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Thursday: What happens when you have a handful of hormonal girls sleeping under one lofty penthouse? So much scandalous shitt. Head bitchh Ari is hosting a sleepover, and to everyone’s surprise, she’s inviting doll faces. But she knows with confident, most of them are scared shut in their apartments to even leave. It’s a true test to see which doll faces have what it takes. Gossip, nailpolish, and a bunch of pretty girls can turn into something terribly ugly.

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oh and look at this rad iphone case that i want
http://www.net-a-porter.com/product/312210

And doesn't Abbey look so freakin awesome in that picture? Oh and I want those boots so bad....


STORY:

I hold the glass jar with an aluminum lid and turn it upside down, slowly watching the raspberry preserves sink to the other side of the container. The goo descends at an excruciatingly slow pace, and I eye the small chunks of ungrounded raspberry. My mum thinks I still eat this shit and so she leaves some at my door every weekend with some of her homegrown basil; and when I say homegrown, I mean an attempted garden on the edge of a windowsill. I eat the basil though, with some tomatoes sometimes, but the jam is like barf to me now. My mum moved to Shanghai a little bit after me because she has no one else, but she doesn’t bother me or anything, she really leaves me to my own business.

I look at the clock and decide that I am now officially late by a perfect six minutes. My Indian-style crossed legs unwrap themselves and I lift my body up with no hands. I grab my fringe purse and walk out the door to the sleepover that every other girl has been biting her fingernails for. The shit and torture some of these girls put themselves through for the head bitchhes is almost psychotic, I swear. 

- - - 

I arrive at the daunting door. For some reason it looks a little larger than usual…maybe it’s the nerves building up. Why am I nervous, I chuckle to myself, they’re just humans. I knock at the door after exterminating every ounce of fear in my body; well, there was just one ounce anyways. 

Ari opens the door.

“Bitchess, it’s a doll face,” she calls to the others with her eyes glued to mine. Our eye contact is maintained for a good minute or two and then I break the silence.

“Are you gonna let me come in?” I ask honestly.

“Ladies, the ghostly pale druggie doll wants to know if she can come in…” Ari calls me again, this time releasing her eyes from mine.

Acacia suddenly appears behind the sharp shoulder of Ari and eyeing me up and down, says, “Let the rehab Barbie doll come in I guess.” 

“Never been to rehab…just saying,” I tell them pushing through them without looking at either of them. I can feel their pupils crawling up through the endless strands of hair to the back of my brain, piercing it with their stares. 

“At least she didn’t show up right on time like the other doll faces here…they were so stupid to show how eager they are,” I hear one of the girls whisper to another, but couldn’t really make out who it was.

I sit on the floor next to the window and stare outside.

“You okay Skye? You look a little lost without your drugs…” Belle snickers along with the others.

“I personally don’t think you’re that funny Belle…” I tell her in all truth and honesty. Her eyes make a 360 degree rotation in annoyance. 

I stare back out into my dreamy zone and think about how much I wish I could live in the stories and poems I write. I wish I could write my life out and control the events that occur. I think about my most recent poem about disguises. I imagine a tall figure with a mask coming towards me slowly with a little grin that I can see through the slit in the mask for the mouth. With every stride in his walk comes a flow of an eerie magic in the wind that blows in the air. I feel like I know this man, as he comes closer and closer I come to recognize him more and more. My eyes squint in the sinister atmosphere so that I can make him out more clearly, but – 

“Skye!!” I hear a yell.

“Dude, what the fuck.” I look around to see who yelled at me, but it’s impossible to know because everyone is laughing…even the doll faces there. It’s incredible how girls will turn on you just for social acceptance, I shake my head.

“I think that the lack of pot actually makes you dreamier than when you are smoking it,” a girl says, I think it was Nadia. I’m not even listening; I’m just thinking about the dark figure. I try to ignore the thoughts and make them escape the whirlpool of thoughts spiraling within the walls of my mind, and I succeed once all the girls get up to get started on nails. I hate getting my nails done, I sigh to myself. Whatever, fuck it. 

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tagging the people that were in this story:
@high-fashionista @xoluxury @theporcelaindoll
@urban-barbie
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