AM, PM

chapter 2

  LAYLA     

        “ARIEL!” I shout, lunging towards my best friend. She has broken into a fit of giggles, clutching her phone close to her chest. She took a picture of me while scratching my nose, but it looked like like I was picking my nose with all my might. God, so horrible.

Ariel takes my arms off her with ease. “Gold digger! Whatchu diggin’ up there?” she exclaims jokingly.

“Did you delete it?” I demand forcefully.

She shrugs, “Of course not.”

I sigh and roll my eyes at her. This happens at least once a day; she likes to experiment with being my own personal paparazzi. Ariel once told me that when she grew up, she’d be a professional photographer, slash rock star and I had no doubt that she had the potential.

Her blood red hair cascades down her back like a mysterious waterfall. She takes effort in making her hair look good, to her, hair creates your image. She first dyed her hair in sixth grade, which got her a suspension from school. Apparently, having blue hair was against school rules. Since when had Ariel ever followed school rules anyway? The girl changed her name to Ariel, for God’s sake. Her real name? Alexandra. Her favorite Disney princess? Ariel. The rest is easy to figure out.

“You suck,” I groan. “Remind me why we’re friends?”

“Because you wove me,” she coos in a baby voice, squishing my cheeks together.

“I'm under duress babe,” I protest. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t even be an acquaintance of yours.”

Ariel scoffs, “Darling, don’t even try. You love me more than anything. I’m your main bitch." She says the last sentence in white girl accent she can imitate all too well.

“You’re right about that,” I smile. “Mom gave me an extra cupcake to give you.”

Her eyes bulge out of their sockets, “The Layla cupcake?!”

“Indeed,” I confirm, showing her the cupcake as proof in a little box.

My parents own a little bakery shop called Cherie , which meant darling in French. My mother’s cupcakes are known across town for their majestic taste and their rich stuffing. She named one of the best selling cupcakes after me.

And now another one was named after Dominic, the lovely addition in my family. He was born a year ago, disturbing the peace my parents and I had. I’m not a bad person, but I just—sometimes I wish he didn’t arrive. He takes over the space in mom and dad’s hearts. I just feel left out, I guess.

"Ooh, my precious, my precious," she says in the voice of Gollum from the Lord of the Rings. We both start helplessly laughing.

“Your parents are rad,” Ariel continues, fawning over the cupcake.

I smile while getting rid of the tear streaks of laughter still on my cheeks, “I know.”

A boy I can recognize from miles away with ease is approaching us. I nudge Ariel and whisper: “Code Blue.”

She automatically straightens up and leans against my locker, waiting for him to pass by. Code Blue is our way of communicating whenever he is close by.

Instead of walking past us, he stops and smiles at us with charisma. “Layla, Ariel,” he acknowledges, bright grey eyes glimmering, “Party at the haunted house this weekend, you in?”

Oh my God.

Calum Archer is inviting us to his party. While I feel like my insides are turning into mush, Ariel handles it calmly. This is why she’s the social one in this friendship.