babyjosephine: (teenaged bruising)
[personal profile] babyjosephine posting in [community profile] thedirtyverse
Some point in 1957

It was eleven--no, it was closer to midnight than to eleven--and Alice was so furious she couldn't see straight. Her finger shook in the rotary dial and her mind was so scattered that she chose the wrong number twice before remembering that she was dialing America and needed a few extra numbers to have it go through.

She was dialing America (and sniffing hard--sniffing with fury) because Allen Carey was an insufferable prick with a horrible upbringing and a stupid face and he had ruined her day, ruined her year, ruined her life, and she would never ever forgive him. She would total all of his cars for as long as he chose to have them. She would chase him with whatever cars she owned next. She would haunt him like a ghost. He was the worst person in existence and if he knew any of her school friends well, she'd have started spreading rumors already.

Violet and Mallory had endured hours of ranting already, but not yet today. Mallory was busy. Violet was busier. They had good boyfriends who weren't twats.

Alice sat down on the far side of her bed and stared at the wall as the phone rang.
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