Chapter Six - Vanity Affair

The rain was getting harder and harder and I was sick of it. I was practically drenched had it not been for the flimsy protection of Lana's orange and red flowered Macy's umbrella. I suddenly missed Grams' giant Hagrid-sized umbrella. I was getting depressed thinking about it.

Marissa opened the door to her home. She saw me and smiled. "Ohey! Wasn't expecting you to be here."

Ohey, I wasn't expecting me to be here either.

"Just let me in." I groaned. "We need to talk." the Macy's umbrella flipped up and rain drenched me from every each side. Wah wah my life sucks, I'm being rained on and I am in a completely different world from the real one. Give me some cyanide pills and let's make this quick and easy. Sarcasm.

Marisa let me in and I took off the flimsy blue North Face I had found in "my" closet at home and the stupid Casey-eye-colored Ugg boots.

Stupid shoes. Why do you have to go remind me of Casey-who-I-will-never-have every time I see you! Argh. Last thing on my nonexistent to-do list is Suicide.

Sammy's Nonexistent To-do List:

-Try to get Marissa to believe me and help me

-Try to get Casey to also remember and help me

-Report this all to Hudson

-Get back to regular life

-If all else fails, KILL MYSELF.

Okay so I'm being overdramatic. So what? Because you know what, if 13-year-old Juliet Capulet can be overdramatic because her 15-year-old "love of her life" is supposedly dead, and kill herself because of it, then so can I. And Juliet claimed she "loved" Romeo even though she met him at a masquerade party where she barely knew him and the first thing they ever did was make out in a corner and then later confess their love to each other at a balcony that same night. How cheap and lame is that? And sure, I was 13 when I met Casey but it took us a while to get to the stage where we "love" each other. But now he doesn't even remember it.

"You okay Sammy? You seem out of it."

EVERYONE NEEDS TO STOP ASKING ME THAT! "Yes, I'm okay. And I really have something to tell you."

"Okay, so tell me."

Silence.

"'!"

She blinked. Then she cracked up. "Talk slower, Sam," she said. "I couldn't understand a word you were saying."

So I told he everything. From how we met to the wish I made to how everything changed."

She blinked when I finished. "Sammy. Um. Casey was never your boyfriend."

"IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY AFTER THAT WHOLE EXPLANATION!" I freaked on her.

She raised her hands up in panic. "No! No! It's just...your 'real' life you were describing to me was...just...different. Like, Heather is one of our best friends! How can she be our enemy in this 'real' life? It all makes no sense."

Oh. My. God. I think I am going to throw up. Dry heave. Melt away into a puddle of tears, blood, puke, and guts.

Okay, sorry about the disgusting mental picture. But still. I want to just...

"Marissa... Please." I started crying. "You're the only one who...please believe me..."

"I think you're on drugs." she finally stated. "And I am going to tell your mom unless you leave right now and fix your problems yourself. Don't. Do. Drugs."

I stared at her. Drugs? Really? That was a new one. "I'm not on—"

"Get out of my house!" she pointed to the door. "I have a reputation to maintain, Sammy, we are part of the most coveted clique in the whole school. Every girl wants to be us and every boy wants us! And if you're going to turn all Stoner-Girl-With-Emo-Problems on us, we can't have you! Get out! Fix your own issues and maybe we won't have to kick you out!"

So this is how life was as a "popular" girl. They can decide to "kick you out" any time of the day?

This is BS! Completely!

"You can't do that!" I gasped. "I'm your best friend. You'd just *dump* me because you think I'm ruining your reputation?"

She blinked. "Best friends don't ruin each other's reps. And if you get in the way of me and my Status, then yes, you're gone."

"Fine!" I screamed like a psychotic bitch. "KICK ME OUT!" I was sick of this. "Where is Heather? And Tenille? And Monet? Tell them you've kicked me out. Tell them—"

"You're not kicked out yet! STOP IT! Stop being a freak!" she was on the verge of crying. "Sammy!" I heard a hint of Old-Marissa in her voice.

"Marissa?"

"Get out of my house." she was back to New-Snobby-Marissa.

I grabbed my coats and boots and went outside without even putting them on. I sat on her porch and put them on and then began trudging my way home.

I passed my Heather's house. I remember Casey telling me his parents were together again. So if Heather lived here it meant Casey did too. This was my only hope.

Okay, I know I keep saying "this is my only hope" but I'm desperate. I keep needing new "only hopes".

I rang the doorbell despite the fact that I was soaked every inch of my clothing and body.

Heather answered the door. When she saw me she cracked up. "Sammy!" she laughed. "Get in! You need new clothes! Where is your umbrella? Sometimes you are too funny."

I entered her house. "Marissa is not in a good mood."

"Figures. She's probably on PMS."

I rolled my eyes as I followed her to her room. We passed by a room with the door wide open. It looked like a guy's room! Casey's room! It had to be!

I headed inside Heather's room and she rummaged her closet in search of clothes for me. Meanwhile I plotted ways in my mind on how to confront Casey and have the perfect words and pose and gestures and comebacks and explanations ever to win him over and have him remember/believe me. But suddenly he walked into room and I was still in my drenched skinny jeans and shirt that was sticking to every inch of my skin, and all my plotting went down the drain.

EPIC FAIL, went my mind.

"Oh my god," went my mouth.

Casey stared at me. "So you ARE her friend?"

Heather turned around. "Jesus, Casey, at least knock!"

"The door was open." he snapped back.

Heather threw me a pair of Pink shorts and an Abercrombie hoodie. Did she eve shop anywhere else? Ugh.

"Why are you wet?" he asked me.

"Because you're a jerk." I snapped back. That made no sense, but I wanted to say it.

"Hey, it's not my fault you're soaking wet and I'm not."

"You're a jerk." I repeated. I poured, "You didn't believe me."

"You stalk me!"

"I DON'T!"

"You stalk me and daydream about me as your boyfriend in your imaginative reality world or whatever."

"Get over yourself." I scoffed. Why was New-Casey such a jerk? Old-Casey was so not like this.

Casey smirked and stalked off. "Why should I deny what's true?"

Ugh. I hated seeing him like this. I hated it, hated it, hated it. I wanted to get up and smack him. Tell him he's better than that. Better than being a jerk. It's not him. But Heater was here and if I tried to talk to him like that she'd be weirder out.

Ugh. Again.

Suddenly, like fate or whatever, her phone rang.

"It's Danny!" she squealed. She waved me off. "This might take a few minutes, why don't you go get something to eat downstairs?"

I agreed wholeheartedly knowing that this is my only chance of talking to Casey without him blowing me off. Thunder rumbled outside as I went down the hall. His door was closed. I didn't knock.

"HEY!" he snapped. He was on his bed, reading Sports Illustrated. "Why don't you knock? Jeez!"

I rolled my eyes. "Like it matters whether I knock or not." I placed my hand on the frame of his doorway. This was exactly how his real room looked like back in my real life.

"Please listen to me." I begged. "You have to."

"I'm NOT your boyfriend for the millionth time!" he snapped. "Leave me alone! Can't you see I'M NOT INTERESTED!" he yelled the last part. Loud. And clear. Clear enough to make it hurt. Maybe it wasn't the REAL Casey saying those words, but it was still him. Is this how we would've been if he had never met me? Would his jerk friends and sister and "girlfriend" get so stuck on him that he would eventually just evolve into one of them?

"NEITHER AM I!" I screamed back. It was a lie, but I was too upset to care. All I wanted was my old life back. Why had I made that dumb wish?

He was silent. "You're not?"

"I...please listen." I begged again. "This is not you. I met you two years ago at Taylor's New Year's party. And we were going out. But I made a dumb wish that changed history and now I'm stuck in this life and apparently you don't know me anymore. I was Heather's archenemy in my old life. I'm her BEST FRIEND here! My best friend is shallow and mean and not herself and now I think he likes her popularity more than me. And...and Seth likes me! WHY DOES HE LIKE ME? I HATE HIM!" I screamed the last part.

"Shhh!" Casey winced.

I stepped into the hall for a moment to make sure Heather wasn't eavesdropping. I heard her voice on the phone in her room, "...Oh my gosh, yeah, Danny! That would be so cool!..." a pause. Then over-exaggerated high-pitched laughter. "You are TOO funny, Danny!" and some more blabber.

I rolled my eyes and stepped back into Casey's room shutting the door behind me.

"She'll be a long time if she's on the phone with Danny." Casey pointed out. "Just tell me the whole story now and let's see how much more mental I think you are."

So I told him. Everything. I had told Hudson and Marissa. And now I was telling him. The three people who were the closest to me back in my old life.

After I was done, he whistled.

Déjà vu much!

Then he said, "Your story is so elaborate and well thought out that I actually believed it for a moment."

"And...?"

"And I realize my mistake. You're not mental. You're just a freaky stalker psycho who's obsessed with me and that girl Marissa and are trying to believe we loved you in some alternate reality. We're not falling for that. I've lived 15 years without being so stupid."

I smacked my forehead. "And what, you think I'm going to come kill you if you don't love me? Like the girl in The Roommate?"

He blinked. "Okay, get out of my room."

"I AM NOT A KILLER. And besides, you could probably take me down with one hand."

He grinned vainly, an expression I have never seen on him before. "I could, couldn't I?"

I sighed and hung my head. This was pathetic. Why was I even trying? It was never going to work. He was a jerk and super conceited and too thick-headed to get anything through his head. He was the complete opposite of the real Casey.

I peeked up at him. His smile (in this case it was more of a smirk) and his chocolatey brown eyes, the same brown hair with the reddish tint...the faint freckles.

I wanted to scream.

He was still Casey Acosta. Even if wasn't, he still was.