Monday passes by in a blur. I don't talk to Harry, but Harry doesn't try to talk to me. But he does text me one follow up question right before the test.

I get my grade from Ms. Walkins after I finish the test first. A 95. Woohoo, my final A.

When the final bell rings, I shove all my stuff into my bag without organization and then leave.

I'm stopped suddenly when someone tugs on my wrist, expecting the worst, I'm pleasantly surprised to see Harry standing there.

"An 88! I got an 88!" He grins widely.

I gasp happily. "Congrats, Styles! I knew you had it in you!"

"I couldn't have done it without you, thank you so much!" He picks me up in a hug and spins me around. I laugh, elated.

"I'm proud of you. Now you can keep playing soccer, right?"

"Hell yeah. Again, not without your help. Thanks Beck, I needed you." He gives me his little kiddy grin and I smile back.

"I better get going. Bye!" And then I walk away. Forever.

I'm standing in my bathroom in front of the mirror after school. I study all my flaws. My too-thick, stupidly-straight blonde hair is the first thing. It's not even like good blonde. Just this crappy honey-colored thing, like it tried to be brunette and failed.

Then my eyes. Totally plain brown. Nothing special about them. And they're huge. The bad-huge.

My skin sucks. It's pimply and pale and scratchy. I hate it.

My lips are annoying. They seem lopsided. And they look off when I put lipstick on them, since they're already this annoying-rosy pink.

My build is awful. My boobs are ridiculously small, my hips are pudgy, and my stomach isn't nearly skinny enough.

No wonder Harry doesn't like me...

Okay, I sigh to myself. I just need to get this done quickly. Like pulling off a band-aid.

Except, instead of pulling off a band-aid, I'm ending my life.

I grab the bottle of vodka and a thing of painkillers my mom has. She used to have back problems, but then she went to physical therapy and got it fixed. But she still kept them around.

I normally take pills (like the recommended, prescription ones) by swallowing taking some water, then putting the pill in, then adding more to swallow. Deciding that should be effective enough, I go to swallow some vodka.

Just as I'm opening up the bottle, someone knocks on the door.

It's probably nothing. Then, wrapping my hand around the neck of the bottle, I go to press it to my lips when the knocking continues.

Sighing, I hide both the pills and the bottle in the medicine cabinet and practically gallop downstairs to peek through the peephole.

It's Harry. I cock my head as I open the door. "What are you doing?"

"Hey, are you busy right now?"

"Kinda."

"Well, sorry, but this is important. You know that Halloween party that Louis throws every year?"

Everyone knows Louis Tomlinson's infamous Halloween party, which is on Wednesday and sometimes goes onto Thursday since our school is smart/dumb enough to give a student-free day after Halloween. Any soccer-affiliated person/groupie who's anyone goes there. There's drinking (no drugs though, they could get a surprise pee test) and a lot of sex. As you can tell by my popularity stance, I've never been.

"I've heard of it."

"I was just wondering, since you were so awesome and all helping me out, would you like to go with me."

I bite at my lip. Hanging out with Harry would be awesome, but I'm kind of trying to kill myself here.

"I don't have a costume-"

"Me neither! I was going to go shopping tomorrow. And I was wondering if you'd join me. For both the shopping and the party."

"Is this one of those Carrie thing where you lure me somewhere and pull some horrible massive prank?"

He looks saddened I'd think that, but then he jokes, "You don't have supernatural powers do you?" I shake my head no. "Then, NO, of course not." I giggle a bit. "In all seriousness, the soccer team has no problem with you. It's really just-"

"Everyone else?" I complete for him.

"Pretty much, yeah. But I promise to make sure that nothing happens to you."

I bite at my lip again in deep thought. Do I send him away and kill myself now, or do I go with him to the shopping thing and then to the party and kill myself later?

Deciding I need one last hurrah, I answer. "Okay I'll go with you."

"Perfect! I'll pick you up after school and I know the perfect place to get costumes. See you tomorrow, Beck." Then Harry bounds down the staircase and off to his car.

I close the door, sighing. When will I stop getting interrupted by that stupid, curly-haired boy?

Notes

NOTE NOTE NOTE that you should NOT do what Beck was about to do and if you are feeling suicidal feel free to talk to me at either my twitter (craicymofo) or tumblr (craicymofos).