Blues

9. Blue Spark.

"Blue shock, exchange blue shock, exchange blue spark."
Blue Spark by X.

Chapter Nine.

My eyes gaze at the sightly version of me in the wall-length mirror. My outfit may not be premium, but it's decent enough. The ripped, skinny, black jeans look like second skin on my legs, making my curves stand out. I think I was possessed when I purchased them. They're not comfortable at all, and I'm sure I will find angry, red lines on my body the moment I take them off. The jeans are matched with a chiffon polka dot blouse. It kind of guilts me to fracture the black look, so I harmonize it with black ankle boots. They're three inches long just so I don't look too sawed-off in the outfit.

I spend a few minutes perpending whether I should wear makeup or not, and then settle for mascara and an unshowy lipgloss. I don't like looking too flamboyant.

I exit my room, pulling my small messenger bag over one shoulder, just to find Hannah sitting on the couch I abominate the most, sipping a glass of wine as she squints at her phone. I discern her perfectly curled hair, looking like strings of golden pearls dangling down her beautifully made-up face. I admittedly feel self-conscious, absentmindedly touching my straight ponytail. She's wearing a green army dress, and it blends well with her hair. I shake my head, dismissing the silly thoughts. I'm not scatterbrained.

She looks up when she notices me standing there, grinning immediately. It's been a long time since we conversed. We always greet each other, but otherwise, we marginally interact much. It's hard to have any stony feelings toward her while she's being nice like that. The only vigorous conversation we had so far was when she went off at me, other than that, she was always smiley and genial to me.

“You look ravishing!” she exclaims, studying my outfit. “Going somewhere?”

I smile at her. She's dressed up to the nines, yet she still compliments me. “You're looking fab yourself.” I fold my arms, still smiling. “Going somewhere?” I wink. I'm always so elusive.

She rolls her eyes. “Claire invited me to her friend's party.” she innocently shrugs, and yes, it's innocent. I know she doesn't have the slightest idea about my little cross fire with the bitch she's friends with. Besides, she doesn't strike me as the guileful type.

Eek.

I don't know why I'm surprised. I know that she's friends with Claire and I know that Claire is exhaustively aware that we live together, but I didn't expect Hannah to be invited to Logan's birthday party, who talked to me yesterday, telling me about the time of the party.

Claire and Hannah: 1
Candice: 0

“Logan's party? That's where I'm headed.” I plaster a fake smile on my face.

“Oh really?” she asks, though she's not that surprised. “I suppose that's predictable, since you're friends with that squad and all.”

“Yeah, I guess. So you and Claire?” I ask, wanting to confirm my speculations.

“Oh Claire! I'm taking art history with her. She's pretty friendly.” she genuinely smiles, as if she's remembering a gratifying memory with her. Now, my suspicions are confirmed. She hasn't witnessed her bitchy side yet. Moreover, their friendship wasn't plotted.

“Hmm.” I refrain from saying a sarcastic comeback. Friendly, my ass.

She suggests that we go together, and I assent. Logan gave me the detailed address, and apparently, Hannah has it too, but from a diverse person. She drives us with her Hyundai car, and it doesn't take long for us to arrive. Throughout the drive, I keep contending that I did the effort to look good for myself, and not to look pleasant to anyone's eyes.