Permanent Scars

The Good-For-Nothings

September 8, Friday. 7:45 p.m.

Cold sweat causes my skin to prickle as I stand in front of the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door. Adam said to wear black. That's not a problem. The problem is that he didn't specify the type of black clothing to wear. Despite it being a concert I have a feeling this sort of event must be semi-formal.

   I own a black dress. That would work. I could throw on a dark hoodie to cut the formality a little. And I'll just wear my sneakers because they're the only shoes I own. A lot of people might be surprised by that. Most girls my age have closets full of shoes. I only have two pairs of sneakers. Low tops that I wear everywhere, high tops for nicer occasions. But I'm just gonna wear the low tops tonight. I don't want to be fancy.

   Pulling the little black dress over my head, I turn around to check myself out from all sides. I look alright I guess. I've never been one to obsess over my appearance. The dress is looser than I remember, but I've lost weight recently so that could be why.

   He really should have sent Mia over. She seems fashion-forward, as much as an emo girl could be anyway. She knows how to flaunt her style; she'd probably know exactly what to wear for a night like this. Besides, I could use her bubbly personality and motherly attributes right now.

   Frowning at my reflection and tossing my bangs to the right side of my face, I think harder about that. Do I really need someone with that kind of energy at the moment, or do I need someone more...tame? Yeah, believe it or not, Mia is more hyperactive than Adam. Especially with what he's been going through lately.

   As if on cue, there's a loud knock on the front door. My impeccable memory aids me in recognizing it as Adam's knock; it sounds exactly the same as it did Wednesday evening when he came over.

   I consider running down there to answer, but default instead to leaning out my bedroom door and shouting for him to come in. He must have really good hearing—I'm not the best at shouting, my voice is always too quiet it seems—he enters and I hear his familiar footsteps mounting the stairs.

Wait. He's coming up here...oh geez. Good thing I'm dressed. Not that he's the type to just barge in on anyone.

   Two small taps on my bedroom door. I'm amazed he knew exactly where to find me. Then again, maybe I'm not amazed—he's a musician, and knows a lot about sound and the way it carries.

   At the sound, Mackerel gets up from where she's been napping on my bed, stretching her little legs and body. Purring, she lightly hops down and pads over to the door, fishing her paw beneath the crack. She knows he's out there. I take a deep breath and try not to panic. It's hard because I've been so close to breaking down all day. School was nearly impossible since Adam wasn't there and the bullies were lurking. I wish they'd just leave me alone. Nobody physically hurt me today, thank goodness. I'm still sore from Wednesday.

"Can I come in?" Adam's high, edgy voice is muffled through the door. Mackerel rolls over, purring happily. She acts like his presence is catnip.

I glance at my reflection again, taking another deep breath. I look okay I guess. Presentable enough.

"Uh, yeah, sure." I'm about to open the door, but he beats me to it, poking his head in first. He smiles when he sees me.

"You look great. I love your dress."

"Uh...okay?" All my nervousness has escalated in this moment and with those two words it all comes crashing down. I was hardly holding myself together to being with.

Adam steps into the room completely, looking quite puzzled in the aftermath of my response. "Hey, you alright?"

Trembling so hard, I shake my head, wringing my hands together. "No. No."