This past week has flown by. I'm beyond happy it's officially the weekend. My classes have kept me extremely busy. So far, literature has been my favorite. I enjoy doing the journal entries. They allow me to confess things that otherwise I never would. Getting it off of my chest has allowed me to breathe. I've also learned several new techniques to incorporate into my writing. I used to love writing when I was younger. Short stories and poems were my focus. But I even kept a secret diary. I would write about everything. My family, how school was that day, and even who I had a crush on. Eventually, I started writing deeper poems. The older I got, the more drugs I experimented with. The darker my poems became. I wrote a lot about my depression. Or how the blade would slice cleanly through my skin. I would describe in detail how watching the blood escape my body would distract me from my problems. But after my father committed suicide, it changed me. I felt like writing was a waste of time. Who would read it anyway? I would never be a famous author. Then one day I gave it all up. I figured it wasn't for me anymore. No one stopped me or pushed me to keep doing it. No one cared.

Being in Mrs. Roberts's class has brought my old passions back. I'm excited to write again, even if it's only for me. One day someone might read my work and appreciate it. I might save someone. Maybe I can help someone struggling. 

I haven't seen Hayden outside of the one class we have together. Even then, he doesn't speak to me. I wonder if I did something wrong. Did I make him mad? Or has he moved on from trying to get my attention? Does he think I'm boring now? I hate to admit it, but I miss his smart-ass remarks. He's grown on me a little. The way he always argues back and forth with me. Or how he seems to show up when I least expected him to. I guess it's time for me to move on from him. I need to quit worrying about him and focus on myself.

Sky and Hope had a minor disagreement, so she has been home almost every night this week. It's been nice having her here. We've done homework together, played cards, and watched movies. The conversation comes so naturally to her. We discuss everything under the sun, from our annoying families to our favorite foods. I know more about her than I do April. I'm glad she's my roommate, after all. She has gone out of her to make me feel at home. She even gave me a few of her favorite throw blankets to keep on my bed. I would be lost without her. She has become my best friend.

"Are you coming to the frat party tonight?" she asks, as we walk in from our last classes.

"I don't know, I'm not much of a partier. So I doubt it" I lie through my teeth. I used to love parties. I was always the one drunk. Clumsily dancing on the table. Half the time naked from the waist up. I have a large collection of Mardi Gras beads back home, proving it. I have almost every color you can think of. Some even have tiny penises between the beads. Those are my favorite ones.

"Please, it will be fun. Plus, I need a friend," she begs, sitting on the edge of her bed. Smoke fills the room as she lights half of a blunt she left earlier in the ashtray. "Hope is still mad at me and won't text me back," she whines, sticking her pouty lip out. An enormous cloud of smoke escapes from her puffed-out lips.

"Okay I guess you win, but I'm not staying late, okay? I want to be home at a decent time. The new episode of my show comes on tonight," I whine, defeated. Lying back on my bed, I scroll through my Facebook page. I seldom use it. Normally, getting on it to creep into my old friend's pages. I like to spy on them. And learn what's going on in their lives. How they're doing? I haven't talked to them in years. A big part of my recovery was letting go of people from my past. I don't miss my old lifestyle, but I miss some of my friends. 

She lets out a loud squeal as she practically throws herself off of her bed. Her huge boobs bounce up and down as she claps her hands together.

"Now to get ready," she blushes, rushing to butt her blunt once again before skipping over to the closet. I watch as she rips things off the hangers, tossing them to the ground behind her. A tornado of clothes flies through the air.

Two hours later, we're finally ready. Skylar picked out a tight-fitting, simple black v-neck cut dress. It's on the shorter side. The bottom of it falls short of reaching her mid-thighs. She looks a few inches taller with the help of the chunky black combat boots she's wearing. It's strange seeing her bare legs. Fish nets normally keep them covered.

Her hair is down, loosely curled, and pinned back to one side. She's fastened a large black rose pin at the base of her ponytail. She surprises me with a brightly colored makeup theme, including a vibrant baby blue eyeshadow. It's different compared to her usual smoky grey. But I like it. The lighter colors make her look like a different person. She looks stunning either way, but tonight she looks amazing.

"Hope better recognize what she's going to lose if she doesn't stop being so petty," she teases, blowing imaginary kisses into the mirror.

I allowed her to dress me as well. She chose a black pencil skirt, which hugged my curves. It makes my rear stand out more than usual. I'm nervous about bending over because it's rather short. The top she went with is a tight red dress shirt with an open back. The sleeves go down below my elbows, with each end flaring out a bit. My poor boobs look like they're suffocating, trying to escape. I have to adjust it several times. My nipple keeps popping out over the top of it. It's one of those shirts that has a built-in bra. The label reads one size fits all. I doubt it works for everyone though, including me. But I have to say this outfit flatters my curves and busts.

We decided to go for a natural look with my hair and makeup. My tight curls bounce as I shake them out. Spraying a heavy layer of hair spray over them. It's a last-ditch effort to keep them from fraying out. She completes my look with a deep shade of red lipstick.

Her phone dings as I adjust the straps on the red pumps she begged me to wear. I'm nervous about walking in them. I hope I don't break my neck.

"Cabs here," she informs me, using the mirror to apply one last layer of lipstick to her plump lips. She rushes around, grabbing a few last-minute items, and shoving them into her purse. A hair brush, deodorant, lip gloss, and body spray to name a few. She's lucky her bag is the size of my book bag. Or she'd be out of luck.

Thankfully, the cab ride is only on the other side of campus. Our cab is an older-style traditional yellow vehicle with leather seats. The material is cold against my thighs. Someone has ripped the seats in several spots, allowing the stuffing to fall out. The smell inside is horrible. It's an odd mixture of old, moldy cheese and cheap cologne. A small hint of vomit is coming off of the seat belt. I refuse to put it on. Not to mention the cabby is giving me the creeps. He's an older man with a bad dark brown hair piece. You can see globs of glue dripping down from under it.

His body is extremely round around the middle and smells worse than his cab. A strong whiff of stale cigarettes and body odor add to the already horrendous stench. Every few minutes, he lets out a loud belch. The horrible stench of overcooked cabbage then takes over.

His clothing isn't much better. He's wearing an old worn-out gray and blue parka. Several bright orange stains run down the sleeves. It appears whatever he had eaten last is still alive and thriving on his front side. Large gooey yellow blobs variously splatter across the front of his parka. Dark brown crusty areas have formed around the edges of each spot. I wonder when the last time he washed it was? He keeps his creepy old googly eyes glued to the mirror. Watching our every move. Every once in a while, he smiles, a hideous toothless smirk directed back toward us.

I have never been so happy to pull up somewhere as right now. It takes a few minutes fumbling around with the handle before I can get the door open. As soon as I climb out, I inhale deeply. The fresh air fills my lungs. I'm relieved to see that almost every girl here decided to dress similarly to us. I take a moment to glance around.

The smell of weed and liquor fills my nostrils as soon as we step foot in the house. This was a horrible idea. I can already tell. I should have stayed home in bed.

Most of the females here are already drunk and have lost their shoes. They are now running around barefoot. A few of them also misplaced their tops, revealing their lacy undergarments. One girl has also managed to lose her bra. Her nipples are on display for everyone to see. This party is going to be interesting.

The music is blaring. I can hardly hear myself think. People are dancing everywhere. On top of the tables, in the front yard, a few are on the couches, and one who thinks the door is a pole. Several blunts are circulating, filling the room with a thick dark smoke.

"Hey, I'm Andy. Welcome to our frat party," a muscular blonde boy greets us. He smiles, holding out a red solo cup. A joint is hanging from his mouth. He's nice enough to also offer it to us. In the past, this would have been my kind of party, wild and out of control. But right now, I feel out of place.

Skylar graciously accepts both from him. I watch as he reaches behind him, grabbing another cup from the nearest table, and offering it to me. I hesitate to take it. Sky gives me a look, telling me to go for it. I hesitate, nervously, thanking him and grabbing the cup. She smiles at him once more before linking her arm around mine. I reluctantly allow her to lead me off towards the rear of the house, leaving Andy standing there. I can feel his eyes on our backsides as we walk away.

"Look there's Hope. How do my boobs look" she asks, pressing them firmly together. She causes them to pop out over the top of her dress.

"You look great," I reassure her, laughing while she shoves them back in adjusting them.

Hope notices us, heading in our direction. Like Sky, she also looks great in a slim lime green dress. Her pale legs are glowing in the dim lighting. She has bright red hair slicked back in a tiny barrette. Her bangs curl down towards her forehead, resting above her eyes. A thick silver herringbone sits perched above her breast. It sparkles each time the light reflects.

Trying to ignore their "I'm sorry" make-out session, my eyes travel around the party. A group of older boys are playing beer pong at a nearby table. Every time one of them scores, getting excited. They look silly jumping up and down, crashing their chest against one another. I watch as an overweight boy with pink hair downs an entire glass of whatever they are drinking in two giant gulps. There are a couple of girls sitting beside them. They're hanging on their every move, giggling excessively, like a bunch of young schoolgirls. 

A movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. Hayden is sitting in an oversized beat-up black leather recliner. He looks tired and aggravated. Dark purplish circles are visible beneath his eyes. The blonde bimbo from the other day is sitting between his legs. Her hands massage their way up his thighs. Stopping short of his midsection. A big smile etched on her face. She's not as pretty as I had first gave her credit for. Or it's the lighting.

I feel his eyes on me giving me an excuse to tear my eyes away. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing this bothers me. Skys is no longer next to me. Not wanting to continue watching Hayden I head off to find her.

It's quieter out back. You can barely hear the music. Looking out over the yard, there are fewer people, so it's easier to spot them. I guess they made up. They are cuddled up on a blanket sitting beneath a giant oak tree. They're engaged in a hot and heavy make-out session. Not wanting to be a third wheel, I walk down towards the edge of the lawn. It gets colder the farther away I travel from the house. The wind has picked up a little. I watch the leaves along the ground blow by.

I find a little cement bench at the yard's edge, looking out over a small cornfield. The stalks vary in size. The corn hasn't yet bloomed. Instead, small white flowers cover them. The sky is clear. Once again, it's full of stars, shining down on me. I love being outside. Every time I see the stars, it reminds me of my dad. It is one of the best things about living here. I should have worn thicker clothes. I can feel the goosebumps popping up over my exposed skin. My teeth are beginning to chatter.

"Well hey, there gorgeous. Why are you sitting out here all alone?" a drunk boy mumbles, stumbling up to me. He trips over a small stone, causing some of his drink to splash into my lap. I instantly recognized him as one of the jocks I had seen my first day. Once again, he is wearing his varsity jacket. He would be more attractive if he wasn't belligerent and reeked of marijuana. His greasy black hair is tossed up in a man bun on top of his head. I can barely see his dark-colored eyes beneath his heavy eyelids. It's a miracle he can even see. He doesn't get the hint that my silence means to leave me alone.

"Names Jake, baby, what's yours?" he slurs. He seems to be struggling to string his words together. Each one has a long pause at the end of it. Starting to become uncomfortable, I shift my body away from him. I attempt to pull the hem of my skirt farther down, squeezing my legs tightly together. I flinch under the added weight of his arm slinging across my shoulders. His breath is hot on my neck as he attempts to whisper something in my ear.

"Bex there you are. I've been looking all over for you," Hayden hollers from somewhere behind me. "Mike get the fuck out of here with your drunk ass" His voice becomes fiercer as he walks up. I've never heard him sound so angry. Without saying a word, he walks up, snatching him up by the collar of his jacket. All the color from Mike's face quickly drains. He's sweating uncontrollably and mumbling like crazy.

"Sorry dude I didn't know she was yours", he stutters. Tripping over his words he tries to wiggle out of Hayden's tight grasp.

"Well, guess what now you know? So get lost. I better not see you around her again. I mean it," he growls. I watch in horror as he fiercely throws the boy backward into the metal fence.