Losers & Lame Parties || Karley
Kitty wasn’t entirely sure what the purpose of tonight would ultimately be. If she was being honest, she was somewhat appalled that Marley had gotten it into her head (by way of Santana Lopez, no less) that going to a bar or even entertaining the idea of underage drinking was a remotely good idea. But given that she’d pretty much talked her way out of being recruited to the glee club again and the thought of little miss naive Virgin Mary going into a bar unaccompanied weighed a little too heavy on her conscience to let her go anywhere that weekend. Not unless she was the escort. So rather than appeasing her little sister’s request to play Candyland for the fifth weekend in a row, she was doing something she swore she would never do again - getting ready to attend a high school party.
Her more ‘risque’ wardrobe was shoved to the very back of her closet, hidden by swaths of tulle and cotton, dresses that her parents deemed appropriate, feminine, professional for a young lady of her standing. Dresses that would get her an appreciative nod at church every Sunday and that would, in theory, keep her step-mother from picking a fight. No one in Lima really knew that her ‘mother’ was actually her step-mother, mostly because her father wanted to save face. Not that that was ever a story worth telling, so Kitty didn’t bother sharing. It’s not like anyone cared enough to know. And on weekends like this when her father was out of town for work, her step-mother was usually too busy gossiping with her friends in the kitchen over a bottle of wine to notice anything else going on in the house. Kitty could announce to the whole house that she was attending a seance and no one would bat an eyelash, so ‘sneaking out’ to a party was less sneaking out, and more coming and going as she pleased.
She pulled out the few ‘fun’ dresses she had out of the closet and threw them on the bed, moving to her vanity to make sure she had all the necessary accouterments for a mild make-over. Tonight was not about making either of them unrecognizable or attempting to draw attention to them, but to some extent they needed to look the part. Or at least Marley did. She was comparing eye shadow palettes when she heard someone coming up the stairs, her head turning sharply to watch the door until it opened, her companion for the night coming into view. Her tension lessened. “Hey,” she put on a vague smile and gestured to her bed, “take a look at the dresses on the bed and pick one you like. I’ll wear whatever’s left over.”