Today after school I agreed to go shopping with Ellie and Sierra. What was I thinking?

I sit cramped in the back of Sierra's black and red mini cooper. Lucky Ellie called shotgun again.

Trying to stretch my aching legs, I end up banging my knee hard into the cup tray and let out some foul words.

Bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep...

"Everything ok over there?" Ellie twists around in her spacious seat to look at me.

"Just a bit sore," I pout. "Are we there yet?"

"Three more minutes," is Sierra's response.

Bleep. I don't know if I can last 1 more second in this confined space.

It ends up being 7 minutes since Ellie can't figure out how to move her seat forward to let me out. I literally stumble out of the small vehicle, relieved when my feet make contact with the ground.  Oh, the glorious ground and space!

Stretching my sore limbs I ask, "What are we shopping for again?"

"Cute outfits for the welcoming party Sunday night. Robin heard that the new family is moving in on Saturday and that they have a kid our age." Ellie grins while shoving Sierra playfully. "Maybe it's a boy, a really cuuuutttteee boy."

Sierra frowns. "I'm not letting any boy replace my Ronald."

"You guys are still keeping in touch?" I question.

She nods, her eyes sad. "Yeah, at least we're trying to, but it's not easy with the time difference."

"I get that." I hike my backpack up on my back and follow my friends into the mall.

"Yeah, it sucks," Sierra continues as she leads me and Ellie to her favorite store--- Forever 21.

In just a few minutes their hands are piled with clothing. And all I take is a denim jumper with embroidered cherries.

"High Ho, High Ho to the dressing rooms we go," Ellie and Sierra singsong.

I pretend not to know them, rolling my eyes and taking a step back, while mumbling under my breath, " I'm not with these crazies..."

Sierra smiles, managing to take hold of my arm, even with her hands occupied with all those clothes I'm sure she's just trying on for fun. "I heard that," she says.

I'm ushered into the dressing rooms, not at all ready for the trying-on clothes marathon.

Before I even have the chance to remove the jumper from its hanger, t-shirts, pants, and mini dresses are being tossed around the large dressing room. Ellie even manages to get one of the crop tops she tried on hooked over the 3-angle view stand-up- mirror.

"Isn't this cute?" Sierra poses with her hands on hips, lips pursed, and long, dark eyelashes fluttering.

I take in the really, really, really short red dress she has on. It barely covers her thighs and the whole back is cut out.

"It's very cute," I begin. "But don't you think it shows a bit too much flesh?"

She looks back at her reflection, her head angled to the side, dark cornrows tumbling forward.

Pushing her hair out of her face she says, "Yeah, you're right. My mom would kill me if she saw me in this." Sighing, she goes to try something else on.

I leave my back to them as I finally slip the jumper over my head.

"What do you think?" I face them, while still fiddling with the crisscross straps' button.

"It's quite youthful," Ellie replies.

"I agree." Sierra hands me a black and white checkered t-shirt dress. "Try this."

So I do.

And then end up buying it.

Sierra and Ellie grin from ear to ear, obviously happy with their own purchases. Sierra--- a white halter neck dress, which highlights her perfect dark complexion. And Ellie--- a hunter green ribbed sweater with a matching mini skirt.

We're definitely going to show up at this party in style.

***

Sierra drops me off on the corner of my block. "See you tomorrow Shelly," she calls after me.

I just smile and wave, before making my way toward home.

Adrian is slouched on the top stair to his porch, razor-sharp chin resting in his hands, and his perfect lips curled down in a frown.

Stopping in front of him I ask, "What's wrong?"

His eyes settle on me and instantly that frown flips and becomes a smile. "Nothing, was just thinking."

'Troubled thoughts', I want to question, but end up saying nothing. Instead, I sit down beside him and rest my head on his shoulder. I hear him exhale softly, his strong calloused hand snaking its way around my waist, holding me close.

"So what you got in the bag, Little B?"

"A dress for the welcoming party Sunday night."

His hand instantly grabs for the bag and I quickly move it away from his reach. "Uh, ah, uh you'll have to wait till the party to see it."

He pouts, which is absolutely adorable, and gives me the urge to kiss those pouty lips. "That's so unfair."

"Life ain't always fair," I say.

His eyes dart away as he whispers, "True."

I have the urge to ask again, 'what's wrong,' but don't. Because if he wanted to pour his heart out to me and tell me he would've already when I asked him the first time.

We just sit here in silence, watching the sunset before us--- the sky a beautiful display of colors. Hues of red, orange, and pink.

Finally, Adrian speaks his voice rough. "I should head in now and help my dad finish up with dinner... thanks for the company."

I smile while planting a quick kiss on his smooth cheek. "Anytime." Then I'm standing up and skipping down the stairs, my shopping bag swinging back and forth. "See you around," I call over my shoulder.

There's no response since Adrian has already gone inside, leaving me to ponder--- What's up with him?

***

Sometimes when I bathe I like to let the hot water run over my arms and legs until my skin turns red--- red as a firetruck--- like the firetrucks that were rushing toward grandma's house...

STOP!

Don't think about that.

It's not your fault. The fire was not your fault.

Not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault, not my fault.

NOT MY FAULT!

Tears are now streaming down my cheeks, dripping off my chin to join the extremely hot water washing over me. I try to wipe them away, but my hands are burning and sizzling, which causes me to cry even harder. What a mess I am...

A lot of times when I do this, I wonder if there are others out there like me. Others with crazy obsessions to cause themselves pain. Like who else allows such hot water to run over them, till their arms and legs burn?

My guess is no one.

I'm unique. And crazy. And insane, which I believe are the same thing, but who cares--- I don't.

The water has finally started to cool down, a shock to my smoldering skin. Once it's all cold, I stumble out of the bathtub, water dripping off my body. Shaking like a leaf, I wrap the pink, fuzzy towel around me, waiting for the tremors to pass.

I always go from being hot to being cold. An iceberg ready to shatter.

My clothes are already waiting for me on my bed. A long sleeve tee and sweatpants. I quickly change.

Just as I'm pulling my hair back into a high pony, Josh barges into my room not considering to knock first. Obviously, I point that out, "You forgot to knock."

"Sorry," he says.

"You should be. What if I was in the middle of getting dressed?"

He scoffs and I glare at him. "Thank God you weren't. Mom sent me up to get you. Dinner is being served."

"I'll come down shortly. Now leave!"

I'm surprised that he does, slamming the door shut behind him. I was expecting a fight, which now I'm happy didn't end up happening. I'm done with fighting.

Sighing, I finish with my hair, and then sliding on my UGG slippers, I head out making my way downstairs to the kitchen.

***

My fingers that are curled around the fork are stinging. They might not be as red as a firetruck anymore, but they sure do still burn like Hell.

"Everything ok?" Mom asks, noticing the grimace glued to my face.

"Just bad stomach pains," I lie.

"Have you been taking your probiotics?"

"Yes."

"Then it's not the medicine causing it... Hmm is it something that you ate?"

"Don't know." I begin to push the mushy peas around my plate. "Do I have to finish my dinner, I believe it's adding to my nausea?"

"Here pass them over to me," Dad pipes up, "I'll gladly finish them for you."

"Don," Mom scolds, her lips twitching up on the sides, trying to hide a smile. "I don't want you to catch whatever she has. No germs are to be passed on tonight." Her eyes are now on me. "Don't worry honey you don't have to finish it."

"May I be excused then?" I force myself to belch. "I'm really not feeling that great."

"Yes, you may. Please make sure to drink a lot of water and tonight is an early night for you, got that."

I'm already standing up, plate in hand. "Got it." I toss all the remains of my dinner into the trash bin and then place the plate into the dishwasher. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Mom and Dad call after me.

Josh says nothing, but I sure can feel his eyes following me out of the room. I believe he saw straight through my act. Hopefully this time around he won't be a snitch.

***

I twist and turn, twist and turn, twist and turn, and twist and turn again. I'm absolutely restless.

Releasing a sound of frustration, I kick my warm and cozy blankets off, and climb out of bed. I walk over to the lavender bean bag and sit, sinking right in.

A groan escapes from my mouth, as I close my eyes and press my fists against them. Why can't I sleep? Why am I always so restless? Life can be so cruel at times. Especially for me. Sometimes I feel like the world is out to get me. And then I'm like, actually no that's the crazy talking---Now the question is--- is it? Or am I right that the world is out to get me?

I end up on the carpeted floor, my cheek pressed against the itchy fabric, which I'm sure is going to leave a mark on my skin, but who cares. Next, I draw my knees up to my chest and rock back and forth like a cradle, with my eyes squeezed shut.

Fall asleep, I command my body.

Nothing happens.

FALL ASLEEP!

A tear rolls down my cheek. A tear of frustration. A tear of anger.

I'm totally not ok.

Now with this thought in my head, I finally drift off to sleep.