HELLO CHILDREN.

I was working on this like, last year, and I found it in the huge pile of files I call my writing today. I edited and added and I think this can become something :]

Enjoy Lovelies.

I squirmed uncomfortably as Carly's flat iron came dangerously close to my scalp. It didn't touch it though, and she continued down the scraggly bushes known as my hair. She took such a while straightening my hair, I was sure I was gunna be a brunette by the end. I didn't really get why she was gussying me up so early, since my "epic date" started at 7:00pm and it was currently 5pm. But since she was almost giving birth over this, I let her have her way.

Once again, she placed the flat iron way to close to my scalp, and I almost fell off the chair. Carly completely stopped and placed her hand on her hip. She glared at me through the mirror. Half of my hair was smooth, sleek and super pretty, and half of it was... well... yeah. I still had on the sea-foam green facial Carly had caked onto my face to close up my pores or something. I ate the cucumbers that I was supposed to leave on, so I guess the pores around my eyes would be like black holes and my face would be as smooth as a bald guy's head. I had on this floral towel thing they put on you at salons. Carly had decked herself out in her "hair stylist outfit" to get herself in the mood. Her hair was up in a bun with a black stick going through and she had on her fake glasses. She had on a black apron with little tools in it, most of which she wouldn't ever need in life, let alone my hair. She had stuffed herself in little black skinny jeans and wedges, and stabbed large black hoops through her earlobes. I didn't understand why she had to go through all the effort, but she claimed it "motivated her", just like ribs motivated me.

"This isn't going to work if you keep jumping around." she hissed. I whipped around.

"You're trying to roast my damn scalp, Carls." I retorted, looking up from underneath my eyelids at her and stroking my hair defensively. Carly rolled her eyes and shifted, letting the god forsaken machine flop around in her hand. I eyed it carefully.

"You don't wait puffy roots, and then straight ends. You'd look like some sort of retard." Carly sighed, getting the flat iron ready to attack my hair again. I slowly looked up at her, kissed my hair, shut my eyes, and got ready for the excruciating pain surely coming my way.

After a few minutes, I figured since I hadn't died yet, I could probably relax my face, which was burning from muscular concentration. I opened my eyes and looked in the mirror again. Carly was basically done, she just needed to do another patch of bushiness. I looked at her through the mirror.

"So what else so you have to say about this date?" Carly didn't take her eyes from my head, which meant she was hiding some sort of look from me. She hesitated, then started talking.

"Oh, he's nice, you know." she mumbled vaguely, and started on my last piece of hair.

"That's what you've been saying the last 5 days, sweetie. I need detail, or I'm not going." I retorted tilting my head a little to correspond with Carly's ironing. She didn't answer. Instead, she finished my last patch of hair, set the iron down and glared at me.

"You will most definitely go on this date." she growled. I scoffed, and she put her hands on her hips.

"Dude, you haven't told me ANYTHING about this boy. The guy could be seven-hundred for all I know!" I yelled. Carly rolled her eyes and flopped on her bed tiredly.

"I don't know. He's really nice, and sweet, and cute and everything. He's really smart, like crazy smart." she said from her bed, unmoving. I was checking out my new hair as she spoke. It was completely straight, so it was way longer than it usually was. It was smooth and shiny. I ran my fingers through my hair, amazed that my hand didn't get stuck like last time. I was so fascinated by my new look I almost missed what Carly had said. But the keyword is almost, remember.

"Well... what does he look like?" I asked, swiveling around in my chair dramatically. She sat up and look at me, half admiring her work and half conversing.

"I mean... he's cute... like.. adorable cute, I guess... and he's smart, like crazy smart, dude." she basically repeated. I let my hand drop from my hand as realization dawned upon me. Slowly, I squinted at Carly, and she started to crawl away from me.

"Carly Shay, you set me up with a freaking geek." I said very calmly. She bit her index finger nail nervously and gained started to gain interest in her Arctic Monkeys poster, as if she never saw it before. I quickly stood up and was almost in tears as my assumption proved to be true.

"OH MY GOD." I yelled, about to leap on Carly. She put her hand up to stop me.

"He's not THAT bad, he's a change form your previous boyfriends. A WONDERFUL change, I might add." she added, all snarky. I put my hand on my hip and rolled my eyes.

"My boyfriends were fine, kid. What about Darren?" I retorted. She looked at me knowingly from over her faux glasses.

"He stole your TV, microwave and your mom's money stash and you never saw him again. I don't even think his name was Darren, hun." she said. I shrugged nonchalantly.

"Fine, Will."

"He had like like 8 other girlfriends." she reminded me. I rolled my eyes.

"Only seven." I said quietly. She threw up her hands at me.

"See, that's what I mean. All your boyfriends turn out to be douches." she concluded. I threw up my hand and jumped around.

"No, no, what about Chris? Remember? He bought me all kinds of crap, and he took me out all the time and treated me like a queen. REMEMBER?" I yelled at Carly. She was unimpressed.

"Yes. I also remember him calling you to bail him out of jail. For drug dealing, I might add." I bit my bottom lip softly and sat down quietly on the chair.

"Ok, so maybe I don't have so much luck with guys. But still, the last guy you set me up with tried to pluck his nose hairs with the restaurant fork. That beats stealing, cheating, drug dealing boyfriends ANY day." I retorted. Carly laughed and throw a tissue box at me. I dodge it and it landed silently on her pink shag rug.

"Whatever, ok? He seemed cool at first. But look, you'll love the kid. He's such a sweetie, TRUST me." she said, jumping up and spinning around like she was Cinderella or something. She grabbed my wrist and pulled me up. I almost fell over, but she grabbed me and led me into a slow dance to no music. I tried to rub my facial on her, so she ended up letting me go.

"It's time we get that thing off anyway." she pouted, and stalked off to her bathroom. I followed her into her bathroom. The walls and floor were completely black, and everything else was chrome. The toilet, sink, shower, rack, cabinet, everything. Even the tissue paper holder. Her sink had a sprayer for some reason, but I guess it was going to come in handy today. She grabbed my arm and shoved my face into the sink. She grabbed my hair with one hand and grasped it into a ponytail, and then sprayed lukewarm water in my face almost immediately. I saw the milky greenness of my facial coming off for about a second before I had to close my eyes. I inhaled the mixture below me. It smelled like green tea and the residue of the cucumbers I ate earlier.

Carly hummed a familiar tune above me and scrubbed the remainder of the facial cream from my face. She turned off the water, pulled me up, and instantly slapped a towel into my face. I wiped and patted my face dry while Carly put my hair into a ponytail. She then grabbed the towel from me, shoved me from the bathroom and plopped me back into the chair.

The next hour I endured consisted of tugging and shoving, poking and proding, squeezing and pushing, tightening and stuffing, slapping and smearing, patting and stroking, screaming and crying. The process of putting on makeup and clothes had never been so tumultuous for me until now. I stared into the mirror, sort of in a daze, while Carly lay exhausted on her bed.

i twisted the ends of my pin-straight hair on the end of my finger. The tips of my hair curved in at my mid-arm. My eyelids felt heavy from all the mascara and eyeliner applied, but it did bring attention to the brownness of my eyes. I blinked once or twice before scanning the light pink blush on my cheeks, and the pinkness-red hue of lip-stain on my mouth. The facial had made a huge difference on me, and my skin looked completely flawless. I had on Carly's shirt from Urban Outfitters, the shirt being white and ruffly with a zipper. I knew I had on her skintight black skinny jeans that could be either formal or casual, and her black heels with the white flower at the toes. My mouth hung open a bit as I reached forward and touched the mirror, as if the person behind it weren't even real. It was me, Sam. I didn't look like some wild animal anymore. Carly had transformed me into a real life barbie.

"You look like a deer in headlights." she suddenly said, sitting on the couch behind me. I turned to her, my mouth still slightly ajar. I didn't really know what to think. She smirked, satisfied and leaned back on the couch. She glanced over at the clock, which read 6:30pm. She suddenly jumped up, grabbed a black clutch from her bed and threw it to me. I caught it and before I knew it, we were flying down her stairs. She stopped in the living room and sat me down. She then ran back upstairs and within a few seconds she was back. She grabbed me, stood me up, and quickly sprayed a very strawberrish-smelling perfume on me. She gave me a once-over, and smiled in a satisfaction.

"You look perfect." she squealed. She grabbed my hands, which were painted in sparkles, and squeezed them.

"Why'd you do all this for one nerd?" I asked before she could say anything.

"I don't really know. You guys are like, complete opposites, but I just... I think it'll work. I really do." she said, gazing meaningfully into my eyes. She then proceeded to push me towards the front door.

"SPENCER!" she yelled, and before long he came from his room. He kind of stopped to stare at me, really confused, before Carly snapped him out of it.

"Be back in like five minutes." she barked at him before pulling me out of the house. I skipped getting on the elevator and onto the sidewalk, but when I finally focused back into reality, I was in a cab, towards whatever location Carly had given the driver. I quickly opened the clutch Carly had given me and sighed in relief when my phone, money and other helpful things were revealed. She even left a little note, folded into quarters. I opened it carefully.

The table number is 34. He's taller than you, has brown hair, greenish eyes, and that's basically all. You'll probably be back around 9, 10. Have fun! I love you, and give him a chance, please [:
-Carly

I folded the note back up and stuffed it into the clutch. I began to get nervous as the city sped by. Looking at my new reflection in the window, all the worries I should have felt the last 5 days started slamming into me. What if he totally hated each other? What if he thought I was ugly and annoying? What if he only wanted one thing? What if he was ugly and annoying? What if he was a damn serial killer? What if it gets awkward? My stomach churned uncomfortably. I'd never been the one to be shy and lacking conversation, but there was an endless amount of things that could have gone wrong. I glanced at my watch, it was only 6:53. I took a few deep breaths. I'm a seventeen year old girl, I can take meeting new people, going on dates. I can protect myself and I can make good decisions. I chuckled to myself, knowing damn well that I never make good decisions, and usually people find me… abrasive and… crude. I subconsciously licked my upper lip and tasted cherry. I sighed, knowing I would now be nearly chewing off my mouth at this date.

The cab finally slowed down in front of some trendy little restaurant I couldn't pronounce and could never afford to even glance at. I paid the driver and stepped out of the cab, almost falling backwards from the height of the heels. I watched the cab drive away before starting to walk into the restaurant.

As soon as the door opened, the sound of slow, sweet classical music filled the air. I sighed to myself, knowing now that they probably wouldn't be serving ribs or any kind of fried food. I cleared my throat and approached the maître d'. She was at least in her 70s, being that her tightly bunned hair was completely silver. She looked up at me and routinely smiled.

"Yes, mademoiselle?" she asked in a French accent. I chewed the inside of my lip, not really knowing how to respond properly but knowing I had to answer fast.

"Uhm, I'm- I'm meeting sometime at table 34?" I managed to squeak out. She nodded and walked off. I followed her. The atmosphere wasn't loud, but buzzed with conversation. Fake, superficial laughs - probably induced by some rich person's unfunny business jokes - occasionally rang through the air. All the voices had a tone of importance and superiority. It sickened me to be in such a space. Finally, the host arrived at the table and pulled out the chair for me. I sat down, put down the bag and then noticed that someone was sitting across from me.

He wasn't exactly a basketball player, but from where he was sitting, I could tell he was taller than me. He did indeed have brown hair, which was immaculately parted and combed, and greenish eyes, which were kinda enticing. He had on a black dress shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. The tie he had on was also black, and it looked like it was choking him. He was kind of staring at me, like he really wasn't expecting me to look the way I did. I raised my eyebrow.

"I know I'm ugly, no need to stare." I laughed. He blinked four times, then opened his mouth probably reassure me I looked beautiful or whatever. He probably did say something like that, but I was too busy staring at his 1970's creeper-with-a-van hair. I had a growing urge to just reach over and mess it up, so it could flop over his green eyes sexily. So in the middle of his sentence, I reached over the linen cloth of the prissy little table and just completely messed up his hair. I sat down and adjusted the bottom of my shirt as he stared at me, this time smiling slightly and squinting as if he were confused. I looked up.

"Sam. Sam Puckett." I said. He smiled wider.

"Freddy. Freddy Benson." he answered. I sighed.

"So, you don't think they have ribs here?" I asked desperately. Freddy looked at me strangely.

"Uhm, no, Sam Puckett, I doubt it." he chuckled. I scraped my fork over my plate to drown out the high-end prostitute next to me's endless squawking. Freddy winced.

"Then tonight's gonna be a long night for you, kid." I sighed, laying my face in my hands.