Spilling

"Have you seen Sam?"

Sherry's voice startled me as I put on the only thing I qualified as a party 'dress'. It was a pitch black, knee length, flared dress with sleeves that reached my wrists. It was the best option among the fifty other pair of ragged jeans, and lousy tees. The only reason it made it to my pile was because I bought it for occassions where T-shirts, and denim pants won't be the best outfits.

"Sam, who?" I asked, trying to pile my hair into another messy bun with a dying hope that the hairstyle would co-operate. But when the bobby pin fell off, I had already given up.

"My boyfriend, Sam." She said, walking all the way in as she rummaged through her dresser.

I looked at her quizzically, and she looked absorbed, searching through her drawers.

"I don't think I know him." I said, and her eyes shifted on me, and her nose scrunched.

"Sam is that guy who was folding my clothes?" She said, running her fingers through her things.

"Wait, what? He is your boyfriend? Wasn't he like- your chauffer?" I said, raising a brow.

"Pfft. I don't know how you'd buy that. I say that to save him from dad, if he asks!" She said, snorting a laugh as she finally got a hold of a book.

Sherry? Looking for a book? I haven't taken her as the bookworm type. Well, I hadn't taken that jerk to be her boyfriend either. Guess life is full of surprises.

"So, you tell people he's your chauffer so he gets to stay with you?" I asked, as if it wasn't quite apparent. To an extent, it felt violating. Her boyfriend saw me naked!

"Isn't that dope?" She asked, her eyes a little mischievous.

"Dope as fuck!" I said.

If buying a ticket to hell is dope, then sure it is!

"Are you going to the party like that?" She asked, eyeing my dress from head to toe.

"Yeah? Why?" I asked, and she wrinkled her forehead.

"The dress would do, but the hair...

We need to fix the hair." She said, looking at me as if she had eyed a potential rising star in dirty streets of LA. I appreciate the enthusiasm, but the source?

"Trust me, I can tame the wild!" She said.

"Look at my perm!" She said, and I eyed the well settled hair. No curl sticking out from her blonde head.

"Okay. Access granted." I said, hoping she stands true to her words.

Sherry had amazed me the last five minutes we talked with what she could pull off. Doing my hair would be a piece of cake for her. Hopefully.

"Now all I need is to get a hold of the latest Photogram hairstyles that could suit a curly brunette!" She said, and I looked at her wide eyed.

"Wait. So your hairstyling tips are straight from Photogram!" I asked, feeling the terrible horror in my hair tips.

"That's where I learnt how to do my hair. Trust me. It would be a great makeover!" She said, and I gasped.

"And you think I am not going to look like a walking bird nest?" I asked, and she dismissed my fears with a smile. Seriously, girl?

"Your dress sucks. Chances are people will not notice!" She said, and I couldn't help but feel offended and relieved at the same time. She had a point. Maybe people would dismiss me as a girl who does goth and coke, and overlook every little flaw of mine. They probably have better things to do!

"Try and make it work?" I asked, and she nodded assuringly.

Fifteen minutes of my life ticked off with me trying to calm my nerves down, and Sherry demonstrating her hair styling skills from Photogram. I could feel the comb running across my hair. The burning heat of Sherry's straightener along the ends, and her frequent 'fuck bombs' with every damn minute of 'hairy struggle'.

"I wished the other hoes were here!" She said, literally on the verge of tears when she set me free.

"Is it safe to take a look?" I asked, and she nodded.

I faced the mirror to see my hair straightened, and combed to perfection. The wavy lengths of locks landed on my shoulders, and the appraisal I had for Sherry's hairstyling skills was mad.

"This. Is. Me?" I squeaked in disbelief.

"You bet your ass, it is!" She said, and I can't help but jump from my seat and pull her into a hug.

"You're the best, Sherry!" I said, and she rubbed my back frantically. Whoa. Maybe she's a little too emotional.

"Now, I will get a hold of Sam till the other HOE-s arrive. If Sam shows up, tell him not to budge." Sherry said, before disappearing in the hallway.

"Oh, how I wish the asshole never shows up!" I muttered, trying to work out how the mascara thing works.

"BOO!" I heard the voice in the corner of my ear, and landed on my butt.

"Holy son of a-" I yelled in pain, when my eyes met his.

"What the fuck? You!" I said, glaring at him when Sam crossed legs on Sherry's bed.

"Did I scare you...Barley?" He let out a chuckle, biting the corner of his lips and I tried not to plan '101 ways to kick a jerk in his nuts'.

"It's Marley! And stop getting on my nerves!" I said, watching the emptied mascara bottle spilling on the floor.

"Great! Now the mascara's all ruined!" I muttered, bending over to get the bottle.

I reached for the pack of tissues, tossing the bottle in the can, and secretly wished I could toss Sam in the trash too! I wiped the floor furiously with the tissue, hoping the stain gets removed. And for the umpteenth time when the black spot doesn't fade away, I flipped a finger at Sam, whose annoying humming was making it impossible to ignore his presence.

"Whoa. So unladylike!" He said, smirking.

"If you got nothing else to do, help me clean the floor!" I said, and he walked closer, bending over the floor with a tissue.

"See. You can always choose to be 'nice'!" I said, rolling my eyes, as he started rubbing the tissue over the floor.

"Where are you going?" I asked, as he stood straight and walked to Sherry's dresser and got a tiny vial.

He opened the vial, and emptied the contents on the spot.

"What the fuck! Why are you ruining it?" I said in hysterics.

"Shut up, Barley!" He said, and grabbed a fresh tissue.

"What do you mean shut up? You are mutilating it!" I said in horror. And the fuck he got my name wrong!

"Really?" He mumbled, scrapping harder.

A few minutes later, the black spot was no more there, and Sam the jerk shot me a victorious smile.

"See! Sometimes you just gotta shut up and let the magic work!" He said with gleaming eyes.

"And if you hadn't been here, we wouldn't need any of your 'magic'!" I complained.

"I saved you!" He retorted.

The nerve of this jerk!

"You ruined my fucking mascara!" I said, seething from head to toe.

"You were wearing mascara to a funeral?" He laughed.

His eyes full of pleasure, collarbone sinking under his Weston High jersey as he bursts into peal of joy, and he teared up a little. The audacity of this bastard!

"You little piece of shi-" I charged at him, losing every sane thought.

"Whoa-Mar-"

Too late. I lost my balance. The gravity caught up on me, and my arm grabbed Sam's jersey tightly. Surprised by the encounter, he landed on the floor, flat on his butt, and I followed. Taking him down by my body weight, and trying hard not to stick to his body, I tried to balance myself on my arm. Only to get pulled by Sam. My lips laid pressed on his cheek.

"Fucking. Jesus." I cried.

"You're killing me for a kiss?" Sam groaned.

"You!" I gritted my teeth, trying to get up, only to fall back into his chest, finding our legs entangled.

"Easy there. Why so horny?" He half wailed, half smirked, and I almost full-slapped him across his face.

"I swear, if you don't shut up, I will strangle you to death!" I threatened him and for a moment our eyes met.

"What the hell is going on?"

I moved my head to see Sherry, standing at the door with a bunch of other girls. What an icebreaker!

"Now, you can put your dress to a good use..." Sam whispered.

"Do you ever shut up?"