The Perfect Suicide Plan (Luke Hemmings) #Wattys2016

Really, Bitch?

Yesterday at the mall was torture my mom bought me about 50 different clothing items including shoes. My mom enjoyed using me as her own personal Barbie doll, and of course she didn't pick up that I hated every moment of it. She even bought me makeup despite I have no fucking idea how to even use this shit.

I look at the filled makeup bag and scan all of the different brushes and products I have. Without knocking my mother bursts in my room and leans her head on the door as she smiles at me. I hate it when she acts like this. Like she actually loves me and gives a fuck about what I do.

"I'm so proud of your progress Alex", wow, that's the first time I've ever heard her use the two words "Alex and proud" in the same sentence, even though I've been bringing home an honor roll report cards since middle school. I guess that's not good enough for her, but wearing a dress with long pretty hair is.

She sits on my bed next to me and grabs my makeup bag and holds it up next to her face with a big smile.

"I could help you with this you know?" As much as I want to decline her offer I do need help from someone who knows how to use this stuff. I don't exactly have a pool of friends to choose from.

I can't bring myself to say a single kind word to her without spewing my true feelings toward her so I bite my tongue, force a smile, and nod.

She hops off my bed claps her hands and jumps up and down like a peppy high school cheerleader. At this point I am speechless she's a bit too excited to give her antisocial daughter a makeover. She regains her composure and begins to work on my face.

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"All done Alex!" I rush to the mirror to find a different girl looking back at me. I never thought I was ugly like most insecure teenage girls, but I never thought I was capable of looking like this. I mentally check step 1 off my plan.

 The blush defined my cheek bones and the eyeliner and mascara made my lashes longer and made my brown eyes look bigger. I look like someone from TV. I notice my mom standing behind me still so I force a smile.

"Thanks mom", she returns my smile and opens her mouth to speak but the door bell ringing interrupts her.

"I'll get it mom", whoever it is I want to get as much human interaction with other people as you can. I want to see how different I will be treated now that I'm society's definition of beautiful.

I swing open the door and find the very tall blonde boy who knocked me down at the mall yesterday and got in between me and my Cinna-bun. The sun was shining behind him giving him a Halo effect that would have made any girl melt, except for me. I consider myself an asexual.

"Hi, um, me and my family just moved in next door." He has a deep voice and English accent. He points his head left in the direction of his house I smile and pretend to show interest in where he lives.

"My mum, wanted to ask if you guys would mind if we cut down that tree over there", he tilts his head to the direction of the tree he plays with his lip ring and then shoved his hands in the pockets of his black skinny jeans.

I rack rack my brain for something a normal teenage girl would say in response.
"Well, I'm not sure. I can go ask my mom. I didn't get your name by the way". I silently praise myself for saying this without being rude or odd about it.
"Luke, Luke Hemmings, may I ask what your name is?"

"Alex Anderson", maybe I can start on my next step to my plan.

Step 3:
Make other cool teenage friends

I stick my hand out for him to shake it."Nice to meet you Alex", he does a half smirk that is very, very attractive. But like I said, I hate everyone, and that extends to pretty boys with sparkling blue eyes and piercings. He's probably just being nice to me because I'm pretty. He doesn't even recognize me from the mall.
"Nice to meet you too Luke", he reaches in his pocket and grabs a piece of paper and scribbles something down on it. He hands it to me and winks before he shoves his hands in his pockets and walks back to his house.

I roll my eyes at him soon as he turns away from me. Who actually winks at people? That's creepy and screams 'I'm a pedophile don't talk to me!' I close the front door and lean against it and sigh.

I look at the paper which has the name Cathy Hemmings and a number written on it I assume that's his mother. Without really thinking I flip it over to find the words "that cute guy ;) "and his number scribbled before it.

Wow, what an egotistical bastard. I remember how it felt when he held my hand in his. It felt like there was something there, think about it and realize I was holding in a fart for a while and release it. Ahhh, that's it.