Rejects // Punk Luke Hemmings

>Chapter Eleven<

Friday rolled around, but Michael and I hardly talked. It wasn't that we didn't want to talk, but we didn't seem to know what to say.

I received several sneers and insults throughout the day. People apparently still thought I shouldn't be here. They thought I should go back to the States. Or better, kill myself. I just ignored them, walking past coldly.

The school day proceeded as usual and I drove home afterward. The weekend was far too short, and but the next few days went by without a hitch. I just seemed to float through that week, unaware of the happenings of school. My head was stuck in a haze of silence and smoke, and no matter how hard I tried to shake off the cloud it simply reformed a moment later.

Finally, at lunch on Friday Michael struck up a conversation.

"So, Kara. Um, I was wondering if you wanted to come over tonight. I'm having a party, and I think you'd have fun. Some of my older friends are coming and they're pretty cool people. It's kinda an open invite thing, so anyone can come. But I just figure I'd invite you anyway," he shrugged and looked at his food intently.

"Sure. What time is it at?" I asked and looked up at him.

"It starts at seven-ish, but won't actually get fun till probably eight. You can come over whenever though."

"Should I wear something dressy, or casual or in the middle?"

"Whatever you wanna wear. Doesn't really matter. There'll probably be a lot of people though, so you should wear something you feel cute in." He winked playfully, making me laugh.

"Okay, cool," I nodded. "I'll be there."

"Awesome," he smiled as the bell rang for the next period. "Wanna sit together in art?" He fell in stride next to me a we both made our way to art class. We hadn't been sitting together for the entire week, our friendship barely there.

"I'd like that," I smiled. The rest of the day went by slowly as I counted the minutes until the party.

When I got home, I trudged up the stairs and to my room, thinking of what I could wear. I rummaged through my closet, searching for something cute enough to impress Michael's older friends.

I tried on outfit after outfit, dress after dress, and collapsed on my bed in frustration. I glared at the clothes hanging on the rack, wishing I could make cuter clothes magically appear.

That's when I noticed a dress bag hanging in the farthest back corner of my closet. I hadn't seen it before, but I got up and went to see what it was. I took it out, unzipping the opaque black bag, then gasped.

It was a light grey dress with a delicate black lace overlay. The front was modest with a fairly high neckline, but as I took it out to look at the back, I saw that the grey fabric plunged down to form a low back, while the black lace continued over where my back would be. It was beautiful.

I hurried to try it on, checking how it looked in the mirror. The dress was snug, emphasizing what curves I had, and hit my mid-thigh. I turned to look at the back and smiled. The dress covered enough that it wasn't inappropriate, but small enough that it looked sexy. I was going to drop jaws tonight.

I looked at the time, which read 5:36 pm. I still had a few hours, so I decided to actually do my hair and makeup.

I padded over to the bathroom off of my bedroom, pulling one of the large pallets off of a shelf on the wall. I'd never even opened it, on account of the fact that I hardly ever wore much on my face. But now I had a use for it. I popped it open to reveal an artists' array of colors, ranging from deep, rich purples, to fair pinks and yellows, to bright, vibrant greens and oranges, to smooth aquas and grays.