makeover

makeover [9]

chapter 9

andrea's pov.

i sit criss crossed with tears streaming down my face. i felt so weak and helpless. i shut my computer screen, forcing myself to stop reading the things people were saying about me.

in the last hour, my twitter had been non-stop hate comments. i was reacting to it wrong, i knew that. i should be coming back with bitch replies, but two wrongs doesn't make a right so i decided against that option.

the best option is to ignore them and to know what they're saying isn't true but i'm finding that option impossible. ever since the whole thing with Amanda had happened i wasn't doing great.

i tried to breath deeply but it barely helped.

i thought about what happened a lot, and ways i could just ignore her for and avoid her as much as possible. i was happy with that at the moment and feeling okay, until i logged into twitter on my computer.

it was a picture from last summer, i was in a swimsuit. honestly, i'd forgot i had even posted it. until Amanda apparently stalked me so hard she did. she re-tweeted with the caption "ugly whore" and gotten over 500 re-tweets.

500.

people commented things like "omggggg truuueee" or "slut" on it.

my twitter was blowing up with "slut" "whore" and "hoe" comments at the moment and i wasnt dealing with it great. it triggered me. bad.

// 2010-five years ago.

i was walking into school, the warm breeze hit me as i entered.

It was the first day of seventh grade and i was feeling quite confident. my white shirt reached about 3 inches above my knee and my baby pink shirt showed a few centimeters of my recently-tanned stomach.

i knew i was pushing the dress-code, but i liked it. all of my teachers loved me so i knew that i wouldn't get in any trouble.

it was my second year of middle school, i wanted to try new things. or be popular, like Amanda.

my moved the tips of my hair that was currently in a high pony off my shoulder and griped the sides of my backpack. i was nervous, but how bad could it be? Amanda wore stuff like this all the time.

As i round the corner to where the lockers were located i emmidiatly saw
Amanda standing by her locker and doing her mascara in the little mirror she had placed in there.

i self-caunsiously touched my clean face and wondered if i should've bothered using some of my moms makeup this morning before school.

tomorrow, i thought to myself.

i looked down at her outfit and found her wearing american-eagle jeans with her white shirt loosely tucked into it. she looked sylish. but then again, with her skinny body she could pull off nearly any outfit and look great.

i looked down at my white sneakers and approached my locker, which was about 10 lockers away from hers.

as i began to twist my code into the navy locker, Amanda snapped her head to me and looked me up and down before scoffing and applying her 50th layer of mascara.

my face pulled into a frown when i saw her actions towards me. i mean, i just want to be friends with her.

i sighed and clutched the cold plastic of my binder to my chest. i shut my locker, being sure to not slam it when i heard the sound of the five minute bell.