Rules of a Rebel

Chapter 7: No Social Events

Rule #24: No Social Events

We don't interact with rule-followers.

-()-

Imagine a crazy scientist trying to morph a gothic scarecrow and a stick of fluffy pink cotton candy into one giant object. Could you imagine what it would look like? Good.

Because that probably resembles what I look right now.

I shift my stance so that I'm viewing my dress from another angle. But no matter how the light hits me, I still look ridiculous. Last night, dying my dress pitch black seemed like a perfect idea, but now it only emphasizes the pinkness of my hair. In order to cover it up, I took a hideous sunhat from mom's closet.

It makes my appearance worse, but it draws attention away from my hair, which is all I can ask for right now.

"Peyton, hurry up, we don't have much time," Mom snaps, her nails a sickening shade of neon blue as she snaps for me to move. Mom's been furious at me ever since I dyed my dress pink.

"Coming," I say.

After throwing one last disgusted glare at my reflection, which mirrors my distaste, I storm outside.

I make it a point to slam Melody on the shoulder as I pass her in the hallway. She glares at me, but says nothing. It's a good feeling to know that my silent treatment has an effect on her.

Mom and dad join hands before heading towards the house together. Melody's the first one to reach the house, unsurprisingly and rings the doorbell with unneeded enthusiasm.

On the other hand, I take my own sweet time getting there. I've never notice how magnificent the lawns under the stars and dark sky. No, really, somehow the dim lights of the house make it look extra green. Why, I could just stand here, examining each little strand of grass forever and forever...

"For god's sake, Peyton, hurry up!" Mom calls.

Maybe some other time.

Surprising a groan, I trudge towards the Raine house, which is blasting fifties music and radiating the scent of dead animals for the barbecue. The door swings open just as I arrive at the front door.

"Welcome," Mr. Raine, complete with suspenders and a suit, booms. "I'm glad you were able to make it today."

The walk from next-door sure was adventurous, I think in my head.

His wife comes up to us and shakes our hands. Her pearly-white smile flatters when she sees me, but just by a bit. Mom shifts so that she's blocking me from view. I don't know why she even brought me here. It's clear I'm an embarrassment.

"Why don't we go outside?" Mr. Raine suggests after a bit of small talk.

We follow them to their huge backyard, where a crowd mingles around a crackling bonfire.

About every woman has hot red lipstick smeared across their lips. About every man wears the same bad-boy leather jacket as my father. They laugh and mingle around the grills, which serve burnt corpses of animals.

How enjoyable.

They've decorated the horse stables with pink ribbons that test my gag reflex - probably because they're the same shade as my hair - and the trees behind their house are strung with little strings of twinkling white lights.

While Mr. Raine and my dad go off to join some of their friends, mom says, "You have some beautiful trees next to your house."

"Oh yes," Mrs. Raine lips curl up in an attempt to seem modest. "In fact, we're planning to build a tree house soon."