Seeing no other choice, she put on the outfit, immediately feeling far too exposed. In the mirror, she looked kind of slutty, especially with all that make-up. Where did that make-up come from anyway?
"Those aren't your clothes," Walter told her, softly.
"What?"
"I sit behind you in fifth period. I know what you wear."
"That's kind of pathetic, Smukmeyer," she said.
He looked like he might quiet down, but he felt...not himself. He was quiet, and softspoken. "My name is Walter. I'll even let people call me Walt." No one did, but that wasn't the point. "You and your cheerleader friends spend all the time looking down on anyone else who isn't beautiful and making their lives miserable. I'm nice, I'm smart, and unlike half the people cheerleaders date, I'm not a stupid jerk who will end up the real loser when we graduate."
Amber stared at him. "What's gotten into you?" She asked. He was usually such a timid mouse. Being assertive...and well, handsome....she was finding him rather attractive.
"I don't know. But this is my house...sort of. You aren't going to treat me like something you stepped in."
