. "You didn't tell wittle ol' me?"

"Stop that," I order playfully. "You look creepy." She laughed as we boarded the escalator. "And I didn't tell anyone, so don't feel left out."

"So how was it?" I flashed her a grin. "Oooh! Does someone have something she wants to tell me? Something to do with a certain someone? Did it involve whipped cream or maple syrup?" I rolled my eyes with a laugh. "Come on! Fucking tell me already!"

I ordered a caramel macchiato from the barista (aka the coffee lackey) and smirked at her. "Nothing to tell, except that I failed at outdrinking Jon Walker." My cheeks heated. "And I slept in Ryan's bed twice," I mumbled quickly, averting my eyes.

Bianca's jaw dropped. "Did I hear you correctly? Did you just say you slept with Ryan Ross?" I smacked her arm and shushed her when I noticed the looks people were giving us. "You dirty slut."

"I'm not you, B," I scoffed, picking up my order. "I'm not going to jump a guy just because he's absolutely drop-dead gorgeous and in the same room."

"Or bed," she teased. I punched her arm and she gasped. "You're a mean fuck you." We both laughed.

I tossed a shirt over the door of her dressing room and told her to try it on, while I searched in the adjoining cubicle for something else to try on. If something didn't fit me, it usually fit Bianca. She owes a lot of her wardrobe to me and my ample frame.

"Hey, thanks!" she called. "This looks shmexy." I rolled my eyes and wriggled into a pair of jeans. "You took pictures of the guys, right?"

"Naturally. I'm not stupid." I looked at myself in the mirror and turned. "I just have to weed out the ones I don't want you to see." With a sigh that turned into a growl, I yanked off the sorry excuse for a shirt and hung it back up. "Sorry, I'm not into S&M."

Bianca laughed and tossed me a different shirt as I pulled out my phone. I frowned miserably at myself as it rang. "Hey, babycakes."

"Jesse, why do I ever go shopping?" I asked, glaring at my half-dressed form. "I always look like Jabba the Hut poured into a pair of low-rise jeans."

"No, you don't," Trill argued. "You're way more attractive than that. You just need to find a certain cut and style."

I whined a pathetic noise. "Why do you have to be so reasonable? Why can't you just agree that I'm disgusting?"

Jesse laughed, and I heard a guys voice in the background say something muffled. "Is putting yourself down the only reason you called?"

"That and to tell you I lobhe you with a bee hach." Trill laughed and said, "It's Penelope' away from the receiver. "Whatever. I'll be at your house later for our band sleepover."

"I love you, too, Ange," he responded. "And you look beautiful, as always."

I smiled, feeling much better. "Thanks, Jess." Hanging up the phone, I changed into my own clothes and exited the dressing room.

Bianca smirked at me when I joined her at the check-out counter. "You're a bigger attention whore than Pete Wentz," she accused.

I gasped in offence. "Oh, I see how it is. No pictures of half-naked Ryan Ross for you, Bianca!" I strode out of the store as she made a loud, girly noise, but couldn't chase after me because the checker was being slow. I smirked and threw myself onto a bench. What are friends for? I thought sardonically.