I Became Her

Chapter 2 -The Preparations-

“C’mon you have to come,” Yasmine kept begging me even though I already refused her offer. “I will be so bored without you.”

“Then don’t go,” I give her a short answer. I really have no desire to go to her father’s birthday party. I went once, a few years back, and it was horrible. Well, not horrible but horribly boring, just like she said.

Yasmine and I have been friends for years and I do like her parents, but only her father's business partners and such attend his party. So older men with trophy wives in one hand and expensive whiskey in the other. Definitely not my scene.

“You haven’t done anything fun since- well you know.” She refers to my mothers passing. And she is right. I have been patching my life back together and when I finally managed to succeed at that, I had to start and do the same for my dad.

He is not there yet, but he might be one day.

“This cannot be considered as fun,” I say laughing, and she joins in because we both know it’s the truth.

“We can make it fun.” She winks and pumps her hip into mine as she raises the volume on her speaker to give me a little sneak peak of her plans for the party.

“You can’t seduce me with your dancing. Like I said, I am not coming,” I say trying to sound serious, but her silly dance breaks my self-control and laughter erupts, causing her to level-up her dance.

“Are you seriously ditching me?” she pouts at me after I turn the music down again.

“I am seriously not coming to the party. I am sorry.” I pout back at her.

“Okay. Then let’s not go to the party, let's have a sleepover instead?” her face lights up as she announces her new and seemingly improved idea.

“I know what you are planning.”

“What?” She displays her most innocent face when asking that.

“We’ll be two steps from the party. I know you will drag me out there if I am anywhere near.”

“No! I promise. We will eat and watch movies and talk s**t. That’s all. Please please please,” and she is begging again. I wish I was stronger and could keep defying her pleas, but I am not.

“Sleep-over. No party! Just a sleep-over,” I say raising my finger, trying to look firm and stern. I am not though. I already know we will end up at the party and I know I will hate every single moment of it.

Damn me and my submissive nature.

“You are the best!” She squeals, wrapping her arms around my neck, and almost choking me with her overflowing excitement. “We’re going to have so much fun; I promise.”

“You also promised ‘no party’, remember?” I remind her what she had vowed just a minute ago and she rolls her eyes at me while nodding. And that means we are definitely attending that stupid party.

“Go get your stuff,” she urges me to get up from the floor, where I was sitting, and pushes me toward the door. “One-two, one-two little missy.” She slaps my butt at the beat of the army march.

“You can be so annoying,” I whine at her. It’s summer, school is over and, somehow, she can make it feel so much more stressful than school.

“Chop chop now. Do you want me to come?” There’s caution in her voice while asking. After my mother passed, our household kind of fell apart and we haven’t welcomed any visitors since.

I tried to keep everything in order. I cleaned and organized, I did the laundry and kept some food in the house, but it was never the same. Everything was wrong and messy. I tried and failed. At some point, it was just easier to lock the doors for outsiders and pretend we were doing fine even though everything was coming apart at the seams.

“I can manage.” I pretend I don’t notice her wariness and answer casually. She probably knows things are bad, but I doubt she knows to what extent.

It’s not that we are living like bums or worse, I just don’t feel good in my own home, and I don’t know how to get that sense of security back. I don’t know how to make our house feel like home again when the most important part of our home was taken from us. She was the warmth, the kindness and the love in it. Now it is cold, sad and lonely.

We were never considered rich nor did my parents come from money. We were just a normal middle-class family with both parents working and enough savings to live comfortably. But after my dad lost his job and the savings dried up, we have been struggling. With his odd jobs here and there, we can pay the pills, but that is about it.

This summer I have sent out countless resumes to help out financially, but no responses yet. My age and lack of experience are probably the main causes why my applications get kicked out without a second look. They don’t even give me a chance to show what a hard worker I am or how useful I can be to them. It’s like youth always equals stupid, no exceptions.

Okay, whatever. I’ll find something eventually. I am sure of it.

When I reach home, I pack my weekend bag with pajamas and toiletries. I am not going to take my make-up or anything decent to wear 'cause, like I said, I am not going to the party. If she wants to, then I am not going to stop her, but I am not going.

All by myself, I am very confident. Let’s see what my confidence does when she starts to beg again.

I take a quick shower and get dressed before heading to the kitchen to leave a note for my dad. It’s not necessary because he never checks if I am home or not, but it feels what a good daughter should do. I can’t say he doesn’t care about my well being, he is just lost, and it is hard for him to see others around him. It’s hard for him to be around others, but he is doing his best.

Yasmine lives ten blocks from me and walking there takes about ten minutes. However, I need to be by myself before I enter her world of crazy for tonight, so I wander around for an hour. I am not afraid or anything like that, I just need to be alone with my thoughts to make sure I store them at the back of my head and enjoy the sleepover without them popping up when I am not ready.

The preparations are already underway when I walk through the back gate. Catering is setting up tables and coolers, twinkly lights are already installed, other decorations are being carried in and I feel like I am in everyone’s way, so I hurry inside the house and straight to her bedroom.

“Yas?” I call out when I find her bedroom empty.

“In here!” She shouts from her bathroom.

“You decent?” No one should barge into someone else’s bathroom without making sure you don’t have to rip out your eyes after walking in on something you shouldn’t have.

“Never. Come in.” She laughs at her joke that is old, overused and not funny anymore.

I walk inside and I can feel anger and disappointment bubbling up when I see her with her hair and make-up almost done. “It better be for me?” But I know it is not. She glammed up to go to the party she promised we were not going.

“I am almost done. And guess what?” Her cheeky impression means only one thing- more ‘good’ news.

“What?”

“My cousin Duncan is coming!” Her little happy dance and ‘I have a plan’ face can only mean trouble, and I sense that tonight, said trouble is directed at me.

“Good for Duncan I guess,” I answer blandly because I am not going to go along with her matchmaking. I am not on the market, and I am not planning to be any time soon. My life is already a mess, I don’t need another puzzle to solve.

She just winks at me. “Your turn.”

I want to fight her, but what’s the point. She always gets what she wants and throughout our friendship I have learned that it is easier to do as she says, rather than fight her, and then end up doing as she says anyway.

Yes, I am a pushover when it comes to her.

She works her magic and after an hour my dark hair is styled into soft waves, my grey eyes seem captivating with the dark eyeshadow. I look older and a lot sexier. I can do that for one night.

I borrow her smocked top skater dress with floral print to tone down the sexiness her make-up caused. I don’t want some old pervs to get any ideas.

By the time both consider us to be ready, the party has already started, and music mixed with laughter fills the air in the backyard.

“I am not going to enjoy this,” I say before we step outside.

“Me either,” she whispers with a laugh and drags me along by my hand.

“Then why are we going?”