Sunday
In Angelica's eyes, the mall was about the only decent thing to do around here. In high school, the mall was her life. The mall, and parties and football games. Now she was back, a year after graduation, thinking that things would be exactly the same. So when she called up Liz and Ashlee to go shopping with her, she was surprised to find that Liz had gotten an apartment in L.A. and had landed a modeling gig over the summer. Ashlee was in town but wanted to spend as much time as possible with her new boyfriend. Frustrated, Angelica called Nikki, who apparently was in Hawaii with Tracey Wilkerson, whom, as Angelica reminded her, Nikki had previously vouched as a "horrid cow". But Nikki insisted that Tracey had changed and that she and Nikki were best friends now.
"I'm sure it doesn't have anything to do with the fact that her dad is CEO of Wilkerson Industries and undoubtedly financed your little trip to Hawaii." spat Angelica while trying on a pair of Manolos.
"Oh Angelica! You're just jealous!" Click.
"Ughhh!" Angelica threw her cell into her bag violently. She was angry because Nikki was right; she was jealous. She was angry because her so-called friends had all deserted her. And she was angry because these incompetent people didn't have these red stilettos in her size.
"Hello!" she yelled at the portly salesman. "Could I possibly get some service here? I need these—" She shoved the box into his arms—"In seven and a half. Think you can handle that?" His pudgy face contorted but he nodded and left with the box. Angelica sighed and leaned back in the chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. She had been angry a lot lately. She thought it was stress and that it would go away when she came home for the summer. But it wasn't stress. It was all that loneliness building up inside of her.
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"Tommy, I don't think this is such a good idea."
"Somehow, I knew you'd say that." Tommy fell back on his bed in frustration.
"Yeah, well, you know I'm right." Chuck Finster ran a hand through his messy red-orange hair and sighed. "I just know something will go wrong."
Tommy reached down into the mess covering his floor and pulled from the clutter a magazine. "Yeah, but you know what I always say—it's not a party if something doesn't go wrong."
"Yeah, you would say that." Chuck slipped two fingers beneath the black frames of his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "But I'd rather you not throw me a party, really."
Tommy flipped though the magazine. "Oh, come on, Chuck. You're graduating! You're gonna go off to college and leave us all behind, never think twice about us."
"Oh, that's not true."
"Well, in any case, we probably won't see you 'till Christmas. We gotta see you off in style. My parents are gonna be gone for a week! We can have a party every night."
"I just don't think—"
"It'll be so awesome. Phil's gonna get the keg—"
"I'm not sure—"
"And the girls are gonna love you, college guy."
"I—girls?" Chuck grinned at the thought but quickly snapped back to reality. "Rigghhht. Tom, I'm not you. Girls don't fall over themselves trying to get to me. And I just have this bad feeling that something's gonna go down, I'd just rather not—" He stopped mid-sentence. "You're so not listening to me. I'm trying to tell you why I don't want a party and you're too absorbed in your—" he snatched the magazine from his friend's hands—"Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition to pay attention."
Tommy rolled his eyes. "Chuck, you're my best friend, but sometimes you drive me up the wall with your anal retentiveness. You need this party. You need to loosen up. Have a few drinks. Maybe meet a nice girl."
"Right." Chuck stood up. "I just—"
"—Don't think it's a good idea." mimicked Tommy. He sighed. "Fine. No party."
"Good." Chuck made his way to the door.
"Chuck?"
"Hmm?"
"My magazine?"
"Oh. Yeah. Well, I think I'm gonna borrow this."
"Dude…I'm telling you, you need to get laaaiiiiid!"