Punks Don't Wear Prada

Danielle's house.

nine pm.

Trying to dry my tears with the black material that made up my shirt, I slipt out a sob.
No, I thought. I'm not going to let it get to me. He was a jerk; a horrible, mean, nasty jerk... Who was one of the best kissers I'd ever kissed -No! He doesn't deserve my tears. I can't let him have that, too. Even so, sobs still escaped my throat. I was parked outiside of my parents' house, trying to clear my head.
All this, and I still had to show my parents what I let Jared and Jane do.
I allowed myself one more sob before yanking my new bag from the passanger seat, then I headed towards my house. I could smell pasta drifting down the hall; they had already eaten.
I shut the large front door quietly before softly padding up the steps.

"Is that you, Danielle?" My father called over the t.v. They were watching Project Runway.

"Yes," I admitted, backtracking down the steps.
Before I entered the living room, I flipped my bull ring up, concealing it in my nostrils.

I saw the back of my dad's head; he had a coin-sized balding spot among the brown and gray. When did that get there?

I walked to his side and lightly pecked his cheek.

"Hi Daddy," I said in a soft voice.
I turned to my mother and did the same, only altering the 'hi Dad' to "Hello, Mother."
My mom patted my cheek with a cool hand, but, other then that, they didn't acknowledge me.

"Sit down and tell us about your day," My father said without taking his eyes off the t.v.
It wasn't commercial yet.

"It was g-"

"Shhh!" My mother said, glancing at me. Then she shrieked.

"What? Did you see -What the hell!" My father looked around, than glanced at me, too, before exclaiming.

"Oh, and I got a makeover," I muttered, fiddling with my shoelace.

"A makeover?! That's what you're calling this..this, this disaster?!" My mother interrogated me while looking be up and down with an expression of disgust.

"I'll only be like this for two weeks..." I said, slowly. Hopefully they won't ask me why.

"No, you won't be like this for two days," My mother started to laugh manically.
Since when has she been like this?

"Huh?" I turned to her so we were staring face to face.

"You're going back." She said, simply and shrugged, "You're just going back."

"Back where?" My brow furried; I had a pretty good idea of were 'back' was.

"To your old self." She stared pointedly at my father, silently asking for backup.
He just grunted and looked away from us.

That meant I was to be left alone.

She started to fume, "Dale, why can't you ever help me!?"

"This is silly, Anne." He explained.

"No, it's not silly," She exploded, " It's not silly at all! She's got a reputation to hold! A prom coming up! She has to win prom queen. She just has to!"

"Anne, I don't think you understand this. Maybe it's a cry for attention, or even a cry for help!"

"That's just it, huh! All you think about -all you care about- is Daddy's little angel! That's it!" She shrieked at him; she was now standing up and hovering over my father's lazy boy chair.

" Of course I care about her! She's are daughter for shit's sake!" He roared back, he too was standing up now. I was huddled in a corner of the couch. My parents have never fought like this before.

"It's always been like this. Everything's about her, -you don't even care about me!" She collapsed onto the ground; tears started to slip out of her eyes. My dad didn't bend to comfort her. Suddenly I realized that the subject had changed, that me, Danielle, wasn't the 'her' she was referring to.

I stood up, shoot a daring glance at my father, then ran to the door.

As if fire was chasing me, I hauled ass out of there.

I ran and ran until I couldn't run anymore.

My feet led me somewhere that only my body knew.

Then, like my mother, I collapsed.