The next day, Abby and I left Annabelle's after a lunch of homemade spaghetti. I was feeling a little resentful. It felt like Abby and Annabelle were becoming closer because of the makeover, while I became more distant.
Next year is going to be our year, girls!
Would it really, though? Would a little bit of makeup and new clothes truly make the difference between next year and the three previous years? I didn't think so, but I also didn't want to voice my opinion to my friends. After all, they were both so excited about this, and who was I to spoil that happiness for them? Just because I was being forced out of my comfort zone didn't mean I had the right to try and make everyone else's lives miserable, too.
"You're awfully quiet today," Abby said from beside me as we made our way down to the sidewalk.
I shrugged. "I'm just really tired," I said, only half-lying. I was tired, since we'd stayed up until midnight last night, but also…I didn't have much to say anymore. I didn't dare bring up my worries with Abby.
"Oh," she said, also shrugging. "Well, what did you think about the makeover? I really like it, actually. I mean, I'm still not too crazy about the pink, but I think I could learn to get used to it."
Oh boy. What now? I paused, searching around for something to say that wouldn't be an outright lie. I hated directly lying to people, especially my friends or family. I had precious few of either category to be betraying their trust by lying.
"Well, it certainly is…interesting," I said at last, forcing a smile as she glanced at me.
"It is, isn't it?" Her eyes were sparkling as she processed all of the possibilities a new look could give her. This felt so…wrong, somehow. Abby was supposed to be the well-liked athletic girl that didn't care about other people or looking good. What had changed in such a limited amount of time?
Why exactly couldn't I get into this makeover thing? I supposed it would be nice to finally get some attention from boys. Well, okay, boys who did not have messy black hair and glasses and the mentality of a four year old on mind-altering drugs…
"FLOWER!"
Oh, dear. Speak of the devil. "Stop calling me that!" I shouted automatically. I had only told James Potter not to call me Flower about a hundred million times since the first year, but the stupid twat did not seem to be capable of processing this.
"Are you girls leaving so soon?" Sirius called as Abby and I turned to see him and the one and only (thank whatever higher beings there might have been) James Potter come loping across the Potters' front lawn toward us.
"Why? Worried you won't have anyone else to prank now that I'm leaving?" I said, crossing my arms.
"No, actually," said James, grinning that stupid lopsided grin of his, "I wanted to show you my birthday present!"
"Is it your birthday today?" said Abby breathlessly, her cheeks once again pink, as they always were when in the presence of the Marauders.
James nodded enthusiastically, pulling something out from behind his back. It was a broomstick, and a rather expensive looking one at that. "My parents just gave it to me!"
"Let me get this straight," I said, clenching my fists at my side now. "You came running all the way down here to brag about your stupid new broom?"
Sirius and James both looked appalled that I would have the audacity to call a broomstick stupid, but before Sirius could say anything James said quickly, "Well actually, what I really wanted was to invite you to my party today."
"Really?" Abby asked excitedly. "What time—"
"Excuse me," I interrupted, "but what makes you think that I'd want to celebrate another whole year of your existence, Potter, when all you do is plague mine?"
James opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking remarkably like a fish. Beside him Sirius was fighting two emotions: amusement at my remark, and outrage that I'd be so mean to his best friend on his birthday.
"Did you honestly think I'd want to come to your stupid birthday party after you so childishly played that stupid prank on me yesterday? And all the ones for the days before that?"
"Actually, Evans," James said finally, regaining his composure, "I was only extending the invitation to Prewitt here."
"I'm sure you were," I said, rolling my eyes. "Well, we'd really better get going, Abby."
I turned around and began walking, but after a few steps I realized that Abby hadn't moved. She was still standing in front of the boys, staring at the sidewalk.
"Abby?" I inquired.
"Um…" she said awkwardly. "Well, if James's party is today, starting soon, I think I ought to stay here at Annabelle's, so we can get ready together. It makes sense, rather than going home for an hour just to come back again."
It felt as if I had just been punched in the stomach. She was abandoning me? For Potter? Could this really be happening?
"So you're not coming back with me?" I asked at last, my voice rather quiet all of a sudden.
She wouldn't look at me. "It wouldn't make sense, would it?"
Unbidden, tears of anger and hurt sprang into my eyes. "No, of course not. Walking home with one of your best friends doesn't make any sense at all, does it? I wouldn't want you to go out of your way for me or anything, so I guess I'll see you later."
"Lily, that's not what I mean and you know it," Abby called after me helplessly.
"Don't worry about it," I replied coolly. "It's not like I can't find my own way home. I would have liked to have a little company, but it's fine. Have fun. See you on the train."
I spun around, grabbed my bag from where I'd set it on the ground and started walking briskly away from the trio on the sidewalk. I had almost gotten to the end of the street when I heard someone jogging behind me.
"Evans, wait!" Ugh. It was only Potter. For a moment I thought it was Abby, coming to apologize and walk home with me, but no such luck.
"What do you want?" I asked him, annoyed, as he caught up to me. "Wasn't stealing my best friends enough for you?"
"I'm not trying to steal them from you," he said earnestly. "I'm sorry about that. I came to officially invite you to my birthday party, if you want to come, that is."
"News flash, Potter," I snapped. "I don't."
I took a certain amount of pride at the look of shock on his face. "Listen up, Potter. Despite what you and that stupid ego of yours believe, you are not the best thing to ever happen to women. Not every girl will just suddenly fall all over herself to be noticed by you, and I am one of the ones who won't. I personally believe that you are single-handedly the most annoying human being to ever be put on this planet."
He was doing the open-mouthed gape at me, again looking remarkably like a fish out of water. "I don't believe I'm the best thing to—"
"I'm not finished yet," I interrupted, putting a hand up to stop him. "In conclusion, it does not matter how many times you ask me out, or how many immature pranks you pull on me, or even how much money you offer me, I will never, ever date you."
"Well, from where I'm standing, it doesn't look like you've got very many options," he responded coolly, his eyes frosting over.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked indignantly.
"Annabelle told me about the makeover," he said haughtily. "I also know why you'd want to do one. The whole school thinks you're little miss goody-two shoes. I'm the only boy who ever gives you a second glance, Evans. The rest of the male population—and a good majority of the females as well—regard you as the school bookworm."
It was my turn to stare at him. His words hurt me, but I wasn't about to admit this to him. I shrugged nonchalantly, as if I could care less. "I'm doing this makeover to make my friends happy, not because I care what people think of me."
"Well, it's your turn to listen to me, Lily Evans," James said dangerously, lowering his voice and reaching out to grab one of my wrists. Although I would never admit this, either, the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice scared me. I swallowed. "If I can't have you, nobody else will, either!"
I jerked my wrist out of his fingers and took a step away from him, glaring. "Oh, grow up, Potter! Do you really think a stupid threat like that is going to scare me or something?"
"You want me to grow up?" he asked, glaring full-heartedly back at me. "You're the one who refuses to be civil to me! I've tried so many times to be nice to you, but you just believe whatever the hell you want to. You don't care about people's feelings! You just walk all over them like they mean nothing. How mature is that, Evans? Huh?"
I turned around and left, ignoring him. My blood was boiling. How dare he? He was so…so…ugh. He was so infuriating he rendered me incapable of proper language skills. I stormed back toward my house, steaming.
Stupid Potter. Stupid Annabelle for telling Potter about the makeover, and stupid Abby for abandoning me for the enemies and giving into this stupid makeover.
I really ought to find a thesaurus, because that's a lot of times to use the word stupid. Note to self: increase the size of my vocabulary and find some new words to describe Potter in all of his horribleness. Another note to self: tell Annabelle and Abby off for their violation of the Best Friend's Handbook.
The final note to self: get rid of the guilty feeling in stomach caused by Potter's words and your own abandonment of your sick mother to hang out with a bunch of idiots.