Everyone thinks of them in terms of poisoned apples and glass coffins, and forgets that they represent girls who walked into dark forests and remade them into their own reflections.
—Seanan McGuire, Indexing (Indexing #1)

Epic Summer To Do List B4 I Turn Eighteen:
#7: Dye my hair. Midnight blue or get platinum blonde tips, so many choices...

          "Hi, this is Reyna's voice-mail. You've got two options; call me later or leave a message after the beep."

           BEEP.

           I take a deep breath. "This is the last time I'm going to call you or even try to contact you. I don't know what I've done this time or what's up with you but this is just messed up. Why the hell aren't you talking to me? What the hell happened? When you're ready to talk to me, talk to me, I'm not going to keep calling you."

          I throw my phone to the side. It lands on my pillow, bounces once and just lays there. I sigh and turn my attention back to my reflection.

          I'm not vain by a long shot although I know that I fit into the definition of beauty according to society. But then again, how am I meant to care about this when I cringe anytime I look into the mirror?

          I glare at the sight of my naked body. 5'11 feet tall of bones and no muscle. Long neck, extremely narrow shoulders, devastatingly long and skinny legs with a pair of chopstick arms. The tell tale sign of ribs protruding with every breath I take, narrow hips and a bust that is nonexistent.

          I stare at my chest for a moment. I wonder if I can get a boob job done this year- I'm turning eighteen and Father can't say no to me this time. I mean, I could just use my college fund. It's not like I'm ever going to get accepted into college anyway.

          I take in another breath and watch the prominent outline of my ribs poke out to the surface. I frown and walk away from the mirror, hugging myself.

          The door opens and I turn to look at the intruder. Galina, my newly acquired body guard, ogles me. I raise an eyebrow and let my hands drop from my body. According to my old psychiatrist, Dr. Manon Gaspard, apparently you can look sexy even when you don't feel it and it's meant to be a good confidence builder or some deep shit like that.

          "Yes Galina?" I sigh, turning away from her shocked eyes to pick my favourite pair of lacy underwear from the pile on my pillow. I quickly wear it, practically jumping into it. "What's up?"

          The distinct sound of the door being slammed hit my ears. "I'm worried about how comfortable you are wit me standing here," she says, forgetting to add emphasis on the "th" sound in with.

          I shrug, turning to look back at her as I wear my sports bra. Even A cups are too big for me. I'm in serious need of boobs. "I went to boarding school for a while," I explain.

          There's a beat of silence as she stands close to the door. "...I do not understand?"

          "Well," I clear my throat and look away from her to wear a pair of black skinny jeans. "I was in boarding school for a while. Like last year, before I started going to this stupid high-school close by," I look back at her to see if she's following the tale.

          As always, Galina looks more than interested in hearing the story. She nods for me to go on. I obey her. "Anyway, he shipped me off to Canada. It was an all girl's school. Anglican. Something about me needing God and holy water in my life. It wasn't bad, actually, it was quite fun. I liked it."

          "If you liked it, den why are you not attending dee school anymore?" Galina inquiries, leaning against the door.

          I fight to keep a smirk off my face. It doesn't work out. "I got caught screwing around with another girl in an empty class room during lunch. It would have been suspension but I kept skipping Bible study and I smuggled in some cigarettes amongst other things... so, yeah. I got expelled."

          Galina raises a red eyebrow. "...And you are proud of dis?"

          I sit down on my bed, narrowly missing my phone as I jam my feet into a pair of black Timbaland boots. "Well, yeah. It was an accomplishment. I was her first, you know?"

          Galina facial muscles tighten but she doesn't say anything regarding my sexuality. So far, I know she doesn't approve of many things like my lifestyle, the way I dress, the way I eat, how messy my bedroom is, etcetera, but she doesn't bother to ever voice out her opinions.

          Which is good. Father is enough. Reyna's mother was more than enough. I don't need Galina getting on my nerves too.

           "Okay Galina," I say, standing up. I adjust my plaid shirt and make my way to my full length mirror, mascara tube clenched in my palm. "So, you see, Dad went out on a business trip to New York..."

          I pretend like I'm not in pain at the thought of him leaving without me under the excuse that I'm grounded. I mean, Reyna is currently in New York. I could have dropped by to surprise her with a box of chocolates. After slapping her with a rubber chicken for ignoring me, of course.

          "No, you are not leaving this house. You are still grounded," she frowns at me and I roll my eyes at her through the mirror.

          I brush the mascara wand over my eyelashes. "Don't be boring. He won't know; the staff here doesn't snitch although they eavesdrop on a daily. You can even go with me; it's just to dye my hair."

          Galina shakes her head. "You can buy a hair dying kit and do it yourself right here."

          "Last time I tried dying my hair blonde myself, it came out orange. I looked like a second hand version of Bonnie Wright."

          Galina shakes her head again like she personally knows Harry Potter's girlfriend. "No. You can wait. Your ban will be lifted in four days."

          "I'm suffocating in this house. It's been forever since I've inhaled basic fresh air. I'm even done watching seasons 1-3 of The Big Bang Theory and I'm just bored," I say but it comes out sounding more like a whine. I wince at my tone. Cute doesn't suit me.

          Galina seems to agree because she still isn't swayed. "I am sorry Scarlett but your Fader gave me explicit orders. And I cannot disobey."

          I roll my eyes. I'm surrounded by whores for rules. It's depressing.

          "Why don't you call a friend over? I'll let it slip since, you are not leaving your room or dee premises," she says and sends a not so conspicuous wink my way.

          I back the mirror in order to face her. "I don't have friends."

          "Is that why your phone is always vibrating?"

          I roll my eyes. "I go to a school filled with spam artists," I shrug. "My so called best friend is ignoring me and I don't know why. Plus the only person who I actually talk to is a twenty two year old guy who owns a tattoo parlour and talks like an asshole."

          "Birds of dee same feader," she muses out loud. I scowl at her words. She nods before speaking again. "Den tell him to come over."

            I shake my head. "Are you insane? There's no way I'm letting that guy into my world."

           "And why not?" She raises an eyebrow. "Your freckles sparkle whenever you speak to him."

          "It's the weather making my freckles "sparkle" and I've only spoken to him, like, thrice. I hardly know the dude," I glare at the smug smile on her lips. "So no."

          She nods like she could care less. "Whatever makes you happy," she sighs and sits down on the floor, blocking the door. "Den you can keeping telling me riveting stories about your past."

          "Roadblock," I mutter loud enough for her to hear me. I huff and turn away from her to look at my window. It's large enough for someone to jump out of but Father got burglary bars installed. Plus it's more than a ten feet jump so I can't even try it.

          I sigh, resigning myself to my fate. "If Ian comes over... will I be able to finally leave my room and actually remember how the kitchen looks?"

          She nods. "Yes. You'll be able to leave your room but you cannot walk out dee front door."

           I purse my lips. "Deal," I spring myself over to my bed and quickly pick my phone before calling him.

          He picks on the fourth ring. "Hello?"

          I pause. Since when does Ian sound like a girl? "...Ian?"

          "No. This is Freya," she says and her tone is suddenly far from friendly. "Ian is currently cooking me lunch so you can leave a message for him, SAB."

          I frown at her tone. And did that asshole really save my name as Scarlett Anderson Bitch in an abbreviation? "Yes. Tell him that Scarlett called with an invitation that he should come over to my place-"

          "Oh no, listen to me girl-"

          "And buy some blonde hair dye for me because I want to dye my hair and I think he's a pro when it comes to that."

          She's silent for a split second. Then she chuckles. "Ian knows how to dye hair, yes. But listen. I understand that Ian has found a way to string you along. Trust me, he does that to almost every girl he meets. But take this piece of advice from me; from girl to girl, my brother isn't relationship material."

          "I'm cool with that," I chuckle under my breath as I store this little piece of information for possible future reference. So Ian Ross is a player? A generic fuckboy? Why am I not surprised? "But honestly, I just want to dye my hair so-"

          "Wait. So you're trying to say that you don't like my brother?"

          It's not even September and I'm already learning new things. Way more than I bargained for. "Brother? I thought you were being a territorial girlfriend or something."

           "You still haven't answered my question, lady."

          Suddenly, I hear a voice speaking in the background. It sounds like Ian. I sigh in relief. Talking to a female Ian? I think I can do without that.

          "Um, Freya? Why are you with my phone? I told you, I deleted Subway Surfers ages ago, Christ," he says.

           "Why the heck would I be trying to play Subway Surfers on your phone?" Freya snaps back. "Wait. Don't answer that. Who is SAB?"

           "Some entertaining girl I met a few weeks back, why?"

          "She's currently on the line, listening to us talk."

          "Oh shit," He says and suddenly, I can hear him loud and clear. "Scarlett, hey. Well this is an awkward surprise."

            "You clearly haven't been an awkward situation," I quip and he chuckles although it sounds a bit strained. "Nice to know that I'm entertaining though."

          "Why are you calling me?"

          I scowl at the question. "I was wondering if you could... come over."

          "What?" He says. He sounds surprised. I don't blame him; I'm also stunning myself. "We haven't even gone on a first date."

          "We won't," I assure him. "I want to dye my hair. And I feel that you could help."

          "You want to dye your hair?" He sounds confused. "Why?"

          I shrug although I'm aware that he can't see it. "Because it's my hair and I can do whatever I want with it."

          Like an light switch, his attitude flickers. I can practically feel the way he's no longer willing to be friendly. "Well, I'm busy, so, I can't dye your hair."

          "You petty ayy eff idiot," I groan. "You're far from busy. You aren't even at work."

           "So? I've got a thirteen year old to take care of," he says and I can practically see him roll his eyes. "Plus, it's my choice to decide if I want to be available or not so boo hoo."

            "Well no worries. I can always get some other hot guy to do my hair," I say. The words process in my ears. I quickly slap a palm over my mouth, eyes wide.

          Ian doesn't overlook it. "Well, at least you're no longer in denial about how you really see me."

          "Fuck off," I huff. A low chuckle is my reply. I frown and continue with my little plan to make him come over, preferably with gloves and a box of hair dye rather than a condom and viagra. "It's on the bucket list though."

           "Lies," Ian says. "That's so mainstream. You could have dyed your hair ages ago at any point."

          "I did try but it was orange and I didn't look good as a ginger," I sigh. "Plus what do you mean by 'that's so mainstream'?"

          "When I was your age, do you know what I did?"

          I try not to snicker at the fact that he sounds like my Father going through a throwback. "No, but I'm guessing you're about to tell me."

          "I went sky diving. I went on a hike. Went camping all alone in the woods for a week. Got put in a cell about two times. Have you ever slept in a cell?"

          I frown. "No. Okay, so what, why are you telling me this?"

          "I'm using this as a way to tell you that your bucket list is boring to the bone," he replies without missing a beat.

          ...I'm honestly feeling insulted. I mean, why wouldn't I be? This is the same guy that practically wazzed his jeans when I drove past a yellow light. The hell?

          I huff as I pull out the piece of paper that contains my bucket list from it's position under my pillow. I look down at it.

  
Epic Summer To Do List B4 I Turn Eighteen:

#1: Get an effing tattoo from The Canvas.
Edit: get an effing tattoo from any other tattoo parlour because Ian Ross is the asshole-est of them all ✔

#2: Annoy a Starbucks employee. Buy ten different Venti drinks. Drink all of them under thirty minutes, right there ✔but Ian Ross took one so it was nine.

#3: Get my ears and belly button pierced bc why the hell not? ✔They still hurt like cramps.

#4: Tell Aakrati to go suck a flaccid dick ✔did it, felt like shit, Reyna didn't give a shit and Ian Ross bought me a mocha.

#5: Take the almighty couples food challenge at Pedro's Pizzeria all alone- and win ❌ Food challenge doesn't exist anymore but I still ate tons of pizza (with Ian Ross ugh) because why not?

#6: Shoplift.
Edit: Stay home due to the fact that I'm "grounded" and Father has hired a hulking beast of a woman to guard my room door. And my pepper spray has been confiscated so I can't even try to escape. Yay✔ but the shoplifting part has to be done later.

#7: Dye my hair. Midnight blue or platinum blonde tips, so many choices...

#8: Go skinny dipping

#9: Break through security to dance on the Hollywood sign

#10: Graffiti-tize a random wall with spray paint

#11: Dance (ballerina style) to any random beat in the streets and defeat your demons

         I purse my lips as I read through the tasks. I frown. Okay, maybe he's a bit right. Most of these things are done on a daily basis by other people on a regular day.

          But then again, most of these kids don't have Father's who take their public image very serious. And some of these kids also don't get hounded by a photographer who manages to recognize them despite the fact that they try to keep out of the spotlight.

          "Is skinny dipping daring enough?"

          He chuckles. "At what time?"

          "I didn't specify on the list. Um, night?"

          "Or in broad daylight at Venice beach because you're just that daring and yes, I did that once," he brags. I bite my tongue to stop myself from asking him if he did it before he transferred his cock to his personality.

          I huff in reply as he continues to talk. "See? Your list is boring. I'm sure the most daring thing you've got on that list is something to do with the Hollywood sign which, on it's own, is kind of impossible."

          I let my silence answer him. He laughs even harder. "Oh my God. And what do you plan to do on it? Dance on it? Take a selfie?"

          "Okay, whatever, shut up," I huff and he continues to laugh. A slight blush blooms across my face and I ignore the way Galina laughs from her post at my door.

          "Look, let's do this. I'll write you a better bucket list. And when you're finally lifted off your ban, you come over to The Canvas and look it over. But then again, it's your choice," he says and suddenly, I can hear a female voice in the background.

          "OH MY GOODNESS IAN, THE KITCHEN IS ON FIRE!" Freya shrieks.

          "FUCK!" Ian screams and I pull away the phone from my aching ear. I'm aware of the sound of a phone dropping to the ground along with a slight crack, tons of screaming and "GET THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER YOU IDIOT! HOW CAN YOU BURN NOODLES?! WHO DOES THAT?!"

          It's morbid but I can't help laughing. I cut the call and ignore Galina's questioning gaze as I tear my bucket list into shreds, throwing the pieces in the air. They rain down on me like confetti.

          I don't even bother to text Ian with a suggestion about how he could just send me a picture of his revamped version of my bucket list rather than his idea of making me go over to his tattoo parlour and go over it with me.

          Screw my hormones but I've always had a thing for boys who like to break hearts.

To be (heavily) edited.