6 a.m.
Alarm blares and the normal routine begins. Crawl out bed into that so-called perfect life.
6:30 a.m.
Turn on the blazing hot water and jump into the shower to wash off the memories of last night.
7 a.m.
Stride into the gigantic closet and contemplate what to wear. Yoga pants? Too casual. Spring dress? Too dressy. Jeans and an adorable blouse? Perfect.
7:25 a.m.
Makeup time. Cleanse the palate for a new masterpiece. Apply the concealer to cover up the mysterious black eye. Add some blush to create a pop of life. Grab the black eye liner and steady the hand to make a straight line. Pick out a shade of eye shadow that will make the dulling eyes have a glimmer of life. Apply mascara for long, luscious lashes. Discover the perfect shade of lipstick to match that delightful top.
8:00 a.m.
Glide into physics class and plop down next to the cute, popular senior boy who partied all night. He goes on and on about how crazy it was and everything that happened. How can he remember such vivid memories of a night lost in time? Start working on a project that will never be finished.
9 a.m.
Glance at Ashley. Wave at her and flash a fake smile. Continue working on project. Daydream for the remainder of class.
10 a.m.
Walk in late to calculus. Sit down at the table full of “close friends.” They have no idea what happened last night. Nobody really knows. The memory is gone.
11:35 a.m.
Lunch time. Go through the line and pile the supposed food onto the tray. Sit at the table full of the kids who only talk about themselves and how cool they think they are. Laugh at the “jokes.” Someone asks about last night. Giggle cautiously and tell them minor details. “Well, there was this party. I went with Kyle, Brady, and Madison. Yeah, there was drinking. Nah, I don’t think I hooked up with Kyle. I don’t remember much about it. It got busted and I ran. It’s all good though cause I like didn’t get caught.” Dump tray full of uneaten food.
12:15 p.m.
Waltz into gym class in Nike shorts and an Under Amour sweatshirt, cheerleader ponytail swinging behind. Run laps. 50 jumping jacks. 10 push-ups. Run more laps. Fix the ponytail. Become a gym class hero by catching the ball and getting Barbie out. Laugh as people applaud.
1:45 p.m.
Hang out at break with all the ladies. Listen to the stories they tell about the party. “What do you mean I got in a fight? I knocked her out? What was it over? Oh my goodness I’m so dead.” Look across the locker banks and make eye contact with Carter. The look on her beat-up face shows pure hatred.
1:50 p.m.
Walk over to Carter. Ask her what happened. “I can’t believe I did that to you! I’m so sorry! I was drunk I had no idea what I was doing!” Look at her with pleading eyes. Hug it out. Walk away.
2:30 p.m.
Look at the clock. Daydream throughout the rest of English class.
3 p.m.
Walk out into the fresh summer air. Search for the cherry red convertible. Unlock the doors and throw the designer bag in the back seat. Retract the hood. Drive home with hair fluttering in the breeze. Pull into the garage. Walk into the house.
3:30 p.m.
Throw the keys on the counter and trudge up the stairs. Plop down on the soft bed. Stare at the reflection in the mirror and wonder what happened to the innocence and purity.
4 p.m.
Walk downstairs to talk to Mom. She starts questioning about that night. “I didn’t do anything. Who told you I got in a fight? I drank? Psh. What do they know?! Oh, so you don’t believe me now? That’s cool. Go lecture to somebody who actually cares!” Storm upstairs and slam the bedroom door.
5 p.m.
The feeling of anger surges. The sound of breaking glass and roaring screams echo off the picture-filled walls. Call Ashley. “She doesn’t believe anything I say! I can’t wait to leave this house. What do you mean she has a point?! Whose side are you on?! Some best friend you are!” Hang up in a rage. Look at the pictures that capture the happier moments. Turn on the radio. Blast some explicit rap to irritate Mom even more. Sit on the edge of the bed. Let the tears flow.
7:30 p.m.
Creep downstairs to the kitchen. Look to see if the coast is clear. Prance to the fridge. Peer inside and grab the milk. Go to the cupboard. Grab the box of Girl Scout cookies. Bolt back upstairs. Lock the door. Enjoy “dinner.”
8:15 p.m.
Phone rings. Answer it. “Hello? Yes this is she. Yes, I was at the party on Sunday evening. Yes sir, I was drinking. Yes, I did get into a fight but we cleared everything up! She’s pressing charges? Battery?! Is this some kind of sick joke? I’ll be there. Thank you. Goodbye.” Take a seat on the edge of the bed. Think about calling Carter. Decide against it. Lay on the bed. Sob.
9 p.m.
Go into the bathroom. Lock the door. Turn on the water. Forget about undressing and step into the warmth of the water. Set head against the wall. Contemplate the meaning of life. Try to get a grip on the situation. Turn the handles to off. Grab a towel. Walk out onto the balcony.
10 p.m.
Get into the soft, comforting bed to escape the world. Cocoon into the cool sheets and drift off into darkness.
6 a.m.
Alarm blares and the normal routine begins. Crawl out bed into that so-called perfect life.