**
I woke up with a feeling of total and utter dread. The day was spread out in front of me like an ugly smear of thick, sticky strawberry jam. All I could think about was tonight and all of Brenna's friends, and how Mike was probably going to be staring at them all.
He was going to be looking expectantly at them, wondering if she could be the kisser and potentially flirting, while I stood on the sidelines like some punctured third wheel pretending that everything was a-okay. There was no way this evening could get any worse. It was always the same. Mike with some chick, or a prospective chick and me feeling like a fucktard for even being there.
But maybe I didn't need to look like that anymore? Enter Jarrod.
I caught up with him quickly in the school corridor later that day.
"Hey Jarrod?"
He swung around quickly with a look of shock plastered across his face. "Maria? Hey?"
It was no secret that Jarrod had had a crush on me. Probably the only guy at school and I'm not really sure why. Perhaps it was because in our own special way, we're both outsiders. He didn't fit in. Jarrod was some kind of whiz kid online gamer. Apparently he got paid to play online games and find if they had any weaknesses. He was that good.
We'd gotten to know each other a couple of years back when we were paired together for a science project. At the time I remember thinking that if only, if only, I could like him as much as he liked me. How much easier my life would be? I tired to force myself to think of him in the way that he thought of me and every now and again, for a moment or two it had almost worked. We landed up kissing a few times, but nothing else happened.
"What you doing tonight?" I asked.
"Uh..." He still looked shell shocked. "Nothing."
"Wanna come to this thing that Mike is having at his house?"
"A thing?"
"Yeah, couple of us getting together. Nothing hectic. Just a bunch of friends." I emphasized the word friends, just to make sure he didn't get the wrong idea and think this was a date. But what was this?
"Sure!" He almost shouted the words at me. "Sure."
"Awesome. Meet me at my place at :."
He nodded eagerly and I walked off, not really sure of what I had just done, or why?
The rest of the day was a nightmare. That feeling of dread grew with each passing hour and seemed to follow me from class to class. And the feeling only intensified as the hour hand hit : pm and it was time to start getting ready. In fact, by this stage the feeling had morphed into something that resembled a twisting, writhing ball of absolute anxiety and panic. And as the panic threatened to turn into some full blown bloody panic attack, McKenzie burst through my door. Great, just what I needed.
She slithered up to my bed and sat down, like a snake emerging from the grass.
"Where you going tonight?" I looked at her. This strange person that looked exactly like me, but was absolutely nothing like me at all. We used to be so close growing up, and I don't know what happened. We'd done everything together when we were younger, but as we grew up and the years passed, we just seemed to grow further and further apart until it was as if we didn't even know each other.
"Mike is having a thing at his house," I said dismissively, pulling my shirt over my head. "Brenna is bringing her friends and-"
My sister interrupted me, "Why she inviting those skanks?"
I rolled my eyes. "They're not skanks. You think everyone is a skank."
I hated how my sister talked . So clichéd.
"Whateves," she said, (even more clichéd)
"Are you going to be wearing that?" She looked me up and down like I was some big, smelly pile of dog shit and my stench was making her nauseous.
"What's wrong with this?"
"Please Maria...Welcome to Bermuda. With a palm tree and a coconut and a big orange sunset. Really, Maria."
She got up and started walking to the door. "He's never going to notice you if you keep dressing like a boy, by the way." She exited and closed the door behind her and I thought I heard a small chuckle.
I turned and looked at myself in the mirror. I was wearing a pair of skinny jeans, my sneakers and the shirt that my aunt had sent me when they went to Bermuda.
He's never going to notice you if you dress like a boy.
The words ran through my mind over and over again. But I wasn't sure I knew any other way of dressing. Besides, he probably wouldn't notice me if I dressed differently anyway.
I glanced at my table, my mother had added to the mascara. It's her less than subtle attempt at telling me I'm not pretty enough, and I think she's still obsessed with the idea that I might be a lesbian. I sat at the table and picked the stuff up; lip-gloss, a pencil, a few brushes, some shimmery stuff. What the hell was I supposed to do with this stuff anyway?
I opened my computer and search YouTube for one of those lame make-up tutorials that has a million and one hits. But after a few minutes of watching some bimbo with big boobs talk about cheek
