The Band Geek | ✔️

Chapter Four

Ally's POV

Knock knock, "Go away," I squirm, digging my face into my pillow. The knocking stops, and I happily fall back into slumber. But the silence ends quicker than it began.

I hear the door swiftly open, "No can do, Goldie, it's Friday, and your first day of school." I hear a guy answer who definitely isn't my father.

I shoot up in bed, looking around the room. At first I was confused, then I quickly realized, this is my life -- for the next year anyway. I look over to the door, then realize the one who woke me up was none other than Hudson.

He sighs heavily, "Seriously, we don't have all morning. Hurry up, I'm driving you, and if you aren't quick, you're walking to school." He says rudely, then exits the room, slamming the door. What's his deal?

I sigh, looking over at the bedside clock that Peyton got me, 6:57 am. I'm so tired and I feel so jet lagged, all I want to do is sleep. Although now that I think about going to a new school, I think I'm way too nervous to go back to sleep.

I hop out of my new bed, which must have been pricey because it was the most comfortable thing I have ever slept in. I walk over to the two doors that are connected to my room. I'm assuming they're a bathroom and closet, considering there is no dresser in here, and I haven't seen a bathroom in the house.

I try the door on the left because it was closer, and I saw it was a large walk-in closet. In the closet I found my larger suitcase, and guitar case on the top shelves. And the shelves were filled with my clothes I brought from home, I'm really happy she didn't get me clothes because I feel like that would be too much. They've already done so much for me, and adding clothes to the pile would just make me feel... spoilt.

I grab an outfit that I already picked out for the first day of school. At my old school I was chosen for the 'best dressed' award for two years, Sophomore and Junior because frosh Ally was what you call -- not even remotely cute.

The outfit I chose was a cute mustard patterned halter dress, with some pretty brown booties, with my brown string backpack. I walked through the other door which turned out to be a bathroom, with a big shower, vanity, the sink area, and the toilet. I walked back into the closet and searched through some of the drawers to find my makeup bag.

Once I finally found it, like five minutes after, I walked back into the bathroom and sat down at the vanity. There's both a vanity and a sink counter with a mirror so what's the point of having a vanity?

I do my regular makeup routine which people may say is a lot, but I've always been really self conscious so... I don't give a fuck what you say. It's not Jeffree Star, James Charles, or Patrick Star makeup, but it isn't fifth grader 'mascara and lip gloss' kind of thing either. I put on concealer, powder, bronzer, blush, eyeshadow, mascara, lipstick, a small wing, subtle highlighter, and some setting spray -- then I'm done. Although it sounds like a lot, I do it in a natural kind of way.

I can't stand seeing people with caked faces, or black smokey eyes on a casual day. Or when people don't know how to do makeup, but they smear black eyeshadow all over their eyes. Why do people feel the need to cover their face in makeup?

For my hair, I get out my flat iron, and get to work on the strands. About ten minutes later, I have finished my appearance. So I get to work on all the finishing touches. I spray some of my favorite body spray, retouch my makeup and hair, then I decide that... all hope is lost and I still feel extremely self conscious.