Kelsie was one of those wannabe-emo kids, who wears all dark colors but acts completely preppy. She had blonde hair, which wasn’t even dyed black. The only thing that made her style match mine was her clothes.

And I can’t remember why I even liked her in the first place.

The thing that angered me about all of this was the fact that Kelsie wasn’t a good kid. She was barely a better kid than me, if you were judging from simply actions.. and were still trying to figure out the whole murder thing.

I looked like a bad kid, though.

Behind my mom’s back, I’d gotten a lip piercing, and, for some odd reason, she’d let me keep it. My outlook on life was more apathetic than others, but not depressed or sad. My hair was black, naturally black, not dyed like the fakes. I didn’t wear eyeliner or anything, but I did wear those screamo band t-shirts, if that qualifies as trying too hard.

Kelsie dressed that way simply for her image, and was hated for it, which was why I acted like I didn’t know her.