Peach // H.S.

One.

✣ ✣ ✣

"Cut the gas, Marisol. You're being a wet rag. Haven't you heard? The lead singer's a total babe. A Brit, too. Isn't that neat?"

Nothing but a groan.

"Come on, Mari. Please? For me?"

The only thing keeping you from declining yet again was the knowledge that Tawny wouldn't let you get away with saying no for what seemed like the hundredth time in a row.

You pause, tipping your head over to be able to stare at the door in case of a sudden intrusion. You'd get killed for this!

"Tawny, you know they'll go ape..."

Your words began to trail off as you ramble on, a sudden pop and crackle coming from the record player that's nestled into a tight corner on your desk.

"Give me a second, cat."

"You better hurry, I'm dying over here! I don't think you get it, this is the most important time of the year. And I'm gone the next time around, so you must hate me if you don't come with me!"

You sigh, shaking your head back and forth, which in turn sends your ratted hair flying around your face. What a drama queen! Of course, Tawny could have a good point. Her parents had decided to ship her off to upper New England, Maine, precisely, right before her final year of school. Bummer, huh?

Tawny knows best has been the motto between you two for as long as you can remember. She'd always been more experienced than you, both with boys and just life in general. But who would have been surprised? She was blessed with a rather large chest and the silkiest hair you'd seen on any living thing. Why should you question her word now, especially when it comes to her music taste?

Pushing the nagging thought to the back of your mind, you drop down the coiled pink phone onto your duvet, sliding off the edge of your bed before wandering over to flip your record to its B side.

Better.

A loud pop.

Crackling.

Finally, the music.

Better.

"Okay, Tawny. I'm back-"

You're cut off by an eager whine.

"Did you get an answer? Is it yes? Baby, please, say it's a yes!"

You snort, rolling your eyes at her tone before cautiously continuing your thought.

"Don't have a cow, alright? I'll go with you. On one condition, though."

You can only imagine how she's anticipating your response, she's probably got a half-smoked cigarette between her fingers as she twiddles the filter of it with her ruby red thumb nail.

"Yeah...?"

"You don't make a scene, as you always do."

Tawny had been notorious for making nothing less than a fool out of herself, which in turn, would drag you into it. The thrill of being the center of attention would take over, and the next thing you knew, you were dragging her out from under her pits after she had offered something - ahem - to a shy bystander. She would always admit to drinking more than she could handle, of course. But she was nothing short of a tomboy at times. A girl her size drinking beer? Hilarious.

"Okay. Fine, I guess. I'll give you an even better pitch, Mari. You won't even have to babysit me. I want to stay sober for this, I have a feeling I'll want to remember them. I mean, how often in our lives do you think we'll be able to talk with a European?"