Hurt Girls Club (Intro)
Dotty Gonzalez is certainly... something.
Dotty's hot tempered, impulsive, and all-round pretty stupid. She sees the edge and instead of simply living on it, she does flips on the railing. She wears too much mascara, hair a truly eye-paining shade of red, and the doesn't seem to own anything that doesn't expose half her chest. She's arrogant and loud and not even that funny. In my opinion if she didn't have such a nice chest she wouldn't be half as popular as she is, I'll bet money the end of her life'll be spent in a ditch somewhere.
If I don't get to her first.
See, Dotty and I are different. Indescribably so. I fear it vain to spend too much time discussing myself, but I can say that I have one thing she doesn't. Observation, half a damn clue, any idea about the people around me. To be fair, it's not not just her. I've always been an observer, a watcher. Though, I highly prefer people in their natural state. Which is why I hate school.
I don't find myself much like anyone here, especially not Dotty. Dotty's red hair lights absolute flames to my dark green. Her short, carefully organized curls put my long head of straight moss to shame. Her body, her demeanor, he social standing.
I am proud to say to say I have almost nothing in common with Dotty Gonzalez.
Almost.
Naomi.
Naomi Hoffman.
My light, my love, my perfect little sunflower. Naomi.
What is there to say?
Naomi Hoffman, a 16 year old girl with grey-blue eyes and slightly frizzy, necklength, dirty blonde hair that I've never quite understood. It puffs out, sure, small strands poking out here and there. But she always looks so put together, you can tell she puts care into her appearance. Her light blush, the perfect shade. Her lips perfectly glossed.
One of the many admirable qualities of my dear Naomi.
But Dotty. Oh Dotty, my dear.
We have one thing in common, one person, one goddess.
And that's Naomi. I saw them meet.
I was around the corner when Naomi went to the vending machines. I heard someone struggling and assumed she'd help them. So very fitting of her, extending a hand. What I hadn't expected was for my poor, unassuming girl to invite the stranger out to lunch. What was she doing? This lady could have been anyone! A thief, a trafficker, any breed of villain that could harm my delicate flower!! I had to act fast, so I did. I came from around the corner, rushing a bit and "accidentally" knocking the soda can out of the stranger's hand. I quickly apologized, earning an angry look and a few muttered curses from the woman, Naomi standing a bit shocked behind her. And of course, as Hell would have it, that woman just had to be Dotty. I recognized her from school, and immediately understood why Naomi had been fooled into asking her out. She wasn't ugly, I had to admit. Standing at about 5'6 (Only like three inches taller than Naomi, opposed to the 7 I had on the small girl), her hair swayed slightly at the light breeze in the air. She looked right out of some commercial for any variety of overpriced beauty product, but I had to admit the color was pretty obnoxious.
In short, Naomi was miles out of her league and obviously didn't realize that, likely deceived by her heavy makeup.
I started conversation and Dotty was immediately apprehensive to me (Earning her no points in the likeabilty department), but seemed to attempt something close to tolerance when Naomi so sweetly invited me along with them. Of course I accepted, though my heart was beating about 10-20 lightyears per second. I mean, I was right there. I was talking to her. She was talking to me, acknowledging me, inviting me somewhere. The gravity dawned on me and I was honored. Naomi Hoffman is inviting me to lunch with her. My fucking god. I played it cool, despite my slightly heavied breathing which earned a few peculiar looks from Dotty, Naomi was relatively oblivious. Such an innocent little thing.
And so we were off.
Me, the love of my life, and some girl she picked up by the vending machine.
That interaction, the ones that followed were.. fascinating. To say the very least.