The  party was to start in fifteen minutes, and I was nowhere near ready. I looked through my closet again, indecisive on what to wear tonight.

        I sighed. I had to out-dress the women tonight. Maybe even get a boy or two to notice me. Already, some of the guests were waiting downstairs, and I could hear my name being tossed around a couple of times, and still here I was, not even dressed. No makeup. Nothing. I hadn't even taken the time to comb my hair.

        Of course, my looks were more important than anything, and if any of those girls looked better than me, which is near impossible, nobody would even look at me. And nothing was worse than not being noticed. So, going by the rule of course, Desperate times called for desperate measures, and what, if not this, was desperate?