Hello again :) Seemed like you guys all liked chapter one, so here's the next one for you! I meant to upload it last night but was very busy so sorry about that, but enjoy!

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Chapter Two

Great Aunt Gina’s death is probably the best thing that ever happened to me.

Now don’t get me wrong, I loved her, and I miss her now. I don't mean it in a bad way, not at all. She had her ‘favorites’ in the family. I mean, okay, so my dad’s brother and his family live over in Nevada, so they were way too far for an old lady to visit. But it was us who Great Aunt Gina came to for Thanksgiving, and Christmases. She’d send my cousins a check in the mail instead.

When I was little, I’ll admit I was totally scared of her. She was eighty-nine when she croaked. A tall, bony lady with thin gray hair and false teeth that always fell out and clacked together noisily when she spoke. But I could see why she’d been some big-shot model in her younger years, when I saw the photos. Even despite her scary old lady appearance, though, Great Aunt Gina had been a genuinely nice person.

She’d lived in Florida, in a big house by the sea.

And when she died, she left us everything.

And I do mean everything. A massive inheritance, her house, and all the vintage clothes and jewelry.

At first, we weren’t sure what to do about it. Sell the property and maybe upgrade to a nicer house in Maine? Keep it as a holiday home?

I still don’t remember who suggested moving to Florida. But whoever it was, they’re a total genius.

Dad looked into it. He found a private clinic near the beach where Great Aunt Gina’s house was, and they were looking for a new doctor. Mom found a nice three-bedroom house with a big garden, and even a small pool, in the suburbs, near a high school. Being a teacher in elementary school, my mom didn’t have too hard a time getting a new job in Florida.

Jenna, my older sister, had already made her plans to get out of Maine by then; she was going to NYU, and she didn’t care if we moved from Pineford, Maine or not. She was out of there, and she planned to stay out.

“It’s so boring. Nothing happens here,” she’d told Mom and Dad when they asked why she didn’t apply to college closer to home.  “Besides, the course looks better in New York. Plus, I want to get out, see the world. That’s not happening if I stay in Pineford.”

 The only thing that they thought might’ve been stopping them actually buying up the house, taking up jobs and moving, was me.

And I could not wait to move.

There was just nothing for me in Pineford. I’d pretty much stopped trying in class by the end of my sophomore year, and it wasn’t like I had a million friends and a busy social life I was leaving behind.

So when Mom tentatively asked me, “Madison, honey, do you think you’d really, really be alright if we move to Florida?” my reply was instantaneous.

“Can I start packing now?”

Believe it or not, I was totally serious when I’d said that. I couldn’t wait to go.

Because moving to Florida meant I could have a whole new life.

Jenna was that girl who everyone knew back at my school in Pineford. She was on the homecoming committee, she was class president, and the blond cheerleader who got the beauty and the brains. The All-American It-Girl.

Then there was me.

And I just… I wasn’t Jenna.

I tried, though, really. And I was happy enough to keep to myself, but it wasn’t really out of choice that I’d never known what it was like to go to parties, be part of high school gossip, to have a boyfriend. I didn’t make myself the lonely loser; it was a spot in high school designated for me by other people.

But moving to Midsommer, in Collier County, Florida, was my big chance to get a completely new life. Nobody was going to judge me by the standards my sister had set. Nobody had to know what I’d been like in the last couple of years.

I could be me.

Just, you know, a better version of me.

*

I pick up the small silver spoon that rests on the saucer with my latte, and turn it over in my hands, angling it so I can see my distorted reflection in the back of it.

I’m still getting used to seeing a stranger when I look in the mirror.

I don’t regret it, heck no.

When I realized I could build a whole new life for myself by moving here, I also realized that this was really the perfect time to get a makeover. Because that’s what people did, right? They moved someplace new and recreated themselves to be a whole new, better person, didn’t they? So that’s what I wanted to do.

And that’s exactly what I did.

Okay, I didn’t have to do anything too drastic. Fatty Maddie had disappeared over a year ago – it was just that nobody had cared about me enough to notice. I lost the braces last Christmas. I’d had contacts since February, too, and lost those hideous glasses.

But when people have this opinion of you, it’s sometimes very hard to change it. They’ve judged you, and they like to label you, and they like you to stay with that label forever. You’ve been allocated a place in their society, and that’s where they want you to stay.

So even when I lost weight, even when I had my braces taken off, even when I started wearing contacts simply because they were more convenient than glasses, nobody cared. People can be shallow and superficial, but sometimes they’re too selfish to care about you.

But it got to a point where I stopped caring. Once you build up walls, it’s hard to tear them back down.

Now, though, I do care, for once, what people were going to think of me.

The new Madison is cool, spontaneous, daring.

Looking at my stretched-out reflection in the spoon, I can kind of believe I was on my way to the new Madison.

I touch a hand to my hair – not out of vanity, but because I’m still getting used to having like, no hair. It’s a pretty drastic change, actually. I mean, I had long hair my whole life. On anyone else – like Jenna – people might’ve envied it. But considering my hair was a bland shade of dishwater blond, and I didn’t even have layers or bangs to liven it up a little, then you can see why I cut all my hair off.

Well. Not all off. But close enough.

Mom had flipped when I got back in the car and she saw what I’d had done at the little hair salon in the town.

“What have you done?” She’d gone all bug-eyed and gawped at me. “I thought you said you were just going a little bit shorter!”

But now, I smile at myself in the tiny silver spoon, because I love my new hair. I opted for a short bob, the hair longer at the front so it framed my face. I got some lowlights as well as highlights to try and make my hair a bit less dull. Oh, and the sweeping side fringe that almost obscures my left eye gives it a kind of ‘rock-chic edge’, according to Bobby, my hairdresser. I took his word on that one.

The main reason I did it, though, was so I wouldn’t have something to hide behind. Not so I’d look better – although that did factor into it – but back in Pineford, I could duck my head and hide behind my hair, put in my earphones and do my best to be invisible. I wanted to change. I wanted to try again here, be the new Madison. So by hacking off my hair, I’d have to try. It’d be harder to back out.

I’m not particularly pretty. I’m nothing special. I know that, and I’ve never expected any haircut of makeup or whatever to change that.

Compared to how I used to be, back in Pineford, with the ugly glasses and braces and few-too-many extra pounds, however, I look good. Not pretty, I wouldn’t say that. But I don’t look so drab. And that is plenty good enough for me.

One thing I did strike lucky on when it came to the gene pool was inheriting my mom’s clear, flawless skin. Well, alright, it wasn’t that flawless – teenage hormones don’t allow that. But it’s close enough.

The new Madison is cool, daring, spontaneous.

Daring was the haircut. Cool was covered my buying a new wardrobe – you know, one that didn’t just consist of plain, baggy t-shirts and shapeless jeans to obscure my figure. My parents were only too happy to finance this wardrobe.

I’d have felt guilty if it didn’t make them so happy to see me finally being somewhat like a normal sixteen year old girl.

I had yet to tick off spontaneous, but that’s something I really couldn’t plan out.

I set down the spoon, placing it back on the saucer. I pick up my mug, which is still warm, and  swallow enough of my lukewarm latte that nobody will know I don’t actually like lattes at all.

I pack away then, putting the phone box back into the carrier and putting my swanky new cell phone, now fully functional (and with no more help from Dwight the waiter, I’m proud to say), into the back pocket of my jean shorts.

“Thanks again,” I say to Dwight. I hand over the check, leaving a ten dollar bill, which is a huge tip for only a latte, but I feel like I owe him for the help with my cell phone.

He’s cleaning out a coffee pot when I go up to the counter, and when I speak he looks around and then smiles at me. “No problem. You’re heading off now?”

I nod. “I need to be home for dinner, so…”

He nods, too.

“Well, um, I’ll… I’ll see you around,” I stammer. Then I flash another smile and make an awkward wave before heading for the door.

“Hey! Uh, Madison?”

One foot is poised to step out of the door I’m holding open, and I swivel around to look at him. “Yeah?”

My voice is shockingly calm, seeing as how my hearts suddenly races and my palms turn clammy so I clutch the plastic carrier in my hand tighter. My mouth turns dry, and I swallow hard.

Because, for a moment, I think: Oh my gosh, is he about to ask me out?

Don’t be so ridiculous, Madison. You don’t look that good. You just met. He wouldn’t ask you out.

It calls a halt to all my conflicting inner rambling when Dwight speaks and brings me back to reality.

“What’re you doing tomorrow?”

I blink.

Was that… did he just… ask me out?

“Nothing. At least I don’t think I’m doing anything. Why?”

I think I’m babbling, so I clamp my mouth closed.

“Well, I was just thinking, since you’re new to town, if… Have you been to the beach yet?”

“No, I haven’t had chance.”

“I’ve only got the afternoon shift tomorrow,” he says, with that easy lopsided smile, that goes up higher on the left. “There’s a party there tomorrow night. They do it every year – you know, like, an end-of-summer thing. I just thought maybe you’d like to go. You know, meet some people and whatnot.”

All those rambling thoughts are gone; now my mind is just a blank, and it takes me a couple of seconds to respond. Because 1) this guy just asked me to go to a party and I’ve never ever been invited to a party before, and 2) this guy, who’s actually quite cute, has not asked me out on a date. He asked me so I can ‘meet some people and whatnot’. He’s being friendly, I realize, not asking me to go as a date. But even so, the first point has me so excited I’m incapable of anything else.

“Sure,” I manage to say eventually, a smile breaking out across my face. “I’ll have to check with my parents first but…” I trail off. Was it too dorky of me to say I had to ask my parents?

He grins back. “Awesome. Is your cell phone working okay now?” When I nod, he adds, “I’ll punch in my number. I’ll meet you somewhere before, so you don’t have to turn up totally alone.”

I know he’s just being friendly, but I can barely contain a massive grin, and think, he’s giving me his number! as I hand over my cell.

“It usually starts up around eight,” he tells me.

“Okay. Um. Okay. Thanks. I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow then.”

Would it make me look like even more of an idiot if I slapped my forehead? Jeez, can’t I just form a sentence?

“Bye, Madison.”

“Bye, Dwight.”

As I leave, I’m on Cloud 9. Seriously.

And yeah, I know he wasn’t asking me out.

But at least I made a friend. Which is a huge deal, for me.

And I’m going to a party (as soon as I clear it with Mom and Dad)!

I bounce down the road. Just on the outskirts of the suburbs here, there’s a small strip of shops and things, like Langlois Café, and the hair salon, and the library. There’s a drug store, and a couple of independent record and clothes stores, too.

I’m not sure what it is that catches my eye, but all of a sudden I stop walking home and turn to look at the shop. It’s not very big, and it looks a bit dark and not exactly high-brow, like the rest of the street seems. In big cursive writing on the widow it reads ‘Bette’s Urban Body Art Parlor’.

And the windows are covered in photos of body piercings and tattoo templates. I stand there staring, totally mesmerized by it.

I jump when there’s the noise of a door opening, almost dropping the bag with the box for my cell phone in.

There’s a woman standing in the now open doorway, arms crossed, and she’s looking at me. I gulp. She looks like a catalogue for the place – piercings all over her ears and face, and tattoos over her arms. The soft, slightly tinny, sound of an old Guns N Roses song plays from inside. She’s plump and stout, with graying wavy hair to her shoulders.

“Can I help you with anything, hon?” she asks me politely with an Oklahoma twang to her voice. My eyes widen, and I know it’s rude because I’m staring at her, but I can’t help it. She looks like she should have pit-bull terriers at her feet, and a huge Harley Davidson. She sounds like a really sweet mom who’s always baking her kids cookies.

“Um,” I say, “I’m just looking…”

I turn my head back to the window. I can see her scrutinizing me from the corner of my eye, though, and it makes me shift from foot to foot uncomfortably.

“Ever thought of having your nose pierced, hon?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“It’d suit you,” she tells me, and there’s a smile in her voice. “On the right side, though, because of where your bangs are.”

“Oh. Well, I never really thought about it.”

“Well, you know where to find me if you ever change your mind, okay, hon?” I turn my head back to look at her and she gives me a warm smile.

A nose piercing?

Mom and Dad would kill me. Didn’t they hurt? What if it got infected?

But the new Madison was meant to be spontaneous, right?

And it did sound kind of cool… Plus, it’d suit my new ‘rock-chic’ hair, wouldn’t it?

I haven’t even finished thinking it through before I hear myself saying, “You know what? Sure. Why not.”

The lady (I’m guessing she’s Bette of Bette’s Urban Body Art Parlor) raises her eyebrows at me. “You sure, hon?”

And I smile and nod before following her inside, despite the fact I’m pretty much freaking out inside because a) I have the feeling it’s going to hurt really bad and b) I’m so dead when I get home…

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I'll upload the next chapter in a couple of days, but please let me know what you all thought of it! :)

And if any of you have cast ideas, then go ahead and suggest :) (I'm never that bothered about casting but I know from The Kissing Booth that a ton of people wanted a cast list, so... suggestions are welcome!)

Link to my Facebook page is on the side :)

Until next time! x