THERE ARE CLOTHES scattered around my bedroom floor, in piles of fabric collapsed on top of one another. Colors of magenta blends in with the periwinkle, and the forest green is lost among the pallor of the white. In my hands are a loose-fitting sundress, the color of the setting sun with a belt secured around the waistline, and a burgundy camisole and cardigan. I frown at my indecisiveness, blowing out a meek sigh and sliding to the floor of my room.

It is only then that I acknowledge the mess, blinking. I did not notice how messy the floor had become, or how chaotic the room seemed to be in. Mom will not be pleased.

I speak too soon.

There is a knock on my bedroom door and the doorknob wobbles as it is turned, until the door is slightly ajar and the hint of her ginger hair is peeking through the crack. 

"Eleanor?" she asks, her face making its way into the sanctuary of room. "My God, El, what are you doing?"

My face shows no emotion as my arms droop to my sides, the pieces of fabric long forgotten in their grasp. My mother glides into the room with the grace of a ballerina, her sundress billowing from her movements. She bends down and picks up a sweater, disapproving noises coming from the back of her throat. I squirm in my spot and wring my wrists together as I wait for the yelling to ensue.

"Your room is a mess," she scolds, her dainty eyebrows creased together in a frown. "How many times have I told you to make sure your room is always clean? Don't you realize how dangerous it is when there's God-knows-what all over your floors? You could hurt yourself."

We don't want a repeat of--

"We don't want a repeat of what happened two summer's ago, now do we?" My mother makes an exasperated noise, opening a drawer and shoving the sweater inside with force that isn't necessary. I shake my head.

Before she continues her rant, I stop her, standing in my spot and lifting the two outfits in my hand. She eyes me warily, arching an eyebrow. 

"What?" Impatiently, I lift them both higher and frown. "You want me to choose?" I nod.

Her eyes show even more confusion and I nod assuringly. Sighing, she points to the cardigan and camisole before placing her manicured hands upon my shoulders, "Honey, why are you asking me? You never care about my opinions." She is trying to guilt-trip me. It is working.

Blowing a quiet breath, I drop the garments on the floor and climb precariously over the mess, picking up a stray notebook and pen from my bedside desk. I scribble on the pristine sheet - never touched until the moment my pen hit the white and the ink flowed freely on its pages.

I lift the sheet and turn back to her. I was invited to a party. Can I go?

Her response is immediate, "No."

 I deflate inside. I had not originally wanted to attend. Yet, the curiosity was burning inside. I had never been to a party. I had never been invited to one. I had never had the willing chance to interact with others.

I scribble angrily on a clean sheet -- it is so hard that the pen scratches the sheet and cuts through, the etchings protruding until it hit the next page. It is one word but it tells a million: Why?

"It's too dangerous," Her eyes narrow as she crosses her arms over her arms.

Too dangerous? Too dangerous? When will you give me a chance to be normal for once?

Her eyes slowly morph into something like sympathy. "Honey, you'll never be normal. You know that."

I feel tears prick the back of my eyes and the pen drops unceremoniously from my fingertips. She reaches out a hand but I cringe back from her touch. I bend down despite the dull ache in my knee and grab the cardigan outfit, brushing past her and into the bathroom to change.

Once finished changing, I creep down the stairs, past my bedroom door knowing fully that my mother would be perched on the mattress, her eyes red rimmed and throat sore as she wept, wishing that everything could be the way it was before.

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I smooth the creases of my blouse -- after clenching the edges for five minutes as I simply stand at the steps of Brent's home, staring at the burgundy door.

My hand is poised in a fist, yet unable to hit the surface of the wood. My mind is torn about whether or not I should have listened to my mother. After all, I was raised to believe my parents were always right.

I should go back. This is a mistake.

But before I can turn away, the door swings open and Madison's glowing complexion is shining in the dark of the night. She smiles dangerously at me and cries out with fake enthusiasm, "Emery!"

I shake my head but she ignores the gesture and ushers me inside roughly,"Ugh, I was afraid you weren't going to show up. Everyone's been waiting for you." I blink in surprise.

I am pushed through endless white corridors until I come upon a room that is filled with the football team and cheerleaders, and other strangers that fill up the halls of Mayview. There is loud music and red cups and dancing and the smell of something I can not put my finger on.

Is this what a high school party is like?

I am confused as Madison pushes me onto a couch beside a muscled boy who gives me an uncomfortable smirk. I recognize him from sociology class: Kyle; age seventeen; blonde hair; amber eyes; notorious for trouble.

I shift away slowly.

"You're just in time," Liana smiles knowingly, "We're starting a game of spin the bottle." I don't know what the game is or how to play but I nod just so they assume I do. I glance around the circle; there is an empty beer bottle in the center. My eyes scan the people until it rests on a certain someone I recognize all too quickly.

Chase is focused on something in his hand -- he is flipping the plastic object in his hands with the sense of utter boredom as he pays no attention to the game currently happening. I thought he was not coming, but it is not until I see his position besides the captain of the team, Bryce, that I realize he has been forced to attend.

"I'll go first," Madison says in her nasally voice, clapping before she reaches forward. Her bare midriff is exposed and I see how the boys subtly lean in. Her hand skims the bottle and then it is spinning.

It keeps spinning until the movements slow down and soon it is stopping. It lands on a player named Steven and Madison narrows her eyes. She blows on the bottle until it lands onto Bryce. "Oh, look! It must be fate!" 

She smirks and stands from her spot as she makes her way over to a smug Bryce. He reaches out his arms and places his hands on her waist as she straddles his lap, her pelvis dangerously close to his own.

She immediately presses her lips against his and they are kissing so passionately that they are rocking back and forth and it is both disgusting and intriguing and I don't have my camera and I feel so awkward and--

"Get a room," Liam groans, rolling his eyes. The couple springs apart rather sluggishly, Madison biting Bryce's bottom lip before whispering something in his ear and peeling herself off him. He smirks in reply.

"Kyle, why don't you take my turn? These babies are only for Maddy." He puckers his lips in an exaggerated manner and the group laughs. Kyle winks and reaches out to spin the bottle.

It spins. And spins. And spins.

Until it stops.

And the mouth of the bottle points towards me.

Kyle's smirk widens and he turns to me almost immediately. I widen my eyes and shake my head vigorously, pushing myself further towards the edge of the couch. "Come on, Eleanor." he says in a husky tone, licking his lips. At the mention of my name, Chase's head whips up and he widens his eyes as they settle on me. The guitar pick in his hand is suddenly still.

"A quiet girl like you has to be hiding something," Kyle continues, edging closer to where I sit.

There is no more room on the couch.

His hand slides to my legs, rubbing against my thigh and continuing to trail upwards. I slap it away but it comes back, this time quicker. Blood is rushing to my head and I feel dizzy; the sound around me is muted and I vaguely hear the cheers of the other participants. They are goading Kyle on. They do not care about my discomfort.

I shake my head as Kyle plants himself over my body, his free hand grabbing my chin and pulling it up. I squirm and I can feel something stirring against my waist and I am afraid I know what it is and Kyle's lips are on my neck and I am crying and trying to push him away and everyone is laughing and Kyle is keeping me from stopping him and--

Suddenly, his weight is shoved off me and I hear a loud thud as Kyle is thrown to the floor. The boy curses and rubs his head, and I see a bulge in his pants. "Damn it, Chase, can't you see I was having fun?"

"Can't you see that she's clearly uncomfortable?" Chase retorts, scowling at his team mate. "You're literally on the fucking verge of assault. Stop being an ass and know when no means no. Have you even heard of consent?"

"Lighten up," Kyle growls, pushing himself off the floor using an elbow. He looks furious.

"Whatever," Chase ignores him, turning his back.

"I'm not done talking to you, you piece of shit." Kyle spits on Chase's shoes, grabbing his shoulder and turning Chase back around to face him. "You don't even deserve to be on this team. Stupid daddy's boy."

Chase's shoulders tense and in the next second, he is throwing a punch and it hits Kyle square in the jaw. For a second time this evening, Kyle is thrown to the floor. He looks up, rubbing the bruise growing on his jaw before letting out a roar and tackling Chase to the ground.

I cover my mouth as their limbs become entangled as each throws punches and kicks. There is a kick to Kyle's legs. I see Kyle's head snap back as Chase aims a punch at his nose. I see a fist hit Chase in the cheek, his head snapping to the side. I see a punch to his stomach and hear a grunt of pain.

The other guys on the team jump to their feet and pull the two apart, still scratching and glaring.

Bryce is trying to calm down Chase but the latter shrugs him off and hisses, "I went to your stupid party, so I'm done here." He turns to me and his expression softens. "Come on, Eleanor, let's get out of here."

He reaches out a hand and I don't hesitate as I take it.

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Since My Little Decoy is finally completed (hallelujah), Shutter and the Junk Drawer are my new priorities. Besides, didn't you miss Chase and Eleanor? ;)

Comment. Vote. Promote. c:

-Isa