School. Has been. HORRIBLE.

Well, maybe not horrible, but it still sucks. My teachers seem decent. The worst part has been this afternoon. They teachers didn't say where the buses were, so me and some friends (Delaney, Olivia, and Kristy) all missed our buses. I flipped out because no one is home or would be for a good 6 or 7 hours, so I had no way home. Thankfully, Kristy (one of the sweetest people I know) said it was okay for us to come by her house so someone could get us. I was thankful, but walking for what felt like 2-miles in 92 degrees fahrenheit in a dark brown shirt, long khaki pants, and new shoes wasn't very nice. And my leg muscles hurt like hell. Ugh. I'm glad I'm home.

Something I wrote on a whim. Weird. Never done that before. Huh. Tell me what you think, I guess.

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A young girl sits down on a coach in her home. She sits with her feet pulled up under her, the evening gown she was wearing bunched up around them, and a cell phone to her ear.

           "Alright, I understand…No, It's fine, I'll be fine….It's ok, maybe we could go out next week, or—" Clara cuts off. She hears a sound, a voice that any woman in her situation would dread. And worse, a voice she recognizes. On the end of the line is her boyfriend, who is supposed to racing back to the office due to an emergency call. She couldn't be sure of course, but she'd swear she heard her one of friends talking to John, her boyfriend.

           "Johnny, honey, who're you talking to? Hurry up, or we'll be later!"

There was a moment of shocked silence, then "John, who was that?"

Another moment of silence. "Uh, it was just the radio baby, sorry. I'll turn it down."

Clara couldn't believe it. She could just hear the lie in his voice. But, no, said a little voice in the back of her head, wait. Give him a chance. Always give the benefit of the doubt.

"Oh, ok, haha." She laughs uneasily, still a little shaken. She shouldn't have been so easy to accuse him. He wasn't cheating on her, he was just really busy. Well, really, really busy, but still, that didn't mean he was seeing someone else. So what if he came home late? His career was demanding. And the smell on his clothes? Just one of his co-worker's strong perfume. He's just a very hard worker with a very demanding job.

Or so he seemed. He'd told her countless times that the weeks he went without seeing her were because of the taxing and insistent nature of his job. True, she didn't exactly know what his job was, but trust is key in a relationship. But…could she trust him?

"What's wrong? You're a little quiet." Clara jumped at the sound of John's voice.

"Sorry, just got lost in my own world there for a second. It was just too weird. I swear that the voice I thought I heard was Trisha's," she explained. Hopefully that sounded believable. She didn't want John to know she was questioning him.

"Wait—How do you know Trisha?"

Before she could digest the information, the other female was talking again.

"What was that, Johnny? Sorry, I didn't hear you."

It was Trisha. Her best friend. With John. When he was supposed to be with her.

"How dare—" Clara started, about to call John's foul, but she never got the chance.

It happed fast. Trisha screamed. Tires squealed. A crash. Then, nothing. Just the dial tone.

Clara was called in to the police station the next day to help confirm the identities of her friends' corpses. She broke down right there, next to the bodies, as she realized that she was the one who heard their last words. And they were words of treachery, adultery, and lies. All against her.

Stabbed in the back, and staked through the heart, Clara picked herself up and drove herself home.

How completely odd. We were talking about prom dress and, next thing I know, I'm picking my own outfit. Huh.

It's actually kind of pretty, really. It's a strapless dress, knee-length, and dark red. A pink sash, tied into a bow on the side, rests on the waist. It's truly a pretty thing. Here's a link, if it works. I'm not sure on shoes, But I'd love something with heels, maybe strappy, or lace-up (as in, lace wrapped up my leg), but definitely red or black. Here's a shoe that I like and would definitely consider.  Or, maybe this. I don't know. And maybe a necklace, too....Or maybe this dress.....



Gah. Whatever. I've gone strangely girly. And I don't know if it's a good thing or not.