Sweet Poison
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Fuller Summary: Nobody ever said being beautiful was easy, that I am sure of. Every movement is judged, every action scrutinized, every word picked apart. But we escape it all. Enter our world, where the boys are gorgeous and everyone wakes up in someone else's bed. New York City.
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My wool stockings itched as I looked at the overarching buildings up ahead. I took another breath, just as my therapist back home told me. It was uncharacteristically cold for early September. That or it was just me. It was 95° back home. Pain wrung my heart again, though I had stopped crying weeks ago. But seriously, what did you expect? Here I was, wearing pink butterfly clips for God's sake, with a five year old JanSport backpack, a trout in a sea of koi fish. That is if I had gills. But you can still see the metaphor. I took a tentative step up the marble steps, traipsing around the other girls, wearing the same uniform, except we were drastically different. Jewelled butterfly barrettes instead of plastic ones, and Prada bags instead of faded orange and blue backpacks. I finally reached the top step, where the big glass and metal door waited. I gave a tug, but it wouldn't give. I tugged again, this time harder. I heard tittering and I blushed red all the way to my scalp. I must've looked like a tomato. The girls giggling started texting, faster than I could see, or ever type. How did they do that? I saw snatches of conversation between phones, and discreetly peeked over the red-headed girl's shoulder. I saw 'pink+plastictrashy'. I frowned. Bitch. I heard a groan and a small cough. I saw the whole pack of them staring at me. The brunette-clearly the leader- glared at me condescendingly. She made a 'move along' gesture and rolled her eyes and stood up, the whole group of them turning and staring at me, accusations written all over their faces.
"The doors don't open until eight. Try to remember, m'kay?" She smiled falsely and the rest of them flounced-I really am not kidding you-away. Whoa, pms much?
"Don't mind them. They've got their heads up their asses." I turned to be greeted by a girl with dark blonde hair, with wild pink strips. She wore the regulation uniform, but on her it seemed more…bad-assy? Is that even a word? I looked her up and down.
"Oh." I squeaked out. Wow, was I from Suburbia or what? But she only smiled and lit up. She took a puff, then roll the cigarette between her fingers. She stuck out her very beskullringed- hand, waiting to shake.
"I'm Layne Abley." I took her hand, and felt the cold metal of the rings brush my palm.
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The doors finally opened at eight, when a man in black pants and pink dress-shirt unlocked it for me. I heard some girls titter behind their palms, and turned. It was those girls again, laughing. I hunched my shoulders and ducked into an alcove with a drinking fountain. I waited until they passed, pretending to take a drink, all the while watching them out of my peripheral vision. They walked in perfect step down the large white corridor, pausing to air kiss friends and chat. I walked along, hurrying past them as they talked to a girl whom I heard named Olivia. I finally found my destination, the Administration office. I opened the door, stopping in front of the secretary's office. She was a severe looking woman, sipping black coffee out of a Starbucks mug. I wonder if that's where she got her bitterness from. She looked up from her computer screen.
"May I help you?" she asked, as if I was imposing in whatever she was formerly engaged in. I swallowed.
"Hi. Um… I'm Claire Lyons; I have meeting with a Miss…Adeel? The secretary put on a pair of reading glasses and typed into her keyboard. After a small 'ping' she rolled her chair to face me.
"She'll see you in a minute," she rolled and grabbed a piece of paper from a printer. "Here's your schedule, locker assignment and combination." she turned back to her computer, our time obviously up. I turned around the lobby, the only sound coming from the filter in a fish tank. I strode across the room to the appropriate office. I turned the knob. I saw a small stout cheery woman behind a desk. Funny, I was expecting the Spanish Inquisition. I cleared my throat. She looked up and smiled cheerily at me.
"Oh hello," she began, still smiling. "You must be Claire. Take a seat." she gestured towards a plush easy chair. Dropping my backpack on the floor, I crossed my legs, trying to look like a professional. I looked around her office. It was very open , with two windows behind her desk, letting in a lot of light. Posters about emotional well being hung in odd places, and a vase of carnations was placed next to a clear crystal bowl of Hershey's Kisses on her desk.
"So," she began "I'm the guidance counselor, Miss Adeel. You can call me Brenda, everybody does.
"Claire, you're new here, and I want you to know Octavian Day High is like a family, so don't be afraid to talk to us about anything that's on your mind. We'll always listen.
"We pride ourselves on indivualism here at Octavian Day, but we do have a few rules." she paused for a moment and unwrapped a piece of candy.
"If you miss two classes without a proper excuse-excluding sickness or injuries of course- in a row, it will be considered as 'hooky' and you will receive detention. Second, bring an iPod or cell phone into school, it will be confiscated unless you have direct permission by a teacher to use it. The rest are obvious, no drinking, no drugs, no weapons, no smoking anywhere on campus. Break any of those rules and you can receive suspension or indefinite expulsion. Do you understand this Claire?" I immediately nodded my head enthusiastically.
"Good. Now, you do get a free period, but do not abuse this privilege or it will be taken away. Any student with a failing grade of a D- or lower will have their free period replaced wit a supervised study hall. So keep your grades up, don't back your teacher, and we'll be all good." She smiled at me. She really was nice after all. I stood up to go. It was eight-fifteen. I had first period. Brenda stood as well and we shook hands.
"Welcome to Octavian Day High School Miss Lyons."
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"So…what kind of party is this again?" I asked, as Layne flung her black Rolling Stones back into a corner. I was actually on my back. During the course of the day, I had successfully avoided Massie's 'Pretty Committee' all day. I had even scored an invite to a party via Layne during Algebra II. Yep, so far, sophomore year at ODH was going well. On her ceiling, Layne had posted concert memorabilia and posters onto every available inch. Classic bands like the Beatles stood next to bands I, a suburban girl, had never heard of. Like The Cure, Moral Hazard, and Madness. Though I did obviously recognized Queen and Jimi Hendrix. Nobody could miss Freddy, not even me. I rolled on my stomach until I faced Layne, who was scouting her closet for clothing.
"You could say it's a raver. I'm sure some chicks from school'l come. Hope the guys come. Otherwise, there's almost no point."
"Why's that?" I snatched up a piece of Bubblicious from her nightstand. The sour taste crippled me. I sat on her plain white bed, looking at her toss options at me. She turned and gave me a 'duh' look.
"Cause there's no other reason for me to have be around those asshats from our school for more than a few hours more than I have too." I laughed at this. Layne finally pulled out a shockingly yellow tube dress, and promptly flung it on her white bedspread. She pulled out a thick orange belt, yellow knee highs, and an equally bright pair of high heeled pumps. I only laughed at her selections. She looked at me, as she unbuttoned her school oxford.
"What?" she asked me. I looked at her, a smile playing at my lips.
"You're gonna look like a fucking highlighter." I advised giggling. She raised eyebrows, but she still smiled at me.
"At least I'll stand out."
"This is true," I mused ruefully. I looked at her rather expansive closet, with all her clothes sorted by color content. She turned and pulled on her stockings, and looked at me.
"So, what're you gonna wear?" she interrogated. I grimaced. I hadn't actually though of that. After school I had just called my mom and dad to tell them I was going to hang out at Layne's than after we do the ridiculous amount of homework we already had, watch movies. I had been told to be back by curfew, midnight. It was already seven now, and I was still in uniform.
"There's a flaw," I replied. "I've got no clothes." Layne looked at me dubiously.
"Like Hell you don't," she snorted 'Borrow mine. God knows I got scads of them." She waved me away, giving me a golden key to couture paradise. I was as giddy as a kid in a candy store. I tore into Layne's collection. I settled on a little robin's egg blue number with red beads. It was flashy enough without looking trashy. But Layne insisted I wear tights before I looked like 'Pam Anderson sans the boobs.' I almost died laughing, even it was to my expense. So, on with the tights I went. After hailing a cab, we drove down a series of tall glamorous skyscraping apartment buildings. I, of course, ogled them like a tourist. We stopped in front of one of the taller buildings. The doorman held it for us with a nod.
"This is where they're having a rager?" I asked, confused. Layne giggled and called for an elevator
"Looks can be deceiving."
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And they were. The party was in full swing when we got there. Couples were grinding in the expansive front room, with other people chatting to the side with mystery red cups. I was pushed and shoved and almost fell into a preppy brunette. I swear I'm going to fall over. I looked at Layne who was chatting with two twin-like girls. She motioned for me to come over.
"This is Meena!" she shouted over the bass. "And this is Heather!" she pointed to the other. They waved.
"Hi," they chorused. I returned the favor. Layne grabbed my arm
"I'm gonna go grab a drink." she muttered into my ear, and took off, weaving between people.
"Layne!" I shouted, lost. Meena and Heather were already talking to a skater guy, and I turned, colliding with a guy, spilling his drink on his shirt.
"Shit!" he cursed.
"Oh God, I'm sorry!" I apologized, trying help. I looked at him, he had wavy blonde hair and his eyes were blue…and green. I stared at him.
"Um, it's okay y'know. It' s no biggie." I broke eye contact with him and reddened, which I hoped he couldn't see.
"I'm Cam." he introduced himself.
"Claire." I replied. He tossed his cup away.
"Wanna dance?" he asked idly. Suddenly, a sharp jab in the elbows alerted me of someone's presence. Layne carried two cups and handed me one.
"Drink up." she commanded. I did, and almost gagged. I sputtered and choked on the foul beer.
"That's disgusting!" I shouted at her. Cam threw his head back and laughed. "I told Kemp not to buy the shitty beer!" he laughed. Disgusted, I put the cup on a nearby table.
"Wanna dance?" he asked again. I nodded. Layne was gone, but I took his hand and we took to the 'floor'. Two guys stood at the makeshift DJ booth, sifting through records. Cam put his hands on my waist, and I threw my arms in the air.
"so, where ya from?!" I heard him yell.
"Orlando!" I yelled back, pulsating with the beat of the rap music.
"Where in Orlando?!" he shot back.
"Lake Buena Vista! In a small place called Winter Park! Very suburban!" I shouted.
"Sounds cool! I'm not from New York originally either!" he cried.
"Where 'ya from?!" I asked, my voice beginning to get hoarse.
"I'm from Arlington Virginia! My dad got a transfer about a year ago!" The music gave way to a slower number, but people still kept at the moshiness of their pit. I felt my phone ring, in the pocket of my dress. It was my mom.
"I have to take this. Sorry!" I apologized. I left him looking confused as ever. I weaved around people kissing and dancing, finally finding a bathroom. Two people were making out in the bathtub, but I ignored them. I flipped open my Razr.
"Hello?"
"Honey, it's mom. Listen, I think you should be getting home soon. It is a school night. It's already eleven thirty." Fuck, was it already that late? How long had that cab ride been?
"Um, okay mom. I'll get a cab." I acquiesced.
"Good. But, honey, is that…rap music I hear?" Shit! I had to think fast.
"Uh, we're watching Fast and Furious." I lied.
"Oh, okay. Well, get home safely, okay?"
"I will." I shut off my phone and sighed. I left the bathroom and searched for Layne. I saw her kissing a boy I didn't recognize.
"Layne?" I tapped her on the shoulder blade. She turned, her breath reeking of booze.
"Oh Claiiirrreeeee," She slurred. "I thought you were dancing with your boyfrieennddd!" I realized she was totally trashed.
"What? No! Layne, I need to borrow some cash. I gotta go home." Layne looked at me with her huge eyes.
"Oh, yeahh, sure. That's what friends do, 'cuase we're friends! Ha!" she grabbed my wrist and whispered in my ear. "Don't get eaten alive by sharks, my little fish." She gave me two twenties. "G'bye fish." she called as I left.
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I got home at eleven forty-five. Mom had left the door unlocked for me. I carefully folded up my borrowed clothes and put them under my bed, where I knew my mom wouldn't look. I retreated into my bed, and sighed at the dark ceiling. New York sure looked like it was shaping up to be interesting…
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Disc.: I own nothing you recognize.