Lies are like a zipper; Made to hold things together, but under strain, hard to keep up.

I sighed and touched the fly of my dark jeans, self-consciously checking it hadn’t pulled open again. It was done up tight. Good.

I glanced around, hoping no-one had seen. My eyes landed on Sara, her dark eyes watching me in amusement. “Nervous?”

Damn. She had seen.

I glared and mumbled, intentionally misunderstanding her. “These jeans are tighter then I remembered.”

Sara laughed, ignoring my weak attempt at a dodge. “You knew it would catch up to you.”

I glowered, only to watch her grin grow wider.

“Don’t look too happy about it.”

“You know I love to watch you squirm.”

“Cow.”

“Hey, I warned you.”

I ignored her, attempting a smile at the woman behind the counter as I dumped a pile of junk in front of her. Judging by her expression, I failed miserably. Her frown deepened as her gaze fell on the pile of candy bars, chips, bags of lollies and fizzy drink. Giving me a disapproving glare she started to scan each item, dropping them into a white plastic bag.

I watched her work without seeing, chewing my lip nervously. What could I do? They were going to kill me. No, rephrase that. They were going to lecture me until my ears bled, skin me alive, then kill me.

Maybe I could hold the zipper up a little longer….

“Huh?” I blinked at the woman.

“I said, cash or Eftpos?”

“Oh, sorry…” I fished my wallet out of my jacket pocket. Flipping it open, I pulled out my card and handed it over, smiling apologetically.

She stared at me blankly and swiped my card, and I wondered how many girls like me she had served. I suppose she thought she had got us all worked out, and was unimpressed by what she saw in today’s youth. I didn’t blame her.

“Have a nice day.” Her words were hollow and monotone, simply a phrase she muttered hundreds of times a day. I grabbed my bag of comfort and shoved my wallet back in my jacket, leaving the store quickly. Sara followed, her lips twisted in an amused and self righteous smile. She could be such a cow, but what was worse, she was usually right. And she knew it.

She had warned me that lying to my parents was a bad idea, no matter how much I hated school. And here I was, avoiding going home and explaining why I had been picked up by the cops after skipping three days of school straight.

They wouldn’t understand. I didn’t belong there.

“Hey, you gonna give me one of those chocolate bars or what?”

Pulled out of my thoughts, I opened the bag, fishing out two chocolate bars and glaring at my friend. I was tempted to eat both of them, right in front of her, just to wind her up, but thought better of it.

“You want a chocolate bar?”

“Yeah. Gives it.”

“You going to stop being an arrogant bitch?”

Sara stared at me, her eyebrows raised slightly. “You know that’s not possible.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, passing her the chocolate bar as we walked down the street. We walked in silence, Sara no doubt immersed in her food. People walked past, some eying me suspiciously. For some reason, if I wear my torn jeans, faded work boots and denim jacket over an old t-shirt, people treat me with a lot less respect then if I wore my sandals and my good jeans, or a skirt.

I guess people can only judge by what we let them see.

We passed shop after shop, the scent of coffee mixing with heady incense and the oily smell of fried food in a sickly mess. Teenagers, some from my class, sat outside a café, annoying everyone with their high-pitched giggles and lewd comments at passers by. One of them, a girl in a clingy, low-cut white top spotted me and nudged the others.

The looks on their faces was enough to make me snarl, my lips curling in annoyance. I knew I wasn’t terribly good looking, my long straight black hair was limp rather then sleek, my pale skin sallow rather then creamy, my frame skinny rather then slim. I thought maybe I should just go gothic- maybe then I would fit in, but I don’t like make up, let alone piles of dark eyeliner. Plus these days being gothic is an art form- you need just the right clothes and just the right attitude. It wasn’t enough to be pale and dark-haired anymore.

Sara leered at them, pulling the fingers as we passed. She wasn’t stunning, either, she was unique. Her hair was short and dark, sticking out at odd angles that couldn’t seemed to be tamed. Her face was finely structured, almost pixie-like, but she piled on the oddest make up and designs you couldn’t see anything else. Today she had drawn a vine creeping along her cheek up to her temple, thorns drawn dramatically in eyeliner. Her hair was streaked with bright green hair mascara, and her top was a luminous shade of green to match.

You could see her from the other end of the street, I can tell you.

Sara turned away from the group of teenagers. “They are such freaks. You shouldn’t let them get to you, Rachel.”

I sighed. “You don’t get it.” And I knew she didn’t. She was strange, but she did it with style. Everyone knew she could fit in if she wanted, which made her independence that much cooler. I was just plain different.

As we turned into the suburb area, my mind turned back to my parents. Fear gnawed at my stomach, a thousand snakes writhing and vying for attention.

Sara saw my expression and clapped me on the back. “You’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

“Yeah, sure.” My voice sounded doubtful, even to me.

“Hey, worse comes to worst, you can come hang at my place.”

I tried to smile. “Thanks.” That’s one thing you could always count on. Sara could curse you to a gruesome and horrifically imaginative death and spit in your eye in the process one second, but be right there when you needed her the next. Being her friend was like courting a mountain lion; she was cute and cuddly and protective right up to the instant where she tore your face off.

We walked in silence, and I savored my last minutes of freedom. The air was crisp and cool, and the fading sky didn't care how different, or defiant, I really was. It just kept on growing darker, uncaring if I was there to watch it or not, and whether I saw it as the freak I was or the most popular girl in school.

Eventually, my gate loomed all to close. Sara muttered some extra comfort, taking the last of the drink and the chips. I waved bye, stepping through the gate and staring at the house. I could lie again, say I was...

I was...

my mind went blank. There was nothing for it but the truth.

I sighed, pausing at the front door, absently checking my fly again.

Time to let the zipper drop.