Blind to Beauty

Chapter Two

 “That's always seemed so ridiculous to me, that people want to be around someone because they're pretty. It's like picking your breakfeast cereals based on color instead of taste.” ― John Green, Paper Towns

     When I got back home after dropping Seamoore off at the café, I ran straight to my room and turned on my curling iron. Lacey had texted me earlier saying that there was going to be a party at Brice Peters house at eight tonight. His parents were gone for the weekend and missing the opportunity of having a  party people will talk about for the next week would be ridiculous; at least in the minds of your typical teenager.

     I have never been one for parties, but Lacey wanted to go to prove to her ex that she could have fun without him. Since he was Brice’s best friend the chances of him being there were pretty high up on the list. According to Lacey they had broken up because Scott, her ex, was having eyes for some cheerleader. Knowing Lacey she was probably just sick of him being spineless and going along with whatever she wanted.

      Lacey claims that the perfect man for her would be someone who will stand up to her and in the middle of a fight will grab and kiss her roughly. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that only happened in movies so I would nod in agreement. I knew agreeing with her would just encourage her to continue with her extreme fantasies of finding this perfect guy, but I had to admit it was pretty funny listening to her rant.

     My phone rang, and I instantly pulled it out of my pocket and answered it, not bothering to look at the caller ID. I always liked to be surprised by who was calling me, it brought a little bit of joy to my day when it was completely unexpected.

     “Hello?”

     “I am in deep shit,” I heard Lacey moan over the line.

      “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, cradling the phone between my shoulder and ear while I looked through my closet for something to wear, “what’s the problem?”

     “You know my sexy black dress with the lacy skirt I just bought at Hot Topic a few days ago?” she said, panic rising in her voice.

     “Yeah?”

     “Well it ripped! I was putting it on and the zipper got caught in the material and ripped it,” she wailed, “what am I going to do?”

     “Wear something else?” I mumbled. I pulled out a bright blue pencil skirt from my closet and held it up. That might do for the party.

     “I can’t! I wanted to wear this to show Scott that I was completely over him!”

      “How does wearing some type of dress making it look like you’re over someone?” I grumbled.

     “You don’t understand anything,” Lacey sighed, over-dramatically, “you need to learn to get a little angry sometimes.”

     “I don’t see the point of getting angry at some guy I wasn’t planning on marrying anyways,” I said, finding a sparkly black top to go with the pencil skirt.

     “Ugh, whatever. I’m coming over. You better have something for me to wear,” she said, hanging up.

     I sighed and threw my phone on my bed. Lacey was in a bear of a mood already. But she did like my pencil skirts, so hopefully the outfit I just picked out would make her happy enough. Knowing her she wouldn’t be satisfied, but she would still wear it.

     When Lacey arrived to my house, she was as irritated as a hornets nest. Her hair was half teased and only one of her eyes was lined with thick black liner. She was dressed in ripped jeans and a red spaghetti strap shirt. Her flip flops clicked angrily as she stomped up the stairs to my bedroom.