The opposite character

Chapter 1: Maniac driver

"Chrissy", I yell yanking off her covers, or at least attempting to for like the fourth time in six minutes. This barbie doll does not have a plastic grip.
   She mumbles something incoherent and a go away Chels.
"Chrissy, I mean it you gotta get up or we'll be late".
"Who cares", Chrissy murmurs, her vice like grip still around the covers.
  I give up on trying to pry the covers off her and instead just go for her legs, that hardly budges either and I  break a sweat just sliding her a few inches out. I pause to take a breath.
"Jesus, Chrissy", I pant "You weigh a ton".
Christen snaps out of her sleepy haze and throws me a glare, "No I do not", she spells out like it's such an absurd statement.
        It is. Christen is the queen of diet.
I grin triumphantly at her "Great, you're up, shoulda said that ten minutes ago".
   Christen rolled her eyes at me and climbed out of her bed stretching slightly.
"You've got exactly thirty minutes before your class starts and me forty five, if you hurry you might not have to drive like a maniac".
   Christen makes a face at me like I'm stupid
"I  always have to drive like a maniac".
Christen and I have an agreement of some sort. Since I flunked my drivers test woefully, Chrissy has to give me a ride as my roommate and best friend. For this arrangement to work in a win win situation for the both of us, we worked out a simple plan in which I allow Christen to sleep in a while and take the needed time for hair and make up and in return she drives over the speed limit to get me to Ben's breakfast hub early enough for me to grab breakfast and make it to class in time.
Can't say how many times this arrangement has gotten us a speeding ticket and sometimes a fine but Christen is a crazy ass  driver and on some good days we even manage to loose the cops.
As soon as Christen gets into the en suite bathroom, I get a rag and start to clean the vanity mirror removing every spec of dust or whatever make up color that had gotten stuck to it so Christen can see her flawless face when she needs to use it in a few minutes.
   Because believe it or not if it wasn't clean Christen would take her precious time wiping her precious mirror before attempting to do her make up. It's her baby, though originally the mirror came with the room itself when we purchased it and technically it should belong to the both of us, the mirror was undoubtedly Christens. I hardly used mirrors except for when I needed to pop an occasional zit.
    Wiping the vanity mirror took me back to our first year as roommates in one of the dorms in college, when I would regularly mess up the only mirror in the room to piss her off. We hadn't been friends at all back then, Christen had been friends with a bunch of unfortunate girls that thought they ran the campus social scene, they were noisy and  annoying and they didn't like me including Christen. On some days when I wasn't in the dorms they would take out my clothes from my closet and make critic comments about them. Later Christen and I found we had things in common like how we never lingered on choosing what clothes to wear except I tended to pick a random comfortable pair and she, marching fashionable clothing. We also had the money to pay for private apartments off campus but were willing to experience dorm life for a year, even then I still didn't like her because of the crew she hung with but then they started to spread gossip bout her and she finally broke off from them. Then we took a few courses together and finally started to really hang out.
   Christen stepped into the room minutes later, hair and body wrapped in white towels. She went over to her closet and fished a few clothing items and put them on. She was sporting a pink skater skirt, white sleeveless off the shoulder top and black leather heeled ankle boots with cute little chains and charms dangling off the sides. I was sporting a comfortable worn out grey T-shirt and a baggy faded pinafore with my favorite converse I was very aware of the lack of style but I'd worn such clothing since as far as I can remember in my childhood, me and my brother Jonas, but Jonas had given up the style and I had inherited all of his old pinafores hence the usual baggy clothing. My mum had tried to talk me out of it calling it my own personal comfort zone but I'm only simply in love and attached to my clothing ways.
  Christen unwrapped her hair from the towel and turned around to grab her hair dryer when her gaze landed on the empty nutella jar on my study table.
    "Dania died", she stated pointing to the empty jar.
    "Yeah Dani died last night, had to finish my paper".
     And yes before you ask, Dani is my nutella or should I say nutellas. The odd relationship started sometime in middle school when I started a new food experiment which involved putting powedered chocolate beverage in between my bread as some kind of chocolate sandwich. After about a week of that constant experiments -they usually don't last that long-  my mum gifted me with a jar of nutella because a: I was using her chocolate beverage inappropriately and b:chocolate bread spread deserved to be eaten the right way. Weird kid that I was, I literally fell in love and called her - I assure it's a she-  Dani short for Danielle. Then she died in my stomach and then there was Daniella, Danice,Danion, Daniline and a lot of other long lines of Danis in my life up until last night when Dania also became history, can't say I'll miss her though, need to introduce Danica soon.
     "You know if you keep going through Dani's like a starved elephant, your nice fast metabolism would soon give way". Christen said.
I shrugged at her, "And that's such a bad thing, how?" I asked. I didn't mind putting on some weight, I was petite, short and thin and that stature killed my childhood dreams of being the intimidating, ass kicking , independent woman in high school.
      I was 5'3 with light blonde hair and grass green eyes and I had a voice noticeably higher than the alto but not quite at soprano, not exactly qualities to become an hardcore rock star that specified in metal music which was my second dream.
After Christen huffed at my question she plopped down in the chair by the vanity and began to do her make up. I tapped around my phone screen waiting a while and then I grabed my backpack and Christen's already packed hand bag I made her see to last night and headed out. It's my way of telling she only has five minutes left or thereabout.
Thankfully she heeds my message and comes down to the parking lot in about seven minutes. Her face and hair primed in  light and casual perfection. She has a touch of mascara and light colored eye liner and a plain blue berry scented lip gloss. Her face has a light dusting of brown powder and her check bones shimmer under an almost invisible coat of bronzer and her neatly brushed auburn waves are held in a high ponytail.
I opened her car with the keys I had picked up on my way out and tossed them to her. I got in the passenger seat flinging my backpack in the back seat and setting Christen's handbag carefully beside it.
            It's channel, the latest one.
Christen slid into the driver's seat next to me and shut her door, then she turned to look at me and just stares.
  "What?", I asked, leaning over to press the start button for her. The car humed to life.
"Hurry breakfast awaits".
Christen rolled her eyes then plucked something from her pocket, "I found a bow",she announced before she pounces on me. I struggled a little before she has it pinned  to the end of my pigtail.
    She leaned back and breathed a sigh of relief, "There a splash of color, grass green like your eyes".
I scowled down at the bow now dangling from the end of my pigtails, "Now I just really look like one of those farm kids".
  "We can fix that", Christen said and before I know it she pressed her fingers to her lips and smeared some of the gloss off and slapped it to my own lips, spreading vigorously.
     I jerk back from her fingers
"Christen", I warned glaring at her.
"I'm not giving up on you Chels", she retorted pressing her left thumb to her tongue and bringing it up to the side of my mouth to clean off some gloss that got in the wrong places.
   I swatted her hand away, no way in hell.
She shrugged and turned to the side mirror of her car fixing her gloss,while I scowl and try to wipe the thick slimy thing off .
   After fixing her gloss, Christen turned and smirked at the bow in my hair like it's one of her life achievements.
    "Someday", she sighs,
     "Drive", I reply.
She rolled up the glass turned on the air conditioner and cranked up the radio. We both put on our seatbelts, (highly important) as Leo Sayer's I love u more than I can say comes on and Christen pulls out of the parking lot super fast and we both sing along at the top of our horrible voices as we race down the street at illegal speed.

Hi hi hi😆
Hope u enjoyed this first chapter. More to come pinky swear.