Chapter 12

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"Pst, Claude

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"Pst, Claude."

I'm too absorbed in Mercutio's wildly poetic dying speech to take much notice of Emmy's hiss. Romeo and Juliet is propped in front of me on the table, my eyes following line after line.

Miss Gramenz had insisted that it was one of the most absorbing plays of all time, and I'm beginning to agree with her, when a scrunched-up piece of paper hits me right between the eyes.

I look up to find Emmy staring at me, wide-eyed and insistent. She points at her phone and I roll my eyes before grabbing mine out of my bag. There's a message from her.

What are you up to tonight?

I shoot Emmy a glare to solidify my annoyance at being interrupted before texting back.

Nothing.

Good. You're coming out with me. Heather's having a party.

This gets my attention, and I glance at Miss Gramenz, sitting at the front of the English classroom.

You mean the Heather that threatened to get me expelled?

Yes. There's no other Heather.

Then, no. I'm not going.

The bell rings, and before I even stand up, Emmy is on me.

"Aw c'mon, Claude. Heather isn't that bad. She's high strung, but once you know her, she's alright. Besides, everyone else is going. Even the boys. I heard Lewis invited your brother."

My eyes narrow, and I realise Emmy has said the one thing that could convince me to go. Because I don't trust this apparent 'friendship' Lewis and Jake have formed. Not one bit.

"Fine. What time?"

"Aleisha and I will come pick you up at 7."

I sigh. "Okay. Am I supposed to dress up?"

"Yes, you are. Wear something cute. I'll bring the alcohol. Do you like cruisers?"

...

After spending a solid twenty minutes searching my wardrobe for something 'cute' that afternoon, I realise I have a decided lack of suitable party outfits.

This isn't entirely my fault.

It's only been a couple of months since my house burnt down, and all my clothes along with it. But I also can't help but notice that the clothes I've bought since have a decided would-be-practical-in-a-zombie-apocalypse kind of vibe, rather than the required cute-party-girl one.

After much consideration, I pick out the tightest pair of black jeans I own, a singlet and my timberlands, and put on a light layer of eye-liner and mascara, hoping it will satisfy Emmy.

As I open my bedroom door to run to the bathroom, Jake walks past, ignoring me as per usual.

"Hey!" I call. "You're coming to the party tonight, yeah?"

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