Hey hey sorry in advance be this chapter is annoying bc each pov is so short but don't worry they'll be longer
alright here
is anybody actually reading
*crickets*
MASSIE
There are two shirts held in Massie's hands, one of them a purple silk Givenchy blouse and the other a lace cashmere Charlotte Russe tank top.
She has been standing in that same spot, clad only in her For All Mankind jeans and her black bra, for the past eight minutes.
180 seconds later, she slides the tank over her almost too-shiny brunette hair, and she wonders: do I look better than Alicia Rivera?
She still has yet to learn that, as long as she's wondering that question, the answer will never be yes.
ALICIA
Jolie, Alicia's personal stylist, removes the mask from her client's face. Then Jolie takes two fingers and flips the girl's freshly ombré'd hair. Although ombré dropped out of style a while ago, she is determined to bring the trend back. And she can make anything look stylish.
"Well?" Jolie prompts.
"I love it!" She twirls, her almost too-shiny locks swirling around her head. Then she air-kisses Jolie, who smiles back and disappears out the door.
That leaves her to pull on a pleated navy blue Marc Jacobs organza skirt and her new favorite shirt that she bought just yesterday: a lace cashmere Charlotte Russe tank top.
Quickly, she runs her daily check for any dark hairs on her arms, legs, or face. Finding none, she decides she's ready for school.
Little does she know that she and Massie Block are still too similar for their own good.
DYLAN
Dylan, on their other hand, is certainly not ready.
She eyes her new green Versace blouse. The fact that it's baggy is not accidental.
One of Dylan's recent nightmares Is the dreaded (at least for her) baby bump.
There's also no way can she get advice from her mom, considering Merri-Lee hadn't spoken to her youngest daughter since August seventh, three days after she found out she was pregnant.
(She's been keeping track.)
All because of a stupid party.
Oh, how she wishes her cousin Robin had not hosted that damn party.
How she wishes that the boy with the dark hair, and those flawless dark green eyes, had not been there.
Or how Dylan had not been there.
Padding into the bathroom, she picks up her pre-heated straightener and runs it through her unruly red locks. When she's about halfway done, she switches hands, and the hot clay plate slides along her index finger.
She promptly screams and drops the tool to the floor, where it hits with a clang, sizzles, and dies.
Beautiful.
KRISTEN
Kristen can't sleep, she can't breathe, and she certainly can't think.
She's gotten herself into such a state of panic ever since the doctor's appointment, convincing herself she had a huge flaw, that she was messed up, that she wasn't perfect.
Her real fatal flaw is that she has no self-confidence.
Standing in front of her mirror, she can point out three things that her wrong with her without even trying, and there are so many more that she can't even count them.
1.) The pimple by her nose that refuses to go away no matter how many times she smears it with her Stuart Rattle anti-acne cream.
2.) She's not anywhere near as skinny or busty as Allie-Rose Singer, who, by the way, is also her soccer nemesis and the only other person with a shot at varsity captain.
3.) She's crying.
Crying?
Why the hell is she crying?
Because she can't think, that's why.
Well, she can think, but not in any sort of comprehensible pattern. And the things that are understandable are the things she doesn't want to be thinking:mylifeisoverican'tbelieveihaveabraintumori'mgoingtofailallmyclasseswhyamitakinghonorsishouldbeabletooptoutconsi-deringihavefuckingcancerandi'mgoingtodiethereareallthesethingswrongwithmeishoulddieanywaygetmeoutofhere.
And the ever-so-pleasant screech of her mother informing her of the bus that is currently paused at her apartment isn't helping in the slightest.
She shakes herself and runs outside.
(Of course, she comes back in, having forgotten her backpack.)
(She blamed it on the brain tumor.)
CLAIRE
"Mom, can you help me?" Claire holds the necklace between her fingers, a small silver heart with a carved 'C&C' (not the designer) dangling in front of her neck.
Mrs. Lyons clips the necklace behind her daughter's neck and beams. "Is that the present Cam got for you?"
Her blush and smile are answer enough.
She runs her finger over the smooth surface of the heart and thinks how Cam is the only interesting, fun thing in her life.
But that is about to change. This year, she is determined to do something, be somebody.
By the end of June, Claire's baby-blue eyes won't look so innocent.
beta'd by Joy :)
wait what's going on with the font
wtf
gosh what did ffn do what just happened with the font
please ignore me im challenged
-chica
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