Downright Misfits (Downright Delinquents 2.0)

Chapter Eleven

I don't speak with Wren for the entire week. Both he and Constance left for the weekend. I wish I was relieved at that, but loneliness is threatening to eat me alive. I've dried up my liquor options. Not having that crutch to fall on has me feeling extremely anxious.

Munching on a bar of chocolate I scored from the vending machine, I stare up at the ceiling and begin counting the lines across it. I would kill for a T.V. in here.

A knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts. I'm dressed in a faded, tie-dyed shirt and ripped jeans, having rolled one leg higher than my ankle, having been too lazy to roll the other one. I showered and dressed all before eleven a.m. today. Progress.

Cora stands outside my door. She has dark eyeliner around her eyes with dramatic wings. Her pretty blonde hair falls in waves down her shoulders. She's dressed in similar ripped denim–shorts, not jeans—and a jumper at least four sizes too large for her body. It sags across her shoulders.

Cora is the kind of pretty that if you pass her down the street or in a supermarket, you do a double-take, to confirm the person you just passed really is that attractive. I hate how it makes me feel completely the opposite.

"Hey," she says, and I realise I have stood there silently for a few moments.

"Hey."

More silence.

"I, um, knocked on a few doors trying to find you. Not many people are here," she explains, twisting her fingers together.

"A lot go back home for the weekend," I tell her.

"Not you?"

"Not me." I'd love to be with the Jenning's this weekend, but they didn't offer, and I don't want to overstay my welcome. I was kicked out, after all.

She steps closer to me and I back up, a little too quickly, and she side-eyes me for a moment. She roams around the room.

"Your room is very... er... bare," says Cora, looking at my noticeably plain side compared to the vibrant colours of Constance's.

I don't know what to say to that. It is.

She wanders to Constance's side and picks one of the candles up and waves it under her nose. She looks satisfied with the scent and places it back down where she found it.

"What are you doing here?" I blurt rudely.

She doesn't seem to mind my bluntness. She sits on the edge of Constance's bed and flings her legs forward, crossing her ankles. She has sparkly pink paint splattered across her toenails.

"I thought we could hang out."

The fact that someone has gone out of their way to find me to hang out seems a little absurd. I don't really have any friends. I feel my cheeks grow warm as she stares openly at me, a slow smile stretching across her lips.

"Okay," I eventually say. "What would you like to do?"

"Let's get a coffee. You can show me around campus," she suggests, springing to her feet with an energy I wish I felt. I don't bother to change my outfit. I slide my feet into sandals and shove my room key into my back pocket.

She orders a Chai Latte and I order a Mocha, to satisfy my chocolate craving. The cup warms my palm. The security is significantly more relaxed of a weekend, I've noticed because the school has emptied so much. We don't see any guards when we leave the cafeteria and push out the side doors. The warm air spills over my face and I tilt my head back, embracing the warmth. Cora's sparkly eye makeup shimmers in the light.