"NOOO"
"YES"
"NOOOOOOOO"
"FIGHT ME YOU LITTLE SHIT"
"IF YOU LOVE ME LET ME GO"
"I DON'T LOVE YOU LIKE I DID YESTERDAY"
*a few hours ago*
"I'm bored."
"Me too."
"Are you bored?"
"I am."
"Are you still bored?"
"Charlie, you just asked me that 2 minutes ago."
The exact same conversation had been repeated for about 5 times now, and had been going on for exactly 25 minutes. Ever since that day at the cafe, me and Rhiannon had fallen into a routine of lying, her on the bed, me on the floor of her room flipping through alternative magazines and listening to her weird ass music (not that I'm judging, but seriously, all I can make out of her songs are "this is sandpit turtle". What does that even mean?). But anyways, that sort of led to the conclusion that I wasn't missing out on much by not having a best friend my whole life. Which sort of sucks, because I was so looking forward to, I don't know, maybe hair-braiding and pillow-fighting sessions? But then again, you can't really picture a girl like Rhiannon pillow-fighting or braiding hair for that matter. It's like picturing an angry bull doing ballet, even though she doesn't look the least like an angry bull, but more of an angry pixie.
Suddenly, Rhiannon looked up from her spread about a tattooed guy who apparently has a "spiritual awakening which led to a monumental change in creative directions" and grinned evilly. This was definitely not a good sign.
"You know what we should do? We should give you a makeover. And you, my darling, shall be true and authentic punk-freaking-rock."
"Umm... I'm not really sure about that... I mean, I already gave myself a makeover. And what do you mean I'm not true punk rock?" I gave a shaky smile. Can you blame me, though? The last time my mom tried to give me a "makeover so I'll have more friends", she burned off a chunk off my hair and somehow managed to wax my whole left eyebrow. I had to wear an itchy wig with blunt bangs for months. Talk about traumatizing.
"Pfft, you call that punk rock? You look more like a Joan Jett wannabe. Underline wannabe."
"I look perfectly fine, thank you very much," I crossed my arm stubbornly. All those YouTube tutorials on How To Create An Edgy Look can't be wrong, can't they?
"Charlie Peanuts McCarthy, you're coming with me, whether you like it or not," Rhiannon stood up and crossed her arms intimidatingly. And that girl can definitely be intimidating, with her tattoos, piercings and permanent resting bitch face.
Oh, and did I mention she's 5"9?
You can't blame me for caving in.
-
"Try this on."
"No wait, hold this."
"Hang on, you have got to try this."
"Oh my god, this is so punk rock."
No, this is not a conversation between two people. It is Rhiannon talking while I follow behind, carrying several tons of clothes which she insisted "would look so edgy on you" because the word "cute" is simply not punk rock enough. And don't let me get started on the small lump that was starting to rise on my forehead because she hit me with a combat boot.
Wanna guess where we're at? Hang on, I need to retouch my eyeliner.
Hot Topic.
Yep, the paradise for emo kids here and there, everywhere. The safe haven of misunderstood kids who are determined this is not a phase. And of course, the only place where the queen of darkness shops.
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The Stereotypes Project (UNDER MAJOR EDITING)
Teen Fiction"Stereotypes... Why be one when you can be all of them?" - When Charlie McCarthy, a self-proclaimed nobody of Jacksonville High decides that she has finally had enough of being unpopular, she begins to formulate a plan to become all the typical high...
