"I look...like a prostitute," I say, glaring at my reflection. My hair has been curled, held back from my face by two skull shaped pins. It waterfalls loosely around me, deep burgundy curls standing our brightly against my pale skin. My eyes, a strange violet color, stare back at me through thick black eyeliner. I am too exposed, crammed into a tight black blue sweater and black jeans. The sweater dips too low, leaving me all but spilling out of the top. Daphne giggles, painting my lips a dark plum color. I grimace at the girl in the mirror, already longing for my large black hoodie and sweat pants.

"You look hot!" Daphne states, adjusting her halter top so that her perfectly flat stomach is showing. The jewel on the barbell in her belly button catches the light, drawing attention right where she wants it to be. She stands next to me, her tall figure making her look like a supermodel next to my short stature. I bite back a bit of jealousy. She looks like she should be on the cover of a swimsuit calendar. Next to her slim frame I note the differences between us that I try daily not to let bother me. My hips are too wide, my chest too large and my legs too short.

I frown, eyeing my discarded hoodie by her bedroom door. Daphne grabs it quickly, dangling it over her trashcan.

"You even think about putting this on and I swear I will light it on fire. I am tired of you hiding under this Goodwill looking trash bag! You have a killer figure! You should show it off more often. Maybe then the boys would see what they're missing out on."

I fake a smile, grabbing the barely-there jacket she has permitted me to wear for the night. I am lucky she even provided me that. I slide the think fabric over my arms, shoving my Ipod into the pocket. I know it will be only be a matter of time before Daphne gets distracted by the swarm of boys that is sure to crowd her and I can sneak off and wait for the party to end.

We arrive four hours after the party has begun, the yard already littered with drunken youth. Daphne calls it being 'fashionably late.' I call it delaying the inevitable. Aka her having too much to drink and making out with some guy on the couch while I sit in the car waiting for two a.m. to arrive so that I can convince her to go home.

"Daphne!!" A loud voice booms from across the room the moment we enter. Aaron Benett, Daphne's ex-boyfriend a hundred times over, pushes his way through the crowd. He wedges between us, slinging an arm over her shoulder. He looks down at me, his eyes staring a bit too long at my chest, before plating a kiss on Daphne's cheek. She giggles, pretending to push him away.

"I've been waiting on you," he whispers. I can smell the cheap beer on his breath, even from over here. He hands Daphne a cup, she drains its contents quickly. Aaron cheers loudly, pulling her towards the kitchen. I spot the keg and his legion of jock friends.

"You coming?" she calls over her shoulder as they make their way towards the booze. I debate going with her, grabbing a cup for myself. I could pretend to be normal. I could flirt, bat my eyes at the already intoxicated baseball players. Hell, maybe I could even get drunk and make out with one. I could be normal for one night.

"Nah," I reply, "I am going to use the bathroom real quick. Go ahead, I will find you in a few." Daphne nods in agreement, turning her attention to the guy hanging onto her. Well, there goes the night. Daphne will spend the whole time drinking with Aaron as he tried to convince her that breaking up with him was a bad idea. That no one loves her like he does. Blah, blah, blah. At least I won't have to worry about her falling prey to some douche who happened to be invited her. Don't get me wrong, Aaron is King of the Jerks, but he doesn't mess around when it comes to Daphne. She could be three sheets to the wind and begging him for it and he still wouldn't make a move.

I slink my way through the mass of sweaty bodies, the sound of overplayed techno music thundering in my ears, and find myself heading towards the back door. I pause at the liquor cabinet badly hidden by the exit, palming a bottle of expensive whiskey as I exit the house. Getting shit-faced is not my thing but I figure why not? It is only ten p.m and I have to find a creative way to waste a few hours.

The backyard is huge, a small gazebo settled in the further corner. I open the bottle, savoring the warm liquid as it scorches its way down my throat. I take a seat on the wooden bench, ignoring the soft moans coming from the bush next to it. Someone has obviously decided that outdoors is the best place to screw and who am I to ruin their fun time? I pop the headphones into my ears, cranking up the volume to drown out the increasing grunts coming from the shrubbery beside me.

"Yea, I heard you were trouble. And you heard I was trouble. But you name is a wave washing over me." The music flows into my ears as I close my eyes, leaning against the side of the bench. I take another hard pull from the bottle. Holy hell this is high quality booze. I feel my head already beginning to feel lighter.

The bottle is ripped from my mouth, the cold liquid spills down the front of my chest. My eyes fly open, a pair of angry green eyes meeting mine. A chill races down my spine. They're green. So green it is almost unnatural.

(Song being played on Ipod: Mikky Ekko "Pull me down")