Picture Perfect

My name is Emily Johnson. I’m just an ordinary 17-year-old girl, who attends a normal school, and comes from a normal household. Everything about my life is completely normal. Nothing is abnormal; nothing is out of the ordinary. Those are the ways to say it, I guess. Because it’s true. That’s how I get it through to people. I’m just like everyone else. There’s nothing special about me. I may go to the hospital more than normal people because of physical injuries, and such like things, but, that’s not abnormal, is it? Why doesn’t anybody believe I’m fine, and that nothing’s wrong?

Okay, well, maybe we’re not completely normal.

“Emily,” my father called, “come downstairs, now.” I followed his orders. I knew what would happen if I disobeyed. He’d do what he normally did.

“Coming, Father!” I called down the stairs, as I climbed down them.

As I entered the room, I noticed several bottles of alcohol lying on the floor. By several, I mean, like, seven or eight. How could he not be going all Amy Winehouse? I knew my father should go to some sort of rehabilitation center. I knew it, he knew it, my mother knew it, the whole street knew it. My father had a slight drinking problem.

“Yes, Father?” I asked.

“Your friend, Melanie, wants to know if you want to go to her house this weekend, right?”

“Yes, she was asking the other day. That’s what I told mom.”

“Well, you can go if you want, but you know what’s waiting for you if you don’t come home on time.”

“Daddy, you know it’s a sleepover, right?”

“Yes, I know, and you can stay overnight. Just make sure your home the next day by dinner. Or else.”

“Yes, thank you, Daddy!” I exclaimed as I hugged my father tightly.

My father hugged me back, “Now go back to doing your homework.” Then he winked at me, for some odd reason.

As I did my homework for next week’s Monday (why was there homework for the last weeks of school?), I thought about all the people who would be there. I was thinking of ways I could hide my body, and keep to myself. I knew that Mel would make sure we’d all play “seven minutes in heaven.” She knew I hated that game, but she always made sure it was played at all of her parties, which I rarely attended, because I was rarely allowed to go. I knew that at the end of the night, most of the boys would go home, and all the girls would spend the night at Mel’s house. Then the next day, we’d all hang out together.

When I woke up on Saturday, I decided I’d have breakfast, take a shower, get dressed, do my hair, and do my makeup, not necessarily in that order. After my shower was complete, I made sure to make my hair acceptable. I decided to leave it down. I used a straightener on it, to make it smooth and shiny. Then I put on my makeup. I made sure that my makeup wasn’t too heavy, nor was it too light. I finished the makeup process by making sure any noticeable bruises were made un-noticeable with a special cover up my mom had found.

My dress was a gorgeous teal colored spaghetti-strapped dress. My shoes perfectly complemented my dress, which always worked, and I made sure my bag also matched, although it wasn’t an “it matches so much, it’s tacky” kind of thing. Then I grabbed my jacket — which also, not intentionally, just so happened to match my outfit — and left for Mel’s place. It was only about a 10 minute drive, but I left so I’d have about an hour till the party started. That was the intention, though, because I had to help Melanie set up everything. Not like her brother was going to help her, or anything. Not like I knew her brother that well, anyways, I’d only met him a couple of times, and not for long periods of time, as one of us always left. He’d come home, I’d leave, or I’d go over to his house, and he’d leave. It’s not like we talked at school, either.

“Emily, you’re here!” Melanie screamed when she opened the door after I’d rung the bell.

“Melanie! You look great!” I yelled back at her. It was a thing we did whenever we’d meet. Yelling at each other like that, it annoyed others, and we thought it was funny.

“Oh, my God, Emily! You look gorgeous yourself!”

“Thank you, Mel.”

After we got through that, we decided we should start to put up the decorations, she only had a few more to put up. It was kind of a “school is out for summer, let’s party!” party, so she only had about 10 balloons and 5 streamers left to put up. Everyone in our group absolutely loved balloons and, of course, bubbles. Who doesn’t love bubbles?

As we were putting up the last balloon, Mel suddenly informed me that her brother was also attending the party.

“Mel, you said that no ex-grade-twelves were coming!”

“Well, I meant that. Aside from my brother and a couple of his friends, that is,” she explained further.

“Why?” I asked in a whiny voice.

Melanie laughed, “Well, I didn’t exactly get my parents’ permission for this party.”

I understood immediately. Melanie’s brother, William, was blackmailing her into letting him stay for the party, kind of an after-grad party for the eleventh graders, and in exchange, he wouldn’t tell their parents about the party.

“But why does he want to come to your party?” I immediately asked.

She shrugged, “I have no clue.”

When we were done contemplating his reasons — perhaps a new conquest? — we decided to finish setting up. By the time we completed the preparations, the party was ready to be initiated. We just had to wait for the first guest to arrive, and then we’d be good. Where was the food? Oh, there it is, Mel just put it on the table. Hopefully nobody gets too drunk and breaks stuff.