"(Y/N), hurry up in there! We're going to be late on the first day of school!" Sam calls through the bathroom door.
"I can't!" I answer back.
"Why not?" my brother's voice is laced with slight concern.
I hear the motel bedroom door open and Dean's deeper voice. "Is she still not out yet?" Then, "is everything alright in there, (Y/N)?"
"No," I answer back miserably. I stare into the mirror with loathing. Why me? Why does this have to happen to me now? My brothers are still trying to coax me out. I know this isn't fair to them, especially not to Sam, who has been more excited than usual for this school year. Perhaps because he will be starting junior high this year.
Cracking the door open a smudge, I peek out. "I...I don't think I'll go to school today," I squeak.
Dean cracks the door open further and takes hold of my arm. "What is wrong?" His eyes trail over my frame, checking to see that everything is intact. His eyes settle on mine in puzzlement.
Tears swelling in my (E/C) eyes, I wail, "I have a pimple on my forehead!" Both boys' eyes immediately go to my brow. The horrible, ugly thing is the size of Madagascar. My bangs can't hide it, it hurts way to much to attempt to pop, and I absolutely cannot begin my seventh grade year looking like this!
"That's it? A zit? Here, I have some cream you can put on it," Dean sighs and rummages through his duffle. "And then cover it with this," he hands me another jar. Taking them I lock the door again.
Five minutes later I step out once more. They look up at me. "Can you see it?" I ask timidly.
"No, you look fine," Sam answers.
"Thanks for the concealer, Dean," I smile weakly at my older brother.
He wraps an arm around my shoulders as the three of us head into the brisk morning. "Sure thing, kiddo."
Sam stares at him with head slightly tilted."Dean, you wear makeup?"
"No, I do not."
"But then why do you have concealer?"
"Shut up, Sammy."