Chapter 28

Chrissa is still staring at me incredulously as we step out of the school, as if I'm a completely different person than she pictured. When she found out that I was suggesting skipping our last class, I swear she almost had an aneurysm. I could practically see the wires in her brain going 'This does not compute.'

"You do realize I have a free period, right?" I ask her as I close the passenger door to her red Corvette (yes, her car is literally worth more than probably all the money my mother has saved right now). She rolls her eyes. "Yes, but you're such a goody-two-shoes I wouldn't have expected you to leave school-ever."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not an idiot. No one in the office even checks the security cameras- or cares if we leave. Why would I just sit at school when I don't have to?"

Chrissa shakes her head. "God, I was so wrong about you." She buckles her seatbelt, turning to face me before pressing the 'start' button on her car. "Are all nerds secretly this cool, or is it just you? Kind of like a Clark Kent/Superman thing?"

I just roll my eyes, laughing.

"Do you think this shirt makes my boobs look too big?" Chrissa asks me two hours later. I'm sitting in the dressing room with her at Nordstrom while she tries on their most expensive clothes. Up on her list next apparently is Kate Spade and Gucci.

It's making me feel a little awkward, knowing that there's no way I'll ever be able to pay for any of this, so I'm just stuck here watching Chrissa try on shirts.

"No, it looks good," I tell her, snapping out of my daze and giving her a thumbs-up. "Very high-fashion. You could be on the cover of Vogue next week, I mean, you're practically a celebrity. The-"

"You're not helpful at all!" Chrissa says, tossing a bundled-up shirt at my head. "And why aren't you trying anything on? I need to give you advice on how to improve...that," she says, looking at my plain sneakers, faded jeans and Gap t-shirt and waving her hand.

"Shut up!" I say with a laugh, throwing the shirt right back at her. "And- Chrissa- you know why I'm not buying anything. I don't exactly have Nordstrom money."

Chrissa picks up a white crocodile-skin Balenciaga bag that I'm pretty sure had a $1200 price tag, sighing. "Just try something on. Anything. Just for fun."

"I don't even know what I'd get anyway!" I say. "I haven't gone shopping in years."

Chrissa rolls her eyes. "Okay, I know that's not true- I saw you and the Jefferson girl at Urban Outfitters like two months ago."

"Yeah, but that was for her. Not for me."

Chrissa sighs, though I can tell her disinterest is somewhat fabricated by the way she continues to look at me through the mirror. "What ever happened between you two, anyway? You used to always be little nerd-friends together, and now she's practically avoiding you like the plague and going to parties all the time."

I blush. "Uh- well- the truth is, I don't really know. I guess she just... got bored of me."

I don't want to admit to Chrissa that some of it might be my fault, that she might now hate me because I was never interested in music like she was, because I never wanted to go out and party and have fun- because of what I said about her crush on Cody Chasen.

But still, I can't help but feel like Mayah abandoned me somehow.

"Well, my boyfriend has just decided that he's bored of me, so, I guess you're not alone in that," Chrissa says, pulling out the shirt collar under a preppy-looking plaid vest. She wrinkles her nose. "This is way too Gossip Girl."

"Really?" I ask her. "I think it's cute. You look like Blair Waldorf."

Chrissa laughs, looking back over at me and my... very worn in Converse. "Okay, that is it. I cannot handle you waddling around here like a little ugly duckling anymore- we are going to get you a makeover."

Which is how, thirty minutes later, I find myself in Confiance Belle Salon, Chrissa watching smugly as the hairdresser asks how much I'd like off. "Uh- just a trim, please," I say quickly, looking at my almost-upper-hip-length red hair. I haven't cut it in years, we just couldn't afford to and had bigger things to worry about, but now it feels like a part of me, a piece that I'm scared to part with. But at the same time, I look at my split ends and the way it always tangles at the bottom. It's practically forming dreadlocks.

Okay, maybe I am ready for a change.

"No, she does not just want a trim," Chrissa tells the hairstylist, standing up. "She needs some serious help. Layers. Highlights. Maybe even bangs- I think they'd look good on her face shape."

"Chrissa!" I exclaim, turning around to slap her. I'm only half-joking.

"Come on, Sienna," she says, shaking her head. "Stop being so uptight. Now look in the mirror."

I oblige, turning away from her and looking at myself in the mirror. "What am I supposed to be looking at, exactly?" I ask, swiveling around to face her again.

Chrissa smiles encouragingly at me. "Yourself." She turns my head back so it's facing straight ahead, looking at the mirror. "Now. What do you see?"

What do I see?

I stare in the mirror, really staring this time, my eyes glancing over my skin, always paler and rosier than I'd like, the dotting of freckles all over my nose, like someone took a brown marker and liberally drew dots all over my face. My shirt is a faded orange that makes me look almost sickly, to be honest, and it's certainly not doing me any favors. My chest clearly protrudes out of it, but the rest of the shirt just hangs down, making me look... like a box. And my jeans don't exactly fit well either, too tight in my hips, practically falling down at my waist and baggy at my ankles. And my hair... my hair is long and tangled, the red enough to make the rest of me look lackluster and plain- so bright it's almost blinding. It's greasy at the top but thick and wavy at the bottom, making my head look like a bell. All together I look...

Sad, honestly.

Chrissa seems to sense my expression, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"I look... terrible."

"God, no," Chrissa says. "You've always been beautiful. I just want to help you show it to the world. Can we make that happen?"

And apparently I abandon any ounce of intelligence I had, because I nod. Chrissa squeals. "Thank god- I love makeovers!"

We finish at the salon before I even have time to think about what the hell I'm doing (and before I have time to see what I actually look like), and while this has actually been surprisingly... fun... the giant bill I just realized I'm going to have to pay is less enticing. But as I walk up to the counter, the blonde girl standing there whose name tag reads Mabel just gives us a little wave. "Enjoy your day, ladies!"

"Wha- but-" I stutter as Chrissa grabs my arm, pulling me out of the store before I can protest further. "Relax, dude, I just paid for it." She holds up a shiny gray card, grinning. "Thanks to my mom's credit card."

"Chrissa! You shouldn't have done that!" I say incredulously. "I'm not just going to spend your parents' money!"

Chrissa just rolls her eyes, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder in a move that seems too movie-star-like to be real. "Hon, you really need to relax. Smoke a joint or something. You act as if I didn't just spend triple that much on shoes in Nordstrom. And besides. It was only $170. It's not exactly a fortune."

"One hundred and seventy dollars?" I ask, my jaw dropping in disbelief. When I was little, I thought getting my hair trimmed at Supercuts was a treat. That cost $14.

"Chrissa, please let me pay you ba-"

She holds up a hand, stopping me before I can talk more. Her tone is authoritative. "Absolutely not. It was a gift, okay? A way to make up for however much shampoo you must have used up after I poured maple syrup in your hair. If you really want, you can buy your own shit now," she says, ending her words with a little huff. "Now- can we stop arguing? I'm too excited to see you looking like a supermodel."

Chrissa and I visit Urban Outfitters, Nordstrom Rack, Brandy Melville, Lulus, Forever 21- all stores I can actually afford with my meager minimum-wage salary. And I have to say- I'm having fun. I can't remember the last time I just let loose, or went shopping, or just had a friend to joke around with. Chrissa and I even bought matching Target nightgowns- in the extremely attractive colors of gray and tan. We're definitely going to be the most attractive grandmas on the street.

"Here- try this on," Chrissa says, holding up a lacy blue bra labeled 'Bombshell.' It looks like it might try to strangle me at any opportunity. "Wait- what's your bra size?"

"34 C," I say, trying not to let my voice show my embarrassment. I'll never be tall and thin like she is...

But Chrissa just raises her eyebrows, rummaging through the rack to find one in a bigger size. "Right. I always forget that you have boobs. I'm jealous."

I can't help but let a semi-bitter laugh escape me at that, it's just so... ridiculous. "Chrissa. Seriously- you're gorgeous. You look like a frickin' model. Plus, I mean, Christine and Jase both seem to like it..."

"I'm really not so sure about that," she says with a bitter laugh. "Especially the Jase part. He just broke up with me, remember? And- uh- you're really not one to talk." She looks over, giving me a glance that's full of meaning I can't quite interpret. "Wait, sorry- what?"

"Well, you did hook up with him, right?" she asks, the casual tone in her voice almost as startling as the words themself. She looks over, apparently mistaking the shock on my face as being for a different reason. "You can tell me, it's okay. I'm not mad." Though, I notice her voice take on a slightly frosty edge as she says the words, almost like she doesn't entirely believe them herself.

"Chrissa," I say firmly, my eyes wide, "I'm not hooking up with Jase. I never did- I swear."

Not that I haven't thought about it.

Anyways...

"Oh, thank god," Chrissa says, laughing a little bit. "I was mostly sure you guys hadn't, but I just wanted to know... for sure. That's what I was thinking when I saw you were invited to that garden party out of the blue..."

"Our moms are friends," I say quickly, before she even has time to ask. I don't need Chrissa finding anything out about my... financial situation just yet. She's slowly growing on me, and I'm trusting her with more than I ever imagined, and yet... there are some things I just don't want to share with anyone.

"That's what Jase said," she nodded, seeming to relax. "Thank god, then. I mean, I was certainly trying, but it would've been kind of hard to be friends with someone that hooked up with my boyfriend. I'm sorry for the way I treated you at the party and... everywhere after, though," she says, and I can see the sincerity in her blue eyes. "I guess I just thought that... you had my secret, which was enough on its own. But you had to have my boyfriend, too?"

"Water under the bridge," I say, giving her a tight smile. "But just for the record, I never 'had' anybody. Definitely not Jase. Though if you really thought he'd want to sleep with me, the two of you must've had a pretty awful relationship."

She shrugs, pulling her cardigan closer to her chest in the process, like she's closing herself off to the world. I can see her mouth open, and I half want to tell her that I don't want to hear it. It feels... strange, listening to Chrissa talk about her relationship with Jase. Like something I shouldn't be hearing.

But at the same time, I'm curious. And Jase and I live in a house together, shouldn't I be entitled to some basic information about the kind of person he is?

And then of course, there's that small, teensy-tinsy matter of...

My feelings for him. If you can even call them that.

"It wasn't awful, actually," Chrissa says, looking over at me, though her eyes seem to be staring directly through my face, almost as if she's imagining something completely different. "Apparently both of us can be nice when we want to. The only problem was..." She sighs, looking down and biting her lip. This clearly looks like it's hard for her to admit. "We didn't want to."

"But... you were dating..."

Chrissa shakes her head. "Yeah, but barely. I think we both knew that it was over. It was a good... first everything... but the two of us just weren't right for each other."

"Then why on earth did you stay together?" I ask her incredulously. This makes- absolutely no sense. Whatsoever.

"I mean, we barely did- we were both sleeping with other people and broken up like three-quarters of the time. But I guess I just... well, firstly, there's the whole Christine thing. Nobody would expect the head cheerleader- the one who was clearly in love with the hottest guy in school- to be sleeping with a girl. And, I guess, some part of me... just didn't want to let him go. I don't know if I could ever just date him normally again, but there'll always be something between us. He was my first kiss, my first, well, you know... the only person I've ever said I love you to... and even when I caught him making out with some girl at a party and was furious, he'd always try to win me back, show up at school with flowers and chocolate and apologize. It just felt nice to have someone care about me, I guess. Even if I wasn't... right for him, I still loved him."

Okay, I've changed my mind. I really don't want to hear about this. At all. Some stupid, traiterous piece of my heart feels like it's being chipped off with a steak knife everytime Chrissa talks about how much she loves him. "Uh- but- what I still don't understand is what was in all of this for Jase."

She scoffs, looking down. "Well- that's the thing. I was using him to fill some stupid hole, and he was using me-" she shakes her head. "So that no one would dare to question his status as the most popular guy in school."

Wait- I'm sorry, what? That makes absolutely no sense.

Seeing the confusion that must be written all over my face, Chrissa explains more. "The thing about Jase is that... he's not exactly the unfeeling asshole that everyone thinks he is. He just tries very hard to... make himself seem that way."

"Why would anyone try to seem like an asshole?"

"Beats me," Chrissa says, turning back to the rack of bras and picking up two more. "But if you want my guess, I'd say... status, popularity, power. The only things that seem to matter to our social hierarchy at UVPHS are money- and how 'cool' you are. Unfortunately, people seem to substitute 'cool' for being a dick. Like Jase. And, I mean, me too."

"Why, though?" I ask. "Why does it matter so much that you're liked that you have to hurt other people to get there?" I'm asking this question of her now- it feels excruciatingly strange to talk about Jase this way when he's not here.

Chrissa shrugs. "Who doesn't want friends? Or to have people notice them, to get invited to parties and have friends and feel like you matter?"

Well, good point. I keep telling myself that I'm not upset, that I don't mind watching people on Instagram go out, give each other birthday posts, get invited to parties. Especially when it's Mayah doing that- with other people. Maybe I really have just been lying to myself.

But what Jase and Chrissa are doing doesn't exactly seem healthy either.

But maybe there's an in-between?

A/N:  Hello lovely people! I hope everyone's having a good Monday and taking this crazy pandemic as an opportunity to have some fun and not be in school :) Also I just gotta say- y'all got me to 1,000 reads?? THANK YOU🥺🥺!!

I also just want to put a little disclaimer- this chapter was mainly meant for chAracTer DevELopMenT and all that stuff, so there's a lot less drama than in some other chapters- but don't worry, because I think you'll really like what I have up for you soon! (Insert evil laugh here). I also have to warn you- I was verrrrrrrry sick when I wrote the majority of this chapter, and in my strange haze of delirium probably made this all awful and completely nonsensical. So if any part of this seemed a little...well, off... I guess you know why and I shall give you my sincere apologies!

Also- I love love love getting comments from you guys and so if there's ever anything in my chapters that makes you go hMm, or even if you find something I wrote that you like/agree with (a little bit of a stretch, I know), then please don't hesitate to write a comment. And speaking of comments... I'm really in the mood for ice cream, so if you have a favorite ice cream flavor, leave it in the comments below! (Mine's Ben & Jerry's Cookie Dough for the record)

Love y'all!!

LZ🍋