SHADES of GREEN ↬ m. wheeler

VIII. RED

CHAPTER EIGHT
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❝RED❞

　
　

JADE PREFERRED SOLITUDE—a stranger could predict this. Sometimes, she would give in and go out with a friend, to the movies or to their house. But Jade thoroughly disapproved of parties. The word itself made her shudder.

　When Esme showed up at Jade's door, clad in the perfect image of 80's party-wear, Jade instantly shook her head and produced a solid, "No."

　Esme's subtle perfect-good-girl style was gone. Her white-blonde hair was wild with hairspray; she wore a tight denim skirt over neon pink leggings and a black-and-white striped top, neon green leg warmers and several multicolored jelly bracelets on each wrist. Her lips, coated with an extremely bright red, pulled into a grin.

　"You don't even know what I was going to say."

　"As a matter of fact," Jade countered, eyes widening with alarm, "I do. You told me you only wear neon for parties, and no. I despise parties, Esme."

　Esme shifted all of her weight onto one foot so that her hip popped out. She was chewing a rather large wad of gum. "Have you ever even been to a party?"

　"Um...no. But—"

　"Exactly." Despite Esme's puppy-dog pout, her smile lived on in her silver eyes. "Please, Jade, just this once. If you don't like it, I will never ask you again."

　"No, Esme."

　"Please!" she begged, bouncing on her yellow heels. "I promise, this party isn't like the ones you've probably heard of in the city. There's no alcohol or anything like that. Just music and dancing and friends."

　"No, Esme."

　Esme deepened her pout, and reached out to wrap her hands around Jade's wrists; her nails were orange and glittery, probably just for this occasion. Jade fought the urge to rip her hands away. She hated being touched, almost as much as she hated parties.

　"It's a small party, Jade, only a few kids from school," Esme whined. "They're all nice. We'll probably just end up gathering in the living room with popcorn and a movie."

　"Esme," Jade said, voice as hard as stone and colored with disbelief, "I said no. I don't want to go, and you won't—"

　"Jade, honey," wafted Jade's mother's voice as she made her way into the living room, face pinched with confusion. She was drying her hands with a dishrag. "Who's your friend?"

　While Jade's head was turned, Esme's face had lost its pout. She'd stared at Jade, with a difficult expression to read. But when Sarah Oaks had asked about her, she turned her gaze to meet the woman's and put on a dazzling smile.

　"Hello, Mrs. Oaks," Esme chirped, voice clear and sweet. "I'm Esme Greene, Jade's friend from school. We haven't been properly introduced, have we?"

　"No." Sarah's confusion morphed to what looked like caution. She frowned at Esme, the dishrag balled between her hands. "I don't believe we have."

　Jade stood awkwardly in the doorway, acting as a barrier between Esme and the living room. Esme turned her smile on Jade and asked, "Can I come in, please? It's cold out here."

　"Yeah, it is," Jade mumbled, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. She was wearing a sweater, but a blast of cold air had seeped through the fabric the moment she'd opened the door.

　Jade stepped aside, allowing Esme to swiftly move inside. There was that grace again, Jade noticed, surprisingly smooth for the height of her heels. Compared to Jade, Esme was a thin giant. She towered over Sarah as well, who had passed down her shortness to her daughter.