I have boys downstairs waiting for me. I’m getting changed out of my upper-class uniform and into my secret grunge-chick attire
[no forgiveness for her sins, would you suffer eternally]
hidden in a box under my bed. I’ll never be the same for meeting those two guys. Even in our brief meeting, they taught me so much about life without a whole lot of money. Of course, I’ll never know what it’s like, being the only daughter of a stock-market king and a designer (she wasn’t always; she worked in shipping until she broke through), but I hate money and the stain it brings with it. The stain not even the prettiest, most expensive clothes can cover up. I feel that with these guys, I can finally express who I am without fearing rejected, oppressed and obsolete, without feeling the sting of the rich girl’s bitchcraft. Plus the Gerard guy is mega-hot
[that is not who i am, i am not that shallow, how little you must think of me]
and I wouldn’t mind a little something-something with him. I keep a sharp ear out in case my parents come home early, dressing quickly and almost falling over several times.
I’ve seen Gerard around town a lot (small town) and I always thought that somewhere, sometime ago, I’d seen him before. I’d see him laugh and mess around with his friends, and craved that closeness. Now I might actually experience it!
Due to my father’s scrutiny over checking his credit card bill (I would fund my shopping if it weren’t for my lack of income), I’ve only been able to own one outfit that I actually like. But it’s awesome. Smashing Pumpkins ‘Zero’ sweatshirt, punkish miniskirt, DMs. Total lovage. I’ve barely ever worn it (how can I), in fact this is the only time I’ll have worn it outside of my locked bedroom door.
[i don’t wanna be, i don’t wanna be me, i don’t wanna be me anymore]
I thud downstairs in my new boots, still not worn in. They’re in the living room, my new best friends, sitting still, quietly, afraid to make a move or a sound. I have to laugh at their stiff awkwardness, afraid to taint the richness of it all.
"Loosen up, men!"
"Can we go?" Gerard asks, his eyes pleading. He is clearly uncomfortable in these surroundings. I don't blame him.
"Come on, then. How's about Costy's?"