nine

                                    

                                          
The next morning, I decided I would try to prove to Dash that I wasn't a liability. I would prove I could keep up with him and not go over the edge. 
Of course, I didn't know how to prove that. So, as only a teenage girl would do, I decided to change up my look. I went into the darkest depths of my closet, past all of my workout clothes and boring sweaters. I found a vintage t-shirt I'd gotten at a thrift shop years ago. It was a Rage Against The Machine band shirt. 
I didn't even listen to them. In fact, I could probably only name one or two of their songs. But the shirt looked badass, so I pulled it on, along with a pair of ripped jeans. 
Normally, I didn't wear makeup. But I grabbed one of my mom's black eyeliner pencils, smearing it along my top and bottom lash lines, grimacing and letting out a sharp exhale as the pencil touched my swollen eye, immediately regretting it. 
Afterwards, I stared at my reflection. My face was still a mess, black and blue and puffy. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail that was purposefully messy, with a couple of clumps in the front hanging out. 
Yeah, I looked terrible, but I also thought I looked kind of cool. Like I was this edgy girl who belonged with someone like Dash, who could care less about what other people thought. 
Or maybe I looked like a poser. Maybe everyone would see right through me to the careful girl I'd always been. 
Nope. Doesn't matter what other people think, I reminded myself. Do you think someone like Dash looks in the mirror every morning, wondering if he looked cool enough? 
I left everything the way it was and made my way downstairs. 
My parents stared at me like I was some stranger who had just barged into their house. 
"Rage Against The Machine?" my dad questioned me with a raised eyebrow. 
"Honey, are you okay?" my mom asked warily. "If you're still in pain, you can stay home another day." 
"What happened to 'shirking my responsibilities'?" I questioned her while grabbing a granola bar. 
"Extenuating circumstances," my dad said. 
"I'm fine." I grabbed my backpack and headed outside, ignoring them whispering to each other, probably wondering if their daughter had gone insane. 
The walk to school that morning felt different. I tried to channel the confidence I imagined Dash had, but when I arrived at school, I felt like everyone was looking at me, whispering about me. People stared at my face, at my outfit, then at my face again. I pretended not to notice. 
I reached my locker and began to pull out my books for first period. As I shut the door, I jumped when I saw Dash's face appear behind it. 
His eyes focused on my face, then flicked down to my outfit. He smirked at it. "Rage Against The Machine, huh? You into hard rock?" 
"Yeah, so what?" I lied expertly. 
But Dash didn't buy it. "Are you trying to impress someone?" The way he said the word someone made it clear he meant me. 
"Hardly." I crossed my arms across my chest. "Just felt like a change." 
Dash nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "How's the face?" 
"It's fine." 
Before he could respond, I spotted Callie and Beth approaching us, their eyes wide with concern.
"Blake, what happened to you?" Callie asked, her gaze shifting from Dash to me. As she got closer and saw how bad my face really looked, her mouth dropped open in shock.