***
“Harper? Haaaaarperrrrrr! Wake up!”
My eyelids opened just enough to see a smiling face directly in front of me. I shot upright and brought my arms up, my entire body already tense.
“Whoa, whoa! It's me, Breanna!”
“Do you have a death wish? Don't do that!” She'd better be happy I had still thought I was dreaming, growing up with my dad meant always being on the defensive when waking up.
She giggled and sat on the edge of my bed, “Sorry, I've been trying to wake you up for the last five minutes.”
Weird, I was usually a really light sleeper. “I thought you weren't coming ‘til Sunday?”
“Well technically I'm not, all my stuff is still at home...” She gestured to the still bare other half of the room, “but my brother and his buddies are throwing a huge party tonight and I figured I'd see if you wanted to go.”
The closest I’d ever come to a party was the stories I heard from the guys on base. I tried not to show my excitement and shrugged indifference. “Sure, when is it?”
“It doesn't start until nine or so, so we still have a few hours. Want to grab dinner?”
“Dinner? What time is it?!” I grabbed my phone and didn't even look at the time, all I could see was the twenty missed calls from Sir. “Crap, I need to call Si – um, my dad back. But after that I'll get ready and we can head out.”
Breanna didn't move from my bed so I decided to just let her stay there, I'm sure after she heard him yelling she'd leave. I caught the time just before I hit the send button and gasped. I'd slept for almost 16 hours, he was gonna kill me. As assumed, he answered on the first ring starting off in a disapproving lecture about not letting him know I'd made it to California and that I was okay, not answering my phone, and how bad of an idea it was to let me come here. I murmured apologies at all the appropriate times, and tried to ignore Breanna's laughing at the conversation. We may not ever talk, but when he was pissed, it wasn't something to take lightly.
“Oh my God, time to cut the apron strings, don't you think?”
I blew out a sigh of relief that the conversation was over, “Yeah, well, I'm all he has left.”
“Where's your mom?”
“She died.”
Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide. “I'm so sorry! I had no idea!”
“Don't worry about it,” I waved her apology off, “I never knew her.”
She simply nodded.
“I know my dad though, this is just the first time I've ever been away from him, and I think he's worried. Now that he knows I'm alive, I probably won't hear from him again for a while.”
Breanna still wasn't talking. This happened every time I told someone I didn't have a mom. Instead of trying to tell her not to worry about it again, I got up and got dressed for the party. Thankfully, my thick auburn hair was already naturally straight so I was ready in no time. Grabbing my purse, I turned to see Breanna's horrified expression.
“Wh-what?”
“Is that what you're going in?”
Shrugging, I looked down to my long jean shorts and black and gold infantry shirt. “Yes?”
“Oh no.” she was now looking in my wardrobe, checking all my clothes. “Okay you and I are both a size two, how tall are you?”
“Five feet two.” Yes, I know. I’m incredibly short.
“Just barely shorter than me...hmm. Okay come on, we're going to my place to get you changed.”
“Is there something wrong with this?”
She raised one perfectly shaped blonde eyebrow at me, her blue eyes narrowed, “Let's just say I'm going to throw out your entire wardrobe and take you shopping tomorrow, because we obviously don't have time tonight. I'm guessing we have to get some make-up while we're at it?”
I nodded. To be honest, I'd never felt like I'd needed make-up. Not saying that I think I'm really attractive or anything, just never saw the need. I'd been blessed with a smooth complexion and had wide gray eyes hidden behind long dark lashes. I always thought anything else would have been too much. Plus, I'm sure Sir would've had a fit if I'd ever bought any.
We grabbed some sandwiches from a deli and before I knew it, I already had my make-up completely done and Breanna was holding different outfits up to my body. She settled on a faded, torn denim mini skirt that looked like it would barely cover my butt, and a black spaghetti strap.
“Okay put these on, and no peeking yet!”
“Is there something else to go over this undershirt?”
“Undershirt? No, that is the shirt!” She looked at me like I was crazy before walking into the bathroom.
Thankfully, the spaghetti strap was pretty long allowing me to pull the skirt down enough so I didn't think my butt was showing, but I'm pretty sure I'd never been this exposed outside of my bathroom in my life. If she was a couple inches taller, how on earth did she even wear this thing?