(I guess this is the best picture that I found that was fitting for Juliet. Like Amber, if I happen upon a better picture, I'll change it and let you guys know ^.^ Juliet Prince, everyone! (This girl looks older than 14, but let's pretend that she is anyhow x3))

The spider sticks its behind to the wall to start a web. It bends its to connect the shiny strand to the other wall. I let my head fall to the left side. The air conditioning is blowing on a piece of paper. The white computer paper lifts up at one end, waving at an unknown, invisible being. I stare up at the ceiling. My eyes roam. Nope, I already counted all the air bubbles in the paint. My head falls to the right, my hair cascading over the edge of the couch with it. The TV screen's black and glossy. My reflection is despicable. One leg thrown over the back of the couch, the other foot shoved under a pillow, making my summer dress bunch up around my thighs. And, of course, in this inconspicuous position my legs are parted a bit; that combined with the hardly concealing dress skirt equals me flashing any bystander who puts their face up to the window my blue, yellow-polka-dotted .

But I'm counting on the fact that no one in my neighborhood has the audacity to invade on someone's privacy like that. I'm also turned away from the den entrance so that if a family member were to waddle into the Den of Utter Boredom and under the cloud of Depressing Self-Pity they will not be scarred by the sight of my underwear and instead will only see a whole lot of leg and my expressionless face.

The cloud of Depressing Self-Pity is constructed of three major things (not exactly in this order):

1.  I can't hang out with my best friend
2.  I can't hang out with NU'EST (*cough* JR *cough*)
3.  And, the subject that started the monstrous dark cloud, my belly

I have one question concerning the fat dwelling there: WHYYYYYY??? WhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhyWHY?? Can't I live without this bulging lump of misery and humiliation? I have toned legs from walking, nice hips from simple puberty, and a curvy waist from genetics and side bends. My upper arms are flabby though and, beside BaekHo, I feel almost ashamed.

Don't gape at me because I know how f***ing stupid it is to compare my flimsy arms to that tiger's.

But my stomach! That's the thing I really lament on. I mean, alright, I admit that I saw it shrink the tiniest bit when I started to walk/run and do crunches, but then I stopped doing crunches because they're just plain ANNOYING in the fact that after the first couple of days it feels unproductive and the pleasing soreness of the muscles goes away no matter how many crunches you force yourself to do. And I haven't walked since school let out. Just because.

Mother says it is part of a woman to have a small pouch on their stomach. THIS IS MORE THAN A 'SMALL POUCH'! This is massive. This is overwhelming. This is when-I-bend-over-the-fat-squishes-over-the-waistband-of-my-pants. This is when-I-bend-over-a-fat-roll-appears-on-my-waist. As I lay here right now, flat on my back, I can see a slight bump on my tummy and I know that is a 'pouch' that I would be okay to have. But I also know that it looks so small because the excess fat has settled into my body; the second I stand up – no, when I sit up, I'll see the fat gather into one big roll.

It looks horrid when I bend at the waist even the slightest bit. When I'm standing tall, it doesn't look bad. But from my vantage point looking down at my stomach? It makes me want to snatch a carving knife from the kitchen and cut off the surplus carbohydrates.

The Den of Utter Boredom is getting worse by the second, and just as I'm about to scream for the heck of it, Juliet comes into the room. Upon seeing me, she stops her advance and decides she's safer closer to the door. "Oh-kayyy," she drawls, converting the bafflement she feels into one word. "Uhh, Mom wants you upstairs, Starr."

I blink like a lazy cat. "And why can't you go see what she wants?"

"'Cause I'm walking out the door, you bum." She sticks her tongue out at me. How immature, I think. Instead I say, "Where are you going? Would you like a ride this time? Who's going to be there?" I'm sitting up. Am I finally going to get a raindrop of amusement? Juliet's expression shifts from contempt to a guarded one. ". . . I'm going to the DQ again. No, I don't need a ride. And it's just a few friends."

I slump my shoulders in disappointment. I wanted to get out of the house but I wanted a reason to. I didn't want to walk outside to do something, not just to enjoy the weather. That's just moving from the Den of Utter Boredom to the Front Yard of Utter Boredom.

I sigh. "Alright, I'll just go see what Mother wants then." When I stand up, the pink sundress falls to my knees but my hair stays in disarray. Juliet heads out the door as I climb the stairs two at a time. Near the top, I slow down, for the fast advance up the thirty-seven stairs leaves my heart pumping quicker than normal. I crawl into Mother's bedroom on my hands and knees. She's curled up on the bed with a heating pad on her stomach, a pot near her head, and a Ziploc bag of crackers in her hand.

"Oh, hi, honey," she croaks. I kneel, propping my elbows on the mattress. "Mother, you sound awful. What's wrong? What do you need?" I fret. Mother closes her eyes and steadies her breathing. She finally whispers, "I need you to go up to the store and get a pregnancy test."

I wheel backward and almost topple over. My eyes wide I mouth, "Pregnancy test??" and Mother nods in the affirmative. I gape. A FREAKING PREGANCY TEST?! My mom wants me to waltz into CVS and nonchalantly snag a box, walk up to the counter, hand it over to the cashier – WHO MIGHT BE SOMEONE FROM SCHOOL – pay for it, and then walk out like I buy preg-tests every day? Oh, okay, sure, Mother, I'll do that as soon as you stop jerking me around.

"Starr, I know you don't like it, but I haven't been feeling good all day. I can't ask Daddy 'cause he's not home, Juliet left, and I can't trust your brother to get me one again."

"Again?!" My eyes are bulging out of my head.

Mother sighs. "It was years ago. Anyway, there's some money in my purse; take a ten and please go buy me one."

She means it. Mother actually wants me to run up to the store and buy her a pregnancy test. It's really not some big, weird joke.

I get up on my feet slowly, afraid I might fall over if I leap up too fast. I shuffle over to the dresser and slip out a ten dollar bill. I walk out saying over my shoulder, "I'll be back in a bit, Mother. Call me if there's an emergency."

* * *

The plastic bag crinkles against my thigh and my dress flutters around me in the light summer breeze as I walk out of CVS. I'm going to kill that woman. I swear I'm going to kill her and bury her under a rock.

Getting a pregnancy test for Mother was easy - until I got to the cashier. Almost no customers were in the store but I still wanted to get out of there before anyone I knew actually did show up. I shyly tossed the thin box up on the counter. The cashier was an older woman - in her fifties, I would guess - and I expected her not to look at me twice; surely she's had all different kinds of people buy stuff like this. She wouldn't think this was weird, right?

God, I want to kill her.

She picked up the box then peered over her glasses to stare at me. "Honey," she began, "do you know what this is for?" I blanched and froze. "I . . . I'm sorry. What??" I asked. 'Cause she did NOT just say that to me. She mortifyingly waved the test around and I heard the tube shaking inside. Oh, Lord, no. "This, sweetie. Do you know what this is for? Do you know how to use one?"

I stared at her. My mouth was letting in flies. She continued, "Well, if you're going around using this, I think you might want to try our condoms, too. They're in the back, in the last aisle." She smiled. SMILED. Then - OF COURSE - I heard a group of kids outside the doors. My heart stopped, my eyes went wide, and I quickly hissed at the old lady, "It's for my mother, ma'am."

She gazed at me for a while more over her grandma-glasses. "Oh, okay," she winked, like we were some long-time pals in on a top secret joke. "I see, honey, sure. For your mother." She freaking winked again with her knowing smile.

Maybe burying her under a rock is too good for her.

She rang up the pregnancy test just as a few young boys came into the store. They glanced at me but not what I was buying. My leg started to shake up and down in impatience. The cashier bagged the box and said loudly enough for the whole Goddamn city to hear, "ARE YOU SURE YOU DON'T WANT CONDOMS, TOO, HONEY??"

"NO!" I exclaimed, suddenly in a fit of hysterics. "I just want to buy what I came in here to buy and go back home!"

She nodded like she understood me. My yelling totally just freaking blew right over her. "Alright, honey, I understand. Go home and rest your feet. I use to get the worst bloodstains in my shoes when I was pregnant with my son."

What should be my weapon of torture when I track her down to murder?

I stared at her, appalled, my mouth gaping, my eyes huge, and, all-in-all, I probably looked like Dracula's sister. I yanked the bag out of her hands and stormed out the door, blowing right past the dumbfounded boys.

CASHIER

Darla chuckles in amusement as she watches the teenage girl whirl out of the store. I love doing that.

STARR

Nothing unusual happened back there, Starr. Nothing at all. So stop brooding over nothing 'cause freaking NOTHING HAPPENED.

I step off the sidewalk and cross the parking lot, the asphalt shimmering with heat. When I get to the other side I start the short walk home. I settled on walking to the store; if I'm outside, I might as well walk and try to put a dent in my stomach fat.

I wonder where she lives . . . ? Wonder where who lives? Nothing happened in the store.

As I take the bend around the store, my eye catches a group of teenage girls loitering behind the store near the dumpsters and empty plastic crates. It isn't a large group, but neither is it small. About eight middle school girls. One or two of them can pass as high schoolers. The bend in the sidewalk draws me closer to the back of the store so I'm able to recognize that two of them are from my school. Both are from my class. I hardly even see them around since they're non-existent in class, but when they show up, you can't really forget what they look like. One has dark purple hair with vibrant blue highlights and the other has a buzz cut and her right ear is edged completely in safety pins.

The punk girls in the group vary in size, color, and shape, but not one of them has the hair color they were born with or any lobe not pierced and all their clothes are ripped like they were all just came back from a big violent fight. I swear that half of them have a cigarette hanging from between their lips. Middle schoolers! What the hell are they doing with freaking cigarettes??

The sidewalk is about to take me to another street, but just before the group fades from my view, I glimpse one girl. The only girl that has her clothes intact, no excessive piercings, and doesn't have a hard edge to her face. From a distance it almost looks like she's scared or worried. She's gnawing on her lip and absently tosses her un-bleached, un-dyed hair over her shoulder. The familiar natural sheen sends confusion through me.

Why isn't Juliet at Dairy Queen? And what's my little sister doing hanging out with a group like that?

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A/N: Yo, one last time for tonight ;3 If you want to see an updated, MUCH better picture of Amber, see chapter five: Back From Korea. I found it while looking for a Juliet Prince picture I can use for this chapter. What else? Well, this is realllllly belated, but so may people are still doing it and I'm totally bummed that I missed July 21; I was planning on doing a birthday update ^^

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ARON, JR, AND BAEKHO!!! SORRY I MISSED YOUR BIRTHDAY, BAEKHO ^^; I MEANT TO DO A SPECIAL UPDATE FOR YOU BUT I WENT OFF ON VACATION THE DAY BEFORE. ARON, I WASN'T EVEN AWARE OF AFF'S EXISTANCE ALL THE WAY BACK IN MAY- OR OF NU'EST, ACTUALLY ^^;- AND MY BELOVED JR? I THINK I HAD STARTED BT BEFORE YOUR BIRTHDAY BUT IT NEVER OCCURED TO ME TO DO A BIRTHDAY UPDATE. I'M SORRY, LOVE!!!

<--JR--3