Rule #36: No Cell Phones
If we want something done, we do it face to face.
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RECAP: Peyton and Archer have made a truce to be friends. In their neighborhood, there's a barbecue every month. Andrew, Jake and Irene are Peyton's friends from Chicago who have come to visit.
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"Turn around," Irene says, her chin on her hand. "I want to see the back of the jacket. It might contrast too much with the skirt."
"But I don't want to wear a skirt at all," I turn around anyways, hugging myself. "It's too sweet and cutesy. I want something hard and menacing, something that will make people turn away from me."
"Menacing flew out the window when Melody dyed your hair pink." - cue snickers from Andrew until Jake elbows him in the ribs - "And pink is not a menacing color. Not that we can help it. It's the patriarchy. Society associates pink with women and women are associated with weakness-"
"Irene." Jake, who has got to the most sane person in this room, sighs.
"Right. Sorry. Anyways, what I'm trying to say is that we should try to go for a completely different look. Like cute."
"Cute?" I rip the ribbon out of my hair. "Irene, that's the opposite of the look I want."
After climbing into my bedroom window at three o'clock in the morning (Archer had to make two trips since Julia and her friends had to carpool with us), Irene and the rest of my friends decided to wake me up again.
At seven.
To go shopping.
According to Irene, my hair and my clothes were so different from each other it seemed like I was a little girl trying to look mean.
Last time, it only took eighteen minutes for Irene to completely revamp my look - from preppy high heels to black boots - and gain her friendship. Now, it's been two hours and we still haven't come onto a compromise.
"I don't know, Peyton, you look really good as cute," Jake muses. He rests his head on Andrew's shoulder, eyes half-open. Andrew pats Jake's head in return, looking weary himself. "It suits you."
Irene nods, giving him a pleased smile. "See?"
I scrunch up my nose. "No. It'd look weird if I change so suddenly in the middle of the year - people would think I'm being desperate. And besides, I already told you. I want to keep people away from me - this makes me people think I'm friendly."
Andrew suddenly sits up, knocking Jake's head off. "People away from you? You still have friends, right? You aren't doing that same hide-in-the-parking-lot-during-lunch attitude again, are you?"
"Of course not," I lie. "Who do you think Archer is?"
Archer leans back, but still seems suspicious.
All of a sudden, Irene snaps her fingers. "I just got an idea! How about intimidating?"
I perk up a little bit. "Intimidating?"
"Intimidating," Irene agrees, but she's not looking at me anymore. Instead, she searches through the many clothes she's laid, picks three, shoves them in my arms and pushes me into the dressing room.
I sigh. Now comes the part that I hate. I strip out of my clothes, hating the way the cold hair touches my half-naked body, and pulling on my other clothes as fast as I can manage. Goosebumps crawl up my arms as I step out of the dressing room for what seems to be the hundredth time.
Seriously, I've tried on so many looks that you could make a list.
Peyton's List of Looks that She's had to Try on:
1.) Southern Belle: Plaid shirts, cowboy boots and braids with ribbons (NO: no thank you, I looked the girl who cries out 'hello' in one of those horror movies).
2.) Darling of the Sea: Bikinis and sandals. Lots of bikinis and sandals. (NO: too much skin, they couldn't even get me out of the dressing room)
3.) Punk Chic: Pretty much the same about my usual look (NO: I actually liked this one, but Irene completely vetoed the idea, saying that it looked horrible with my hair)
4.) Goody-Two-Shoes: Fake glasses, ponytails, and dresses (NO: even the name makes me cringe)
5.) Sweet and Sugary, aka Cute: A white sundress and a floppy hat (NO: too friendly)
6.) Intimidating: Black jacket, black shorts, pink shirt and combat boots. (no verdict yet)
When I step out, I scan my surroundings.
Irene's nowhere in sight. Jake and Andrew have their heads on top of each and are fast asleep. I roll my eyes and turn to the mirror to see how I look.
So far, this outfit is much better than the last five. The black and pink make my overall appearance seem sophisticated and neat, but still, there's a little bit too much sugar for my liking.
I exhale loudly.
"Why the frown on your face, beautiful?" A southern accent comes from behind me. "Outfit not to your liking? Or just plain unhappy with the way you look?"
I turn around, frowning. A tall women with soft pink lips, caramel skin, and dark brown hair walks up to me. She wears a fur coat and heels that could serve as a weapon. My heart sinks at the sight of her.
"I'm sorry, who are you?" I ask, crossing my arms. Time to see if this outfit really is intimidating.
"I'm Candace Hale," We shakes hands. "Sorry if I scared you, but I just can't keep myself away from such raw beauty, especially from such a young age. I know with your stunning features, you must be asked this kind of stuff all the time, but have you ever considered being a model?"
Ah, that explains the clothes.
I check to see if Andrew or Jake for support, but the idiots are still fast asleep. So, I turn back to the women and say, "Thanks. I'm not really into that kind of stuff."
"That's such a shame. Are you sure there's nothing I can say to convince you?"
"Babe, your phone is phone is going freaking insane-" Irene stops when she sees us. "Oh, whoops, did I interrupt something?"
"Not at all," The woman hands me a card. "Here, keep this in case you change your mind."
Then, with a wink, she walks off, her heels clacking.
Frowning, I flip the card over - in formal script, Beachfront Beauties - Florida's Top Modeling Agency - and sure enough, there's her name and phone number. I roll my eyes and put the card in my back pocket. I've modeled once, when I was in middle school. The whole experience was stressful and embarrassing.
"Should I ask?" Irene approaches me, a handful of clothes in her arms.
"She works for a modeling company," I explain, shrugging. "Apparently, I have the exact talents she's looking for."
Irene scoffs. "Of course you do. They only have two requirements for their body-shaming businesses - looking hot and having no friends. She probably thought you were easy prey when you were standing all alone-"
"Irene," I say gently. She gets carried off like this many times - probably because she's worked in a modeling agency herself, and well, we know what happened because of that.
"Right. Getting carried away. Whatever. The point is, you look smoking hot in that outfit. Agree or disagree?"
"Agree."
"Great! I knew it. Lucky for you, I paired up a couple of outfits with the exact same theme, that way you don't run out. Aren't I amazing?"
"Really amazing?
"Thanks," She blushes and then, pauses, looking over my shoulder. "What the hell? Are those two really asleep right now?"
"I guess so."
"Oh," She looks thoughtful. "Well, I guess I have no other choice but take advantage of this situation. You have a sharpie in your purse, right? Oh and before I forget, somebody's trying to reach you."
Before I can reply, Irene zips open my purse and takes out a sharpie. I walk over to phone, which is on top of a pile of hats, and see that I have three missed calls and seventeen text messages, all from the same unknown number.
Huh.
I try not to smile. Is this what it's like to be popular?
Probably not.
After making sure Irene isn't doing anything too destructive (nope, she's busy scribbling hearts on Jake's face), I unlock my phone and scroll through the strange messages.
Unknown Number: HELL-O PEYT0N -- I AM TXTING YOU 2 SEE IF YOU'RE GING TO THE BBQ 2NITE?
Unknown Number: MY SIS IS N0T CMING AND I D0 N0T WANT T0 BE ALL BY MYSELF
Unknown Number: THIS IS ARCHER BTW.
Unknown Number: PEYTON -- I RLLY NEED YOU TO REPLY
Unknown Number: THIS IS PEYTON, RITE?
Unknown Number: IF NOT THAN I AM SRY.
Unknown Number: U C, PEYTON IS NOT COMMUNICATIVE SO I DO NOT NO IF SHE IS IGNRING ME OR IF THIS IS A WRNG #
The rest are in a similar fashion.
This could only be Archer. As if he didn't give me enough headaches in real life, I think, although I'm resisting the urge to smile. Archer gave me his number last night, in order to ensure that 'if I ever need a favor, I don't need to go through a haunted house to get it'.
I'm not sure how to feel about his texting styles. I mean, middle school slang, emojis and proper grammar are a strange mix. I've never gotten these many messages from somebody.
It's actually kind of nice.
Peyton: Can you stop typing in all caps? It feels like you're screaming at me.
His reply comes in seconds.
Archer: TXTING IS A FRM OF ART.
Even though he can't see me, I roll my eyes.
Peyton: Isn't everything an art with you?
Archer: :D
Peyton: So, what barbecue?
Archer: THE ONE 2NITE. YOU NO, THE 1 WE HAVE EVRY MNTH. THE THEME IS 'CITY FOLK'
Peyton: I don't think so. My friends are leaving next week.
Archer: BRING THEM W/ YOU.
"We should go," Irene says from over my shoulder. I jump. "This could be the perfect chance to show off your brand-new look! Especially in front of Archer. It'd be so cool to have a before or after opinion."
"How long have been looking over my shoulder."
"I don't know, just enough to know to the theme is city folk," Irene shrugs. "You friend Archer texts really weird."
"He is weird."
"You know who he reminds me off?" Irene gathers up a couple of clothes again.
"Who?"
I stop following Irene to punch Andrew and Jake on the shoulder. They wake up with a start - Andrew's forehead bumps into Jake's jaw and they both groan.
Jake looks around and rubs his eyes. "Where the hell are we?"
Andrew grabs a pile of jeans and rests his head on them, falling asleep again. I roll my eyes, but don't try again. Those two are impossible.
"Xavier."
I cringe at his name. "What about him?"
"Archer reminds of him - Xavier. They're both handsome, cocky and rich. Don't tell me you never noticed this before," Irene puts the clothes on the cash register and rings the bell for a store worker.
I take a moment to process this. "Okay, sure. They have the same qualities, but Archer's different."
"Different how?"
I struggle to find the right words, because the more I think about it, the more I realize Irene is right. Archer and Xavier are alike. They both annoy me. They both make me smile (or used to, anyways). Yet, I never made the connection. Why?
"Archer isn't fake. When he talks to me, it feels more...more...more-"
"Genuine?" Irene raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah," I nod. "Genuine."
"Huh, interesting," Irene looks over my shoulder and waves. "Good morning, sleeping beauties - have a nice nap?"
"Not really," Jake blinks. He's dragging a yawning Andrew behind him. "So, did we miss anything interesting while we were asleep?"
Irene looks at me.
I sigh loudly. "How do you guys feel about a barbecue?"
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"Irene, Jake, Andrew, you have no idea how glad I am to have you guys here," Mom muses. "It took me months to convince to take off her nose piercing and only day for you to revamp her whole look? Amazing, I tell you."
Needless to say, my family was pretty enthusiastic about my friends arrival. When they showed up at the door, they showed more excitement than I've ever seen them give in months. My mom has a soft spot for Irene in particular and Melody loves hanging out with Jake and Andrew, because 'they give her a cool rep with her friends'.
"Hey, I helped," Melody protests. "Her hair wouldn't be pink if it weren't for me."
"Damn right it wouldn't," Andrew says. He and Melody high-five each other.
"So, whose house are we going to today?" I say loudly, trying to direct this conversation to somewhere I won't want to hide in a hole in.
"Oh - the McDougal house. I think they have a kid around your age, Peyton. Derek, I think his name is?" Dad looks at me from the rearview mirror. "Does the name ring any bells?"
My heart sinks.
"Derek?" Andrew and my friends turn towards me. "The Derek? The baseball Derek?"
My face flushes. How much do these guys remember? "Maybe."
They look at each other.
"Okay, fine, yes, he is the same Derek," I lower my voice to a whisper, leaning over Melody to tell them what I'm saying. "But, don't you dare say or do anything to him? He hates me enough already?"
"Try and stop us."
I open my mouth to reply, but dad parks into the driveway and Andrew and Jake get out before I can say anything.
"Have fun," Dad calls, while the rest of us shuffle out of the car.
"I can't for everybody to see you," Irene chirps, tucking her elbow under mine. "You're going to render them speechless. They'll be like - man, who is the that chick? I want to talk to her but I am so intimidated."
I laugh weakly, eyeing Andrew and Jake. They're whispering to each other on the doorstep. Melody rings the doorbell. I start to wonder how his parents will be like - just as nasty and sexist as him? Or wonderful people who just managed to give birth of the lowest scum of the earth?
My heart thuds as the door swings open.
"Welcome!" A man with a big belly and large beard swings open the door. He takes me in."Ah, you must be Peyton Monroe. Derek's told me a lot about you. Who are your lovely friends?"
"Irene - I go to Peyton's school," Andrew says, his eyes gleaming coldly. He's taken today off to change into a completely different outfit - green and athletic, instead of his usual punk style. "Speaking for Derek, where is he?"
"Andrew," I hiss.
He winks at me.
Mr. McDougal pays us no attention. "Ah, no time to waste, huh? Come right in. I'll just call him."
We enter his house. The sound of laughter surrounds us as we climb inside. All around us, people dressed in miniskirts and flashy shirts laugh and chat at the top of our voices. Already, a headache starts to form.
"Isn't this pathetic?"
I hum in response, barely listening.
My eyes focus on decorations on the wall. There are deer and bear heads plastered on walls, with plaques under them. There are dark fur rugs on the floor, too soft to be fake. There's a freaking necklace of animal bones above the fireplace.
"Oh," Jake catches where I'm staring. "I'm pretty sure that isn't real."
"I don't know, sweetheart. If Derek's the womanizing piece of crap Peyton says he is, who says the father's not the same." Irene strokes his arm.
Mom walks up to us, waving to some of her friends as she passes by. For the first time, she actually greets me in public. "Hey kids, what are you doing still here? I'm pretty sure I saw your friends outside-"
"Helen!" Mr. McDougal booms. "How have you been? It's been far too long since I've seen you again."
"I know," Mom laughs again, although it seems forced this time. "Ah, well, I was busy-"
"Where did that fur come from?" I interrupt, unable to control myself. "Is it real? Are all of the nails and the deer heads real? What about the rifles? Are they loaded?"
My friends share an alarmed look.
"Yes, to all," Mr. McDonald laughs again. "Have I met a fellow hunter?"
"Peyton-"
"Hunter?" I repeat, nearly screaming. Laughter dies down as people turn to watch us. "Do I look like somebody who kills innocent animals for fun? Do I look like I hang up corpses up in my dining room? No - as a respectable human being - I do not! Why? Because I don't derive some sick sort of pleasure from murdering -"
"Excuse us!" Irene says loudly, tugging me towards the backyard. "She's gotten very little sleep in the past few days. We're going to take her outside to get some fresh air!"
"-monsters, all of you, thinking that your lives are superior enough to go off into some kind of killing spree. As if animals don't mothers or friends or compassion-"
"Peyton, is that you?"
I freeze.
Shit.
I turn around, fighting the urge to flee behind Andrew - who's the most muscular out of all of us - and face Archer. Unlike usual, he's wear jean shorts and a vest with no shirt, leaving his shoulders bare. He also has a broad grin on your face.
"I thought that was your voice I recognized." He says, waving to my friends.
"Peyton get passionate about animals," Irene explains.
"He knows," I mutter.
"I like your outfit," Archer says. "Very city like."
"This is what Peyton's going to be wearing every day from now," Irene informs him.
"It suits you."
"Thanks."
"So, Archer, do you happen to know where a certain Derek McGual is?" Andrew says loudly, giving Jake a pointed look.
I elbow Andrew in the ribs, throwing Irene a pleading glance. She shrugs her shoulders, as if to say 'what should I do?'.
Archer raises an eyebrow. "In the backyard, why?"
"Nothing," Andrew says innocently. "Well, if you excuse me, I'll just be-"
"Hey, Archer, what's the thing on your arm? Is it a tattoo?" Irene blurts out.
Andrew pauses. I give Irene a thankful look, even though I don't know how she knew that Archer worked at a tattoo parlor.
"Yeah, how does it look?" He pushes his sleeve up, to reveal an actual tattoo.
"Wait," I say, forgetting all about distracting Andrew. "You actually got a tatttoo? Since when? And how did I not know about this?"
"Before Halloween. You probably didn't notice, since I was wearing a coat," He tells me, smiling at the look on my face. "And it didn't cost anything, since I work there."
Andrew pauses. "You work at a tattoo parlor?"
Consider them efficiently distracted. I throw a thankful look to Irene, who shrugs in response.
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Merry Christmas!
I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long. Now that chirstmas break is here, I'm going to write as fast as I can, I swear!
(crackers is out on holiday vacation, but hopefully he'll get some treats when he gets back!)
This weeks dedication goes to Nighteshade since she asked for the chapter.
Thanks for reading!
QotC: What's your look?