MIXTAPES-- l.h.

Part TWO

Part 2

natalie's pov.

"You talk like you're famous, you're shameleeeess!" I yelled, rinsing my sister's expensive apple shampoo from my hair. The song ended as I squeezed my eyes shut as they continued to sting. Dammit, stupid expensive apple shampoo. 

Today was a Saturday and I intended to get up early this morning only to remind myself for the third time today (counting the two times I reminded myself around 1am today) that it was indeed true. I never woke up early even if I was used to it and opened my eyes around 2pm, wasting daylight. 

After my "Oscar-worthy" shower performance, I stared down my reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror. Quickly, I got dressed and finished in time for the fog to recede. I leaned forward and rested my upper body on my elbows, staring closer at myself. 

I squinted my eyes, something was off. 

Maybe it was my lips? Or my collarbones? Or my-- motherfucking hair. I groaned, out loud and examined the fading blue color. My hair was originally blonde until I started coloring it last year. I never liked my blonde hair because I looked too much like my sister (which I was nothing like, believe me.)

She buys fifteen dollar apple-scented shampoo and I buy thirteen dollar albums. She invites her friends over and I pretend they're mine as well. She buys tea and coffee from Starbucks while I buy orange juice and chocolate milk from Walmart. She goes out every Saturday night to the movies or ice skating with her friends while I stuff my face with my mom's baked ziti or three-and-a-half minute mac and cheese. Everything along the lines of the 'She wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts' cliche.

However, those comparisons don't make me better than her. In spite of that, she is still the most heartless person on the planet. We could completely switch tastes but she is still, no doubt, the worst.

Our family dinners were quiet. No one had anything to say. My mom cooked the food and my dad enjoyed the food while my sister was out getting food with her friends and I picked at the food. My mom would usually have a lot to talk about with me in the car, which were mostly complaints about me but she would have rather ate my dad's cooking than bring up negative topics around dinner.

My dad was always tired from work and wouldn't talk much at parties. He listened to my mom talk and looked at her as if he loved hearing her talk (which we all know is what drives the party down) because he did. 

Dinners were always cold and quiet.

"Hair dye." I clarified for myself, out loud. 

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I was halfway out the front door when I heard my sister screaming for me from upstairs. I grabbed the keys to our shared car and slammed the door behind me. 

"Natalie!" 

I quickly backed out of the driveway and sped down the street. I could see her in my rear view mirror flicking me off but I turned the radio louder. 

It was a slow Saturday, no one was on the streets even on a beautiful day like this. I would like to spend the day outside, however, I have some music that needs downloading. 

I used to love the outdoors. I would play until my dad called me inside to go to bed and secretly camp out underneath the stars. But now I close my curtains until the room is pitch black and I can't go anywhere without a functioning air conditioner. People change, almost never in a good way.

I pulled up to the drug store and parked the car between a motorcycle and a mini van. I turned off the engine and huffed out a tired breath. My heart had been beating fast and it always does whenever I pick on my sister. I pulled my hair up and popped open the door. 

The grocery store next door was playing Sara Bareilles and my head was playing All Time Low. I felt out of place in an almost empty parking lot of Asian families with matching Asian cars in my ripped jeans and tank top. 

As soon as I opened the door I felt the cool breeze welcome me inside. The man at the register mumbled something under his breath and slouched on his metal stool. Scanning the aisles, my eyes fixed upon the usual color of my hair and swaggered back to the register where the cashier looked at me with dead eyes as if he was wearing a face mask.

The door opened again and the bell went off. The cashier handed me the box in a bag and I caught a glimpse of another customer. Suddenly, I felt my eyes go dead (you know, in a good way).

He had pink hair. That was the first thing I noticed. It suited him but it also gave off this feeling that he changed it constantly. 

His skin was pale as if he had been inside all day. He matched my complexion except he was somehow paler.

His clothes were dark and ripped and loose and tight, all at the same time. He suited them as if he had jeans tailored to his liking.

His eyes were the last I saw of him when we made eye contact. They were hazely and light and almost turned me to stone.

But I walked past him without another word. I walked past his flaming pink hair and his snow white skin and his dark and ripped and loose and tight at-the-same-time clothes and his light hazely eyes that almost turned me to stone without a smile. I walked past him without another glance.

I found myself after I got home, after my sister and my mom yelled at me for taking the car out without telling them, after our cold-hearted dinners with the family where no one talked, and after I had fallen asleep that night, remembering those features and regretting what I didn't say. 

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hello filler chapter sorry it scucked balls but i start the actual conflict in the next part ok sorry by

(( yeha that was michael she saw in the shop so))