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powders, nail polishes, lotions and face paints, was all my meager paycheck allowed. A black four-drawer dresser with the same silver knobs served as my backup table and sat positioned next to the walk-in closet. Across from the bed, the necessities of life… a twenty-seven inch flat-screen TV and a new PS5-R station so I could keep up with the latest games the guys liked. Myspace was the ultimate place to kill time, or at least help ease anxiety from a nightmare, in case the capacity to rhyme wasn’t there. Anger worked well with the seventh installment of Call of Duty—Zombie vs. Vampires II.
    On the floor next to the TV, my favorite dark purple bean bag chair sat, where I would read, write poetry, or jot down a short story. It had started as a cure but became a passion. So many of my journals had been crammed with doodles, stories, and poems. My dark side, which remained under lock and key during the day, fueled my creativity at night. The darkness seemed to know how to expose my mind all the time and was a quick fix to suppressing my altered nightlife. It was cheaper than therapy too. No one needed to know where my love for writing had originated.
    Draped over the bed, at least ten outfits discarded to the I don’t think so in a million years pile were sliding off the dark purple crush bedspread. The rest of the clothes pooled on a fuzzy black throw rug where my dad’s Rottweiler, Gigi, claimed proprietorship rights. She was dumb but cute. Every now and then she would open an eye to inspect the next item of discarded clothing. Sniff, huff, and then lay her head back down to do what she did best. Snore.
    The timer set for 7:25 p.m. on my cell buzzed, chasing away the monster named Mr. Procrastination. With five minutes left, the reflection stared back, and then twirled in front of the glass. Satisfaction brought a wicked little smile of pleasure from this latest creation. I glanced to the right as if the reflection was trying to tell me to prepare myself. Eyes widening, I took in the condition of the room and looked back at the clock with a sense of astonishment. “Wow. I did all this in twenty minutes? That’s a new record,” I said, positioning a hand on each hip to survey the damage done by tornado Lex-Cee. Mom was going to declare this area a disaster zone, but for the sake of self-discovery, I needed a new image. Time was of the essence. Besides, I’d rather have the room a mess, than me. I waved a hand in dismissal; my ride would be here soon. The plan was to clean up before anyone walked through the door anyway. In my defense, it would be faster to piece together outfits for school without even thinking. Just roll out of bed already dressed. Simple.
    Tod was due any minute. He was my latest and current conquest. So far, we had survived two months, three weeks and four days, but who was counting? Tolerance was a vague character flaw, and I didn’t want to jeopardize the evening by not being on time. Being the main star of the school jocks, others waited for him, not the other way around, including me. We both had patience issues and worked on them. Besides that, he was fun to hang out with. Tod was also tall and pretty easy on the eyes. Trust me, I don’t mind the fact my toes have to help me up to kiss him because his kisses are worth the climb.
    High school would be okay if it were me, a cup a coffee, and a good book. The fact I had to interact with the masses was another story. Not that Alexcia Crystalline Stasis will ever be a card member of the popular crowd any time soon, but my fingers have the skills to stay connected. All the Preps, Socialites, Loners, Stoners, Nerds… pretty much anyone with a pulse… have me on speed dial. Want to know where the liquid flows nonstop, and where an iPod docking system is that blares the latest tunes, then pass me a ten for a keg and follow me.
    If you looked up the definition of a social butterfly, you’d see my pin-up—a red plastic cup in one hand, filled