My hands shook as I sat in the waiting room, wishing they would just call my damn name already. "Clarissa Fray?" I looked up at the lady holding the clipboard and stopped picking at a lose thread on my dress. "The judges are ready for you." I stood up and uncrossed my legs, the burgundy dress whispering across my knees. My mom had bought it from a store called Waldorf Designs and presented it to me that morning. My heels—which felt so foreign to me, making my feet hurt and made me almost a foot taller, at least that's what it seemed like-made sharp noises that bounced off of the wide, broad walls. I stopped in the middle of the well-lit stage, facing the panel of judges and the empty seats behind them.

"State your full name and age." A woman in the middle said, folding her hands together on top of her clip board.

"Clarissa Adele Fray, eighteen."

"You will be given a word and you are to draw whatever comes into you're mind. Your word is veins." I turned to the giant sketch pad that stood on the easel and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. It's just you. I told myself. They aren't even here. I picked up the lead stick and began to draw.

In the end, I had drawn a girl with curly hair sitting on a grassy hill, her back to the viewer as she stared at the fading sun. Lines raced across the ground and then wrapped around her legs and arms, twinning around them like vines. Each star had a lightning strike coming from it, stopping just above the girls head, and shoulders. The sky was dark with the departing sun's ruins. Stars started to show themselves but just barely, and the moon emerged the slightest, emerging from the side of an apple tree. I set the charcoal and lead and turned to the judges, my pulse pounding and my hands sweating but thankfully not visibly shaking. "What does your picture say that pertains to the word veins, Ms. Fray?"

"I think that our veins are what make us up, what we are made of, save for a few important things. In this picture you see that this is where the girl belongs, and it's grounding her. It makes her up. If she were to be placed anywhere else, she would not be herself."

But she's trying her hardest. I thought as I finished explaining.

"Very good, Ms. Fray. Your results will be mailed to you." The woman said, going to town on her clipboard. That was it? My whole future in just a few word exchanges and a picture? As the lady with the clipboard led me to the exit, I decided that it was.

As I stepped into the apartment and shut the door behind me, my mom looked up from her HGTV magazine. When she saw that it was me, she set it down and sat up straighter in her chair. "How did it go?"

"I don't know? Good? Bad? Horrifying? Those judges have the most expressionless faces in the history of faces."

My mom laughed and picked up her magazine again, shaking her head. "You'll be fine, Clary."

"Oh, really? How do you know?"

"I just do, miss attitude."

"If you say so. Is it okay with you if I go out tonight?"

"Yes, but be home by curfew."

Seeing my look, she laughed again. "I'm kidding. But try to be home before one."

"I'll try, but with all the one night stands I have planned..."

"You are horrible. Truly horrible."

"Love you too, mom." I walked to my room and shut the door, kicking off my shoes and collapsing on the bed. I felt like a creepy stalker girl always staring out the window at random people. I didn't know why, but it calmed me. Took my mind away from the fast pace of the city, even though they were all still rushing around. I sighed and rolled onto my back, pushing off of the bed and onto the wooden floor. I changed out of the dress and into shorts and an off-shoulder top. I wanted to dress for the occasion, but I also wanted to dress like myself. I put on lip gloss, some mascara and some eyeliner, which was a big effort on my scale. Throwing my phone and keys into my pocket, I went into the living room. Mom had fallen asleep in her chair again. I put a blanket over her, and then wrote her a note, placing it on top if her phone and left, closing the door quietly behind me.

I clutched the bright green flyer in my hand as I tried to navigate the busy streets. Come on, it was bound to be here somewhere—bingo. I got in line behind a group of punk kids, feeling out of place. "Hey." A kid with green dreads said. "Sweet hair. Where'd you get it done?"

"Gene central."

"Where?"

"Meaning it's natural."

"Nah, man. No way." He didn't have time to make fun of my hair anymore, because the line moved up.

"I.D." I gave the scary-looking bouncer my I.D. and walked into the club as he waved me in. All I could say was day-um. I could feel the vibrations of the music all through my bones, and pulsing light made the darkness outside non existent but still managed to keep it's own darkness inside of the club. I made my way over to the bar, leaning against it. I didn't have the level of courage needed to go onto the dance floor, not yet. "Hi." A voice said next to me. "Can I buy you a drink?"

I turned around and I swear, it would be a miracle of my mouth didn't fall off.