Run Away Teen

Chapter Four: Best Friends? I Think Not...

Benson hops into the car and we carry on driving.

"You okay?" the 16 year old in the car asks worriedly, patting my back.

I nod, putting on my best stage smile. Finally, all those years of torture, urm, I mean, Acting Lessons, that mum put me through, have paid off.

"Yep!" I lie.

I fall asleep in the car, and wake up when I get slapped on the arm by my kindly sister, of whom I snap at.

"Sorry," she says in a 'I don't care AT ALL,' tone.

We enter the gym and find Leila's coach and team, which isn't hard, as they are all dressed in the same putrid orange.

"I'm gonna wander," I inform my family, and walk over to the seats overlooking the floor apparatus.

"Next up, Sienna Cole! 15 year old Sienna is joining us again after quitting due to traumatic experiences two years ago!" a man announces over the loudspeaker.

"Gosh, don't give away her whole life story!" a brunette sitting in a neighbouring chair mutters. She's obviously Sienna's friend.

The music is yet to start, so I look at the competitor. She doesn't look like the gymnasts on t.v. She's average height, but she's so skinny that you can't see an ounce of muscle on her, unlike the muscly olympic gymnasts. Her blonde hair is plaited, and she's wearing a shimmery blue leotard with ¾ length sleeves, and a white and purple swirling pattern at the bottom. The music eventually plays and she's off, leaping, tumbling, dancing about the mat like she's got wings. When she finishes everyone cheers madly, especially the girl next to me.

"Yes, Sienna! You go girl!" she yells.

Sienna is so lucky to have a best friend like she has. I get off the seat and head off in search of Leilani. She's next on the beam. She gets help mounting the wood, and then sits on it while waiting for the music. Then she skips clumsily and warily to the other end, before jumping down. Exciting routine.

"Yay Leila!" everyone dressed in orange yells, when she receives a trophy for first in her age group.

The must be the only one in her age group, then, if that's the best beam routine.

On the drive home, I'm abnormally quiet. I mean, I'm not the most talkative person ever, but normally I'll chat wildly to my elder sister.

"You sure you're okay?" she questions, and I nod.

When we get home she's not as supportive. In fact, I've just climbed into my bed for an early night when she comes storming into my room.

"Haha. Very funny," she snaps, while I stare at her, more confused than I have been in a long time.

"What?" I ask.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't know. I've discovered why you were so quiet on the ride home," she snaps.

I have never seen my sister like this. And she can't be acting, she can't fool a baby with her attempts to do so. She wrenches me out of bed with the pull of an arm, and practically drags me to her bedroom. She then opens up her make up drawer.

"Woah," I say, my jaw dropping.

Because Primavera's precious, brand new make-up collection, is completely wrecked. Her bag is stained with her lipstick, which is now completely finished. Her mascara is pooling on the bottom of the desk drawer and her foundation, blusher, and eyeshadow is mixed together in a gloopy container. Someone, whoever did this, has written on top of her desk with eyeliner pencil; 'Luv ur mk-up.' Sick.