Marissa checked her hair in the mirror in her locker, then slammed the locker door shut just a little too violently. She smoothed down her denim jeans, straightening out her t-shirt, and began walking to class.
"Hey, Coop!" Summer called from the other end of the corridor, rushing to keep up with her in her 5-inch stilettos. "Wait up!" Marissa turned around, waiting impatiently.
"Sum, how long does it take you to change your t-shirt?" Marissa asked, beginning to walk again. "And why do you bring a spare t-shirt anyway?"
"Um, hello! Just had double P.E., I was like so sweaty, it just, ew." Summer replied quickly, looking over at Marissa. "Anyway, you can't talk! I don't remember you wearing your Juicy Couture top this morning?" Summer smiled triumphantly. Marissa looked down at herself, and blushed.
"Yeah, well you know, have to keep up appearances." Marissa smiled slightly as she looked at Summer, and knew she was going to hit back with a witty response.
"Who are you? Paris Hilton?" Summer laughed as she walked through the door to the Science room. Marissa looked at her weirdly, then sat down immediately right at the back.
"And who are you? Slut of the century?" Marissa muttered underneath her breath and Summer sat down next to her, getting out her compact mirror. Summer looked up.
"Sorry? What was that?" She asked, grabbing her black mascara and reapplying it, looking in her purple compact mirror
"Oh, nothing, I was just thinking about something." Marissa flashed Summer a smile. Summer looked over, and put a hand on her shoulder.
"Hey, it's gonna be okay, you know that right?" Summer said in a quieter voice, pulling Marissa into a hug. She pulled back and looked her in the eye. "Right?" Marissa nodded, before withdrawing herself and folding her arms around herself, gazing vacantly into space. Summer looked at her friend, and sighed, knowing nothing she could say or do would make her feel any better. She thought of Seth, and Ryan and felt a small tear run down her cheek, smudging the mascara she had just applied.
-
Breathe. One, two, three, four. Breathe. One, two, three, four. Breathe. The tubes which were coming from his mouth stuck in his throat and he felt like gagging. The drip was stuck in his hand, and his body felt numb. Where the hell was he? Bright white lights glared in his eyes, and beeping sounded all around him, ringing in his ears. He looked across and saw his heart beat monitor, panicking. He tried to cry out, but no voice would come, and he tried to move, but he couldn't feel his feet. His breathing pattern became erratic, and the heart beat monitor moved abnormally faster. His tube was getting blocked up, his tonsils were killing him. He began to choke, choking on his own spit that had clogged up in his breathing tube. He grabbed into the bed rail, shaking the bed to attract attention. Help. . . HELP ME! He tried one last time to shout out, but he failed. Giving up, he felt the pain ease as his eyes slowly blacked out and his bruised eyelids drooped.
-