“I think you’ve seen otherwise from both Bradley and Brooke. She sounds like Satan.”
“She is. She’s a beautiful Satan.”
“She may be attractive, but no way is she beautiful. Beauty comes from within. I know it sounds cliché, but I believe it wholeheartedly. My grandma used to say that to me as she tried to untangle my wild, red curls. I’d be crying because it hurt so much and spewing how I didn’t care if it was beautiful or not. She’d remind me that it had nothing to do with my hair and everything to do with my soul. Your roommate has a black soul. I can tell without ever meeting her.”
Lily is beautiful though, her hair especially. It’s a vibrant auburn that lights up like fire when the sun hits it just right. Not only that, she’s got a head full of curls that people pay huge sums of money for at the salon. They aren’t tight little curls, they aren’t big waves; they’re the perfect mix of both. The curls flow halfway down her back when she lets them free. But most of the time, she’s either got it in two braids or up in a tangled bun on the top of her head.
Lily’s nearly the exact opposite of me. She’s tall and lean, and I’m short and fat. She’s five foot eight inches, and I barely reach five foot three. She’s got no boobs or ass to get in the way of life or fashion, and I’m pretty much all boobs and ass. Honestly, I’d kill for her bod. Of course, she’s adorable. She almost exclusively wears black, she’s outspoken and loyal, and I’m so, so lucky to have her as my best friend. “So, all of a sudden you’re some sort of clairvoyant?” I ask.
“Yeeessss, my lovely. And I see your future so cleeaarrllly,” she says with a wavy, ghostly voice.
“I’m pretty sure clairvoyants don’t sound like ghosts, dork.”
“Thiiissss one does. I see your fuuuutttture, my beautiful Stella, and it’s got a big, strong athlete in it.”
Lily has always been able to make me giggle. “Stop. You know nothing. If you want to predict anything, predict whether or not I’m going to oversleep tomorrow. I need to hit the hay, doll. I’m beat.”
“Fine. Whatevs. Go to bed like a loser,” she says with a giggle of her own. “See you tomorrow in Life Painting. Ooh, maybe you’ll finally get to see a peen in real life.” She giggles some more.
I hang up on her after that comment. Peen? What’s a peen? Oh, wait… I think I know.
After pulling myself up from my bed, I pack my bag for my first day of college—after all, that’s why I’m here, right? I need to focus on school—and prepare for bed. Just as I’m finishingup, I hear my phone beep. Ugh, I hope that’s not a text from Bradley. I can’t take much more of that.
Alex Emerson, Football God:Hey, just wanted to check on you, Pixie.
Stella:Wait, is this Football God?
Yes, I’m teasing him.
Alex Emerson, Football God:Who else calls you Pixie? Tell me and I’ll kick their ass.
Stella:You sure are in the mood to do some ass-kicking today, aren’t you?
Alex Emerson, Football God:When it comes to you, Pixie, I’d slay dragons.
Oh, that’s sweet.
Stella:That’s sweet. Maybe I should come up with a nickname for you too?
Alex Emerson, Football God:Better than Football God?
Stella:Well, that one is hard to top, but since you seem to be my knight in shining armor, how about Sir Lancelot? I could just call you Lance for short.
Alex Emerson, Football God:No thanks, I know a guy named Lance from high school, and he’s a real tool.
Alex Emerson, Football God:How ’bout Adonis?
Stella:LOL
Alex Emerson, Football God:LOL? Really? You don’t see me as Adonis?
Stella:Can I call you Donnie then?
Alex Emerson, Football God:Sigh. Never mind. We can keep working on it.
Stella:No, I really LOVE Donnie!
Alex Emerson, Football God:Funny. Wait, if you LOVE Donnie....
