Akila walked home from school with her head low and her hands in her pockets. She hated it at her house. After her mother died in a bad car accident, her father became an alcoholic. And since her mother was a rich scientist who left behind plenty of money, he could afford all of the beer and liquor he wanted. And by every afternoon, he was completely drunk.

Her walk was silent for all but her steady, slow footsteps clacking on the sidewalk. When she arrived to the tall apartment building in which she lived, Akila looked straight up. It amazed her how tall the building was, yet it was so stable. Then she went inside to find her room.

The inside their apartment was a mess. As usual. Her father sat lazily on the couch, surrounded by chip bags and empty cans. He looked at her with lidded eyes. "Akila, there you are," he greeted, his voice seemed to drag and slur, "how about another can for your pop?"

Akila faked a smile as she answered as happily as possible, "of course." Making her way into the kitchen, she opened the fridge and pulled out a beer and a cupcake. "Here you go," she handed the cold can to her father, hiding her snack behind her back. Her dad nodded as if he approved her actions, then she hurried back to her room.

Once alone, Akila let out a deep sigh. She probably wouldn't see him for the rest of the day; he usually passed out on the couch before dinner time. Sitting at her desk, she munched on the cupcake while looking over her homework. "Write a paragraph briefly describing yourself. Make sure it is written in complete sentences, and be ready to share it with the class on Wednesday," she read aloud, mocking her teacher's overly-happy voice.

Now Akila wasn't exactly a popular girl in school. In fact, she was the opposite of popular. She wasn't bullied or anything, not to her face at least, she just didn't talk to people. Mostly people kept out of her way, and she kept out of their's. So when every time the new school year began, when her new teachers asked her to share something with the class, she would do so in a very 'shove-it-where-the-sun-don't-shine' manner.

Fishing a pencil out of her bookbag, Akila began to write her paper.

My name's Alika Slip, I'm your below average teenage girl living in a below average apartment. Those who notice me pretend not to. And those who pretent to care, don't. I'm not sure why I have to be included in this assignment, since everyone already knows I'm nobody. But hey, thanks for making me say it in front of the whole class, Mrs. Frett. You really know how to boost a girl's confidence. Note the sarcasm.

"And...done," Akila said with a smirk. Satisfied with her work, she leaned back in her chair and stretched. Tomorrow would be an interesting third day of eleventh grade.

Bored, she got up and walked over to her mirror. But in front of her stood a stranger. Who was this tall slim girl, with long damaged dusty-brown hair and dark blue eyes, with skin as white as paper? She lifted her hand and stroked her hair lightly. It was soft and dry and warm. It had gotten longer since the last time she'd seen it, now coming down to the bottom of her chest.

Akila wasn't the kind of girl who spent the whole morning with her face six inches from the mirror. She wore no makeup, and rarely did her hair; she didn't care how other people saw her. So she never really felt the need to look in the mirror everyday.

But today was different. A boy in her English class had called her pretty, and even invited her to a party on Friday night. It had shocked Akila so much that she couldn't respond. So the boy, Tommy, laughed and handed her a paper with a ten diget number on it. "Text me later, 'kay?" He'd asked flashing a smile, then he walked off.

Akila didn't get it. She examined her reflection for a while. Was she really pretty? She never really cared enough to notice before. And why would Tommy, of all the guys in her school, choose her?

Tommy was extremely popular, and even more so handsome. He was the eighteen year old senior who all the girls swooned over. Why would he choose her; the one girl who showed no interest in him. The one girl who showed no interest in anyone.

Akila had no idea. There was no way she was prettier than all of those other girls. But even so, she pushed it aside. She'd never been to a party before, so she didn't know what to wear, or how to act at one. Looking down at the phone number that'd been scribbled down on a crumpled notebook paper, she sighed. Then she got out her phone and began to text.

Akila: Hey, it's me

Tommy: Akila? Hey what's up?

Akila: Um, so I've never been to a party before...

Tommy: Haha, don't worry bout it. You just wear somethin nice and have fun

Akila smiled a little, grateful of him not making fun of her.

Akila: Thanks

Tommy: No problem :)

Akila: So would 'somethin nice' be classified as a dress?

Tommy: Lol yea. Just pick out somethin that's you

Akila: Alright

Tommy: I'll see ya there :)

Akila sighed heavily. Did that really just happen? She didn't know whether to be overjoyed or suspicious. But if she was meant to be suspicious, then she failed, because a large grin spread across her face, giving away her excitment.

She wanted to get ready in advanced so she could make sure everything was perfect. Running to her small closet, she rooted through all of her clothes. Finally, her hand rested on the dark fabric of a short, black dress. She'd never gotten to wear it before, since she never went to events like this, but now she could. So she tried it on and was glad to see that it still fit.