She hated him. He hated her. And that was alright in their world until one night. Everything changed then, conversations exchanged between drags of a shared cigarette having developed a mutual respect between enemies.
-----
Slowburn enemies to frie...
Oops! Ang larawang ito ay hindi sumusunod sa aming mga alituntunin sa nilalaman. Upang magpatuloy sa pag-publish, subukan itong alisin o mag-upload ng bago.
I stare at myself in my vanity mirror. Distressed white-painted wood encapsulates an oval mirror decorated with a polaroid of Ivy and me when we were around Dustin's age. I remember Davis taking the picture and stealing a pen from Miss Pearl's desk to write on the bottom of the image. Summer 1979, it reads.
Just like my life, nothing is going right tonight. I can't draw my eyeliner on the right or apply my lipstick evenly. Whenever I take a break from the makeup, my shaky hands try to comb through my unruly hair. Tufts of baby hair stick all around my face like a lion's mane, frizzy and fried.
I have a minimal wardrobe for tonight. I only have a total of five shirts, three pairs of jeans, and my worse-for-ware boots. I pick through the clothes critically, despising every fabric that slips in and out of my hands. I flick the cloth onto the bed with malice. This is ridiculous. Why do I even care what I look like? I hate these people except for Nancy and Barbara. I'm only going because I can't stand another night sitting in bed and painstakingly counting the hours since Will went missing, feeling like I should know more than I do.
I decide on a pair of rolled-up boyfriend jeans and a burgundy knit sweater. I pull on my least holey socks and slip my boots on. I look down at my feet. Am I going to hang out at a rich kid's house in shoes so worn that my toes nearly poke through? I don't have a choice, but it is still embarrassing.
I groan, plucking a sharpie from my desk and plopping onto my bed. I prop my foot up on my knee and color in where the black faux leather has worn off to reveal the cream-colored cloth underneath.
Dustin knocks on my doorframe. "Are you still spending the night at Barbara's tonight?" he asks through my open door.
I tuck my hair behind my ears nervously. "Yeah, but I've got a minute. What's up?" I say, patting the space next to me on the bed. Dustin plops down next to me. He noticeably loses tension in his shoulders, closing the door behind him as he comes in.
"You'd never tell Mom anything we talk about, right?" Dustin asks, looking up at me with puppy-dog eyes.
I shake my head. "Of course not,"
"Good, good. Well then..." he choked on his words a bit. His face grows pale, and he rubs his knees nervously. "there's this thing that we found in the woods while looking for Will," he begins. "we have no idea what to do and don't want to tell our parents and get in trouble. I sort of promised the Party you'd help us out..."
