15 f i f t e e n : coming clean

"No, he doesn't hit me," I sigh.

She nods slowly.

"Just, lately I've been going through some things," I shrug, hoping she won't delve deeper.

She still looks suspicious. "I swear, you can trust me. What things?"

I play with my fingernails—a nervous tick for me. I used to bite my nails until I got down to the skin, sometimes even chewing on that, too. "Someone spread a rumor about me—a couple weeks ago. Long story short, I'm not as well liked by some people as I once was."

"Mm, I like long stories." She crosses her legs and leans back on my throw pillow.

I play around with my curls. I don't know if I can trust her yet.

…

Well, what have I got to lose?

"Okay. So, right now we're in Clarenton county."

"Yes, I can read a GPS."

I roll my eyes. "It's relevant to the story." So shut the fuck up and listen. After moving to one of my beanbags, I continue. "Some weird, basement-residing, Cheeto-munching,--"

"Your point?" she asks, unimpressed.

"—lowlife is operating a drama account, based solely on embarrassing teenagers in this area. The handle is @clarentonsecrets. I had been aware of the horrible, embarrassing bullshit that this account posts daily, but sadly, it took a blog post about me to convince me to take the bitch down."

Then, she asks about the information that I was avoiding relaying. She crosses her arms. "What was the post about?"

I sigh, thumbing the hem of my shirt. "Someone doctored a picture of me and spread the rumor that I allegedly let some guys run a train on me at a party." I jumble out the words at record speed, hoping she just accepts the gibberish and moves on.

She wrinkles her nose. "So, someone spread a rumor that you let some guys fuck you at a party? Damn, girl."

"You say that like it's a complement," I chuckle—not genuinely in the slightest.

"Well, where I come from, people usually mind their own fucking business," she snaps.

Maybe I should recruit her to mission "uncover the clarentonsecrets bitch"—it's a working title…

She continues. "Also, this would be a bit of an accomplishment, which is why my first instinct was to applaud you. But it seems like you're embarr—"

"I have a boyfriend, remember? And we went to the party together," I remark bluntly.

"Right," she sighs. "And in this town, in the middle of nowhere, I can guess that the people are… less open and accepting."

"Hey! Wait, you're kind of right," I scratch my chin. "But there's a big difference between being ashamed of sexual liberation and being horrified to hear vicious and blatant lies being spread about you."

She nods. "You're right." Dangling her feet over the edge of the bed, she smirks. "So, how are you getting the bitch?"

I shrug. "I'm not sure. Some friends and I are ironing out the details tomorrow. We're meeting at one of their houses. You should come."

"Of course. I'll take an uber."

"See—downside of city living," I chuckle.

She rolls her eyes and walks over to my closet. "So, back to more important matters." She fingers the hangers, humming in approval or disapproval of each outfit.

"So, my crippling embarrassment and public humiliation is—"

"Ooh, you should wear this."

Alright.

"Oh, I just got that. I've been saving it for when I'm confident enough, though."

"Oh, please. Wear it! You've definitely got the body for it," she hands me the hanger, a little roughly I might add.

I head over to the bathroom to try it on again. "Just look for anything you like," I call out.

The black bodycon dress fits me like a glove. The spaghetti straps are silky against my skin, complimenting my round shoulders. It's simple but elegant. From my jewelry caddy, I pair the dress with a gold-plated choker and my favorite hoop earrings.

I turn the knob of the bathroom door, only to feel the knob lock in place. "Uh, Claire?"

"Ye-Yeah, just hold on a minute. I'm pulling the zipper up," she says, muffled behind the door.

What's with her? Shit. I forgot to confront her about what happened earlier. Maybe it's best left alone.

A few moments later, she opens the door for me. "How do I look?" she beams.

"Wow, Claire. You look dashing," I smirk.

"Wha? Me?! You… I could do nasty things to you, girl."

"Haha," I chuckle, "We both look hot."

We spend much more time than necessary patting down our dresses and admiring our looks in my body-length mirror. She picked out my green and blue ombre midi dress. It has a cinched waist with ruched lining, accentuating her features.

"So, what exactly did the picture on that blog show?" she pipes up.

I scratch my neck. "Just the bare neck and torso of someone that looks a bit like me," I shrug. "From the image, you couldn't tell who was pictured. Also, she has nipple piercings. I don't."

"She sounds badass."

I snap to her. "Badass? She's willingly letting horrible rumors about me spread. If she wants naked pictures of herself out there, then she can do that… just don't let someone else take the fall."

Claire nods understandingly.

"Here." I hand her a pair of slightly worn white sneakers.

She wrinkles her nose. "I was thinking more of a white wedge… and a little less beaten up."

I roll my eyes. "Parties like these get wild. Wearing any type of heel would bring you a pain worse than hell. Also, with the booze and dirt and shit, these are our best bet."

Has she never been to a party before? Well, maybe she's wise in that department. Parties likely end in regret.

I tie my curls into a sleek low bun, as Claire runs my flat iron over her curly blue strands.

Finally, she mutters, "Ready?"

"Yep."

We file into my car, and I type in the address that Jake sent me.

"Wait, wait. Let's stop here."

"What? Why?" I ask.

"We can take the subway from here to get to the party. We'll never find parking," she shrugs.

I pull into a parking spot, then we charge down the damp black steps.

"Did you bring ca--?"

In the corner of my eye, I see Claire hopping over the metal fare receiver.

"What are you doing?" I whisper yell.

"Shh," she continues down the second flight of steps.

I pay the $2.50 and go through the automatic doors. I catch up to her on the platform—thanks to the absence of heels.

"Do you make a habit of this?"

"Hmm?" she asks nonchalantly.

"Breaking the law, stealing?" I cross my arms. Who knew my new friend was a criminal?

"It's the subway," she shrugs.

As if that explains everything.

Soon, our train approaches the platform.

* * *

"Admission!"

"HUH?" I shout. It's loud as hell, and there's a bouncer?

"Admission," he clarifies.

Oh, he's asking for money. "How much is it?" Claire shouts.

"$30 for girls, $40 for guys," he barks.

Claire glances at me expectantly. I just shrug and cross my arms. "I didn't know there was an admission fee. Who owns this place?"

"I'm not at liberty to disclose that," the guard says coolly.

Someone with a tall and built figure brushes through the crowd until he reaches the front doors.

"You see, we were invited," I stammer.

"She's right," the guy says. "They're with me."