I find it amazing how vastly different humankind can be. I don't mean on the outside, hair, skin, eyes, that sort of thing. I mean in personality. Think about it...generally speaking, we are all the same. Ten fingers, ten toes, one heart, a brain... but we're so much more than that, and it makes me wonder how and why?

I mean, take two people, and set them side by side. Both blondes with blue eyes, both the same height, weight, and age. I bet any money those two girls are different as night and day. So, obviously looking the same has nothing to do with how you act.

Like in high school, there are so many different stereotypes. Good girls, bad girls, tough guys and wimps. What makes us so complex? So...different?

Let me guess. God has a special plan for us, right?

To be honest...I'm not sure I even believe in God anymore.

What kind of deity would give me a father off trying to make peace and a mother in rehab? Or a boyfriend who up and left me without even checking up on me?

And what kind of God would make such a selfish bitch as me?

"Ugh," I grunted aloud, giving up on my thoughts.

A girl can only take so much before she starts to get pissed off.

A female customer bent over the magazine rack looked up briefly, and I gave them a friendly smile.

A puzzled look was my reply, as they bent back down, looking at Brittney Spear's latest controversy or something.

Friday night.

8:45 pm.

I wanted out.

Seated behind the cash register with a notebook in front of me, I was waiting out the remaining minutes of my shift. Then I could close up, and go. Craig would be waiting in the parking lot, maybe with a Slurpee or something, and that was something to look forward to.

Sadly.

"Just so you know, ma'am," I spoke up, getting the woman's attention, "we'll be closing in ten minutes."

"Oh," the woman said, starred back down for a moment, then hastily pulled a few magazines out of the rack.

Approaching the counter, she shrugged sheepishly. "I didn't mean to take so long."

"No problem," I smiled, mentally rolling my eyes. "I don't mean to hurry you."

"It's alright," she said, digging through her purse as I rang up her magazines.

Teen People, Seventeen, YM...noticing a pattern?

"They're for my daughter," she explained. "She's at home sick, with the flu? I didn't know what to get her, to keep her entertained, so...I got them all."

"I'm sure they're her favorites," I smiled.

"She's around your age...what do you read?" the woman asked, looking slightly nervous as she pulled out her wallet.

"Uh, this one's my favorite," I picked up a magazine at random.

"Oh! Good," she beamed. "I hope she loves Jay-Z as much as you do!"

I let out a choked laugh. "Uh, me too. That'll be fifteen forty."

Mumbling as she counted out the money, the woman looked at me gratefully. "Thanks for the help!"

"No problem," I said, counting out her change and handing her the bag containing my "favorite" magazine. "Have a nice night."

"Oh, you, too," she replied, her step more lively as she left.

I made a gagging noise to myself at the woman's peppiness, then set about closing up shop.

Outside, a light rain was falling, leaving the air chilled. I shivered and wished I had put a thicker shirt on under my work shirt. Standing at the lighted entrance to the mall, I looked around for Craig's old pickup. Usually he was waiting at the curb, in park, music on low.

Today, nothing.

I checked my watch.

He hadn't been late before.

Maybe he'd forgotten?

Idly, my right hand came up to my left arm and sought out the cut I'd made last night, feeling for the slight bump under the skin, pressing down.

Where was he?

And why was I freaking out about it?

I opened my purse and began searching through it, looking for my cell phone.

Nothing.

Typically, the one night I actually need it, I leave it at home.

"Dammit!" I cursed, then picked up some change, turning around and heading for the pay phone.

My hands were shaking inexplicably as I lifted the receiver.

A honk from the parking lot startled me, and my coins dropped to the ground.

Turning around and abandoning the coins, I saw Craig pulling up, waving a hand from his window.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I jogged toward the truck, bag bouncing at my hip.

"About time," I said as I slid into the seat and shut the door. "I'm freezing!"

"Sorry," he shrugged, pulling away from the curb. "I got held up. You want the heat on?"

I nodded slightly, already forgiving him. He wasn't that late. It wasn't that cold. And besides, who cared? Right?

I reached over to turn up the volume some, the sounds of Fall Out Boy reaching my ears.

Smiling contentedly, I sat back in my seat.

Craig smirked and looked over at me.

We drove in silence for a few minutes.

In between tracks, Craig looked over. "So...there's this party tonight."

I glanced over, saw him watching the road. "Party, eh?"

"Yeah. At this guy's house... I dunno him really well, but he's a friend of a friend. That sorta thing," he said. "It's no big deal, but..."

"Is that your way of ditching me for dinner, or inviting me?" I asked, raising a brow.

He grinned. "Wanna come along?"

I paused for a second.

"What the hell."

"Great," he said, nodding.

"Just...not in this, okay?" I said, glancing down at my blue jeans and sneakers.

He laughed. At me!

The nerve.

Any high schooler knows there are a dozen kinds of parties. Lame parties, drinking parties, drug parties, hell, even sex parties. The only thing us teens don't seem to have, is Tupperware parties. Everything else is fair game.

When Craig mentioned it, I thought it'd be a small party, with beer and sex in the upstairs bedrooms, like the standard high school party.

Now, standing there in the kitchen while Craig got me a drink, I realized that it was some weird mix. Drinking, duh, and some kids were sitting in a semi-circle on the floor, passing a bong. In the living room off to the side, a couple were getting down and dirty on the couch, while some looked on, and still others mingled around it like it was normal.

Part of me wanted to cringe. The other wanted to laugh.

So they teamed up and figured, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

Craig handed me a beer, and leaned in close to be heard over the music. "Are you okay?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

He stood back. "Just that, I didn't know if you were used to this...uh...kinda thing."

His eyes were on the couple on the couch, slightly bemused, slightly put off. Obviously, he was used to it.

I shrugged. "Whatever."

How cool am I?

"Come on," he said, "let's go to the basement, there's less noise."

I shrugged, playing indifference again, and followed him down the narrow stairs, into a dark basement. It was quieter, if not musty, where maybe half a dozen kids where sprawled on two couches and easy chairs circling a coffee table covered in chips, ashtrays, bottles, and plastic cups.

"Craig!" a voice shouted, belonging to a blonde guy wearing no shirt.

Craig walked over and greeted the guy with one of those stupid handshakes boys do.

"Hey, man," he said. "Ellie, c'mere."

I walked over, taking a sip from my glass to hide my nervousness.

Okay, so maybe I wasn't exactly used to this.

"Elllie," the guy drug out. "Sup?"

I shrugged. "Hey."

He laughed, and Craig shook his head.

"El, this is Jon, my friend who knows the friend...or whatever," Craig said, nodding to the kid.

I nodded back, my apathetic punk girl facade slipping into place.

"So, it's my birthday," Jon said out of the blue. "Got me a present?"

Craig laughed, and nodded. "Yeah."

"Coool," Jon drug out. "Gimme?"

Craig dug into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag.

I shouldn't have been shocked, after seeing him at the rave that night, I knew he was stoned. I guess I just...forgot?

Yeah, I know, lame excuse.

"So, it's good?" Jon asked, looking up with bleary eyes.

Craig shrugged. "Haven't tried it. Heard it was, but you know..."

"Come try it with us!" Jon said, barreling over to the couch and planting himself next to a girl who looked half dead.

Craig looked at me hesitantly.

Gee, how sweet, thanks for worrying.

I pushed past him, because I'm just that cool, not nervous at all, I do this all the time, and Sat on the other couch, empty save one boy on the end, looking fidgety.

Craig sat next to me after a moment, leaning in to whisper, "You don't mind?"

I rolled my eyes, looked at him. "I'm not Ash."

He sat back as if the comment stung. "Right. That's right."

He smiled to let me know it was okay, and I wanted to slap him, because it wasn't okay.

I watched Jon, for all his apparent clumsiness, rolling a joint tightly, and tried to pretend I did this all the time.

Wonderful that I pick now to start trying to fit in.

I totally suck.

My hand went to my arm, tracing over the material of my wrist warmers.

Craig leaned in again. "You sure you wanna be here?"

I smirked in response, my gaze drawn back to Jon's hands.

Who knew such big fingers could be so delicate?

"Happy birthday to me," he said, holding up the finished product, and producing a lighter from his jeans.

Ever present Craig whispered, "Are you gonna...I mean...y'know?"

I shrugged, playing it cool.

Was I? I couldn't. Would I?

His breath hot on my ear, he continued, "Just inhale and hold it in as long as you can, okay? I mean, if you do."

I looked at him, my glare hard, as if to say 'I've done this before'.

He sat back, quiet, finally.

I watched the fidgety boy take a long pull, watched as he passed it to Craig, who took a deep drag, holding it in, then passing it back to Jon -

who refused it.

"Hey, share with your girlfriend," he said, shaking his head. "Don't be rude, man."

"Maybe she doesn't want it," Craig said after exhaling, and I thought for a moment how sweet it was for him to say that.

Then I saw Jon's red-eyed stare, and, shrugged, reaching out to take the joint from Craig's hands.

"Don't be rude," I smirked.

Jon and Fidgety Boy laughed, hard. Craig just watched me closely as I placed it to my lips.

The only thing going through my mind, was 'look like you do this, look like you do this'.

As I inhaled, my eyes watering at this foreign sensation, I thought how lame it was to want to be accepted, or to fit in, or whatever. Another part of me was disappointed, all the talks my mom and dad gave me running through my mind.

I held it in my lungs until I couldn't breathe, finally exhaling in a cloud of sweet smoke.

"There you go!" Jon said, sounding proud.

And I was proud that he was proud.

Lame.

I kept it up, taking a hit whenever the damn thing was passed my way, my mind getting more and more carried away every time.

I felt stupid, like a poser, like a fuckin' druggie.

But at the same time... I finally felt relaxed, and I thought, this isn't so bad.

I dunno what the big deal is. I barely feel anything.

I'm not laughing over lint or anything like in the movies or whatever.

I was disappointed in myself, but I didn't really care, at the same time, and that struck my as being the coolest thing, ever.

I sat there once the thing was finished, lost with my thoughts, so relaxed I thought I might melt off the couch, not even annoyed when Fidget started laughing at something stupid Jon's girlfriend said.

At least, that's who I thought she was.

Where had she come from?

Oh well, it wasn't like it mattered.

I don't know how much time had gone by when Craig finally stood up and told Jon we were gonna be leaving. Something about him having a good birthday, enjoying his present, but we had things to do.

Was it Chinese or pizza?

Craig waved a hand in front of my face, and I gave him a slow smile.

He laughed a little bit, then grabbed me by the elbow, helping me up.

"Come on, cutie," he said, practically dragging me outside to the car.

Did he call me cutie, or was that my imagination?

"Craiiiig," I whined once we got in the cold.

"What?" he asked, smiling at me as we climbed into the car.

"I'm cold," I said simply, crossing my legs. "Look, I'm almost fucking naked, no wonder."

I toyed with my fishnets, trying to form a hole in the...holes.

Well, that was pointless.

"Okay," he said, starting up the truck and cranking on the heat.

"What do you wanna do now?" I asked, getting onto my knees on the seat and looking through the collection of CD's.

"I'm hungry," he said. "Are you?"

I looked down at my stomach. "Yeah. Let's eat."

Bad Ellie, I thought as we drove away.

But you know what?

I didn't care.

And I liked it.