The walls of my old room were white. There's nothing wrong with white walls. They're nice, but I no longer wanted nice. I want different. Everything else different – where we lived, our family, me – so, why not the walls? If I truly wanted to commit to the idea of reinventing myself I felt I should start with my surroundings.

I spent hours of looking through paint swatches, but none of the colors were wowing me. I was hoping to get a color picked out before unpacking my room. That wasn't going to happen, though. How could I change my entire life, if I couldn't even change the colors of my walls?

"Knock, knock," Mom said before stepping into my empty, white bed room. Her box-braids were styled up in bun so high I thought she wouldn't make through the door frame without ducking. She did, though. Just barely.

"Guess what I found?" she sang. That's when I noticed the bulky, purple sewing machine that she poorly hid behind her back.

"Is it a giraffe?" I teased, walking over to retrieve the sewing machine. There was a thick layer of dust on it from its four year stint in the back of my closet. Now, it was very important to my reinvention plan.

Since Mom's entire savings went into the move, there wasn't much of a budget for new clothes. So, I had to bring Betsey out of retirement - named after my biggest fashion inspiration Betsey Johnson.

"Did you find that DIY site I told you about?" she asked, as I set the machine down in the corner next to my laptop. "Cristina, from the support group, she said there are some cute DIYs for clothing there."

"Yes, I found it," I said, picking up my laptop and turning to her. "I was a little skeptical at first because you mentioned that Cristina was seventy years old, but the creations on there are actually wearable."

I show her the website and she nods in approval as she scrolled through the various clothing projects. Her features changed from approving to disapproving in a blink of an eye.

"Let me catch you in this," she said, pointing to a risqué little black dress. "You're not too old for the belt."

"But that one is my favorite," I said, faking a pout.

Her lips spread into a grin, showing off her perfect teeth – her two front teeth gapless, unlike mine. I expected her to say something, but instead she stared at me like I was a baby taking my first steps. The hugging was coming and I had nowhere to run. She'd been hugging me a lot since I told her about my plan.

She stepped forward, embracing me in her strong arms and squeezing tightly. I held the laptop out to the side to keep her crushing it between us. The flowery scent of her perfume wafted around me and, despite my earlier protest, I melted into it. "I'm so proud of you for finally coming out of your shell."

"Hold your proud mama speech until after I've actually had any interactions with a human other than you," I said as she released me from the hug.

"Speaking of human interactions," she said, pulling her wallet from her back pocket. After handing me a few dollars she continued, "I saw a craft store on the way here, you can go pick up a few supplies for your projects."

I smiled, thanking her before giving her a quick hug. She then left the room to unpack some more boxes. Looking around at the boxes labeled LOREN that were stacked in the middle of the floor, I debated whether I should do some unpacking or check out the craft store.

Definitely the craft store.

I changed out of my sweatpants into a pair of distressed jeans and long sleeved black and white striped top. My hair was done into two strand twist I was too lazy to unravel, so I just untwisted two in the front for bangs and hid the rest under a back beanie. After grabbing the car keys from Mom I left for the store.

Westbrook was a small city, so the drive to the shopping center Mom told me about only took about fifteen minutes. I parked in front of the craft store, which sat between a pizza place and a Thai restaurant. My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn't eaten since lunch.

The inside of the craft store was small, with shelves of crafting supplies crammed in. It was difficult not to bump into something while navigating through the aisles.

After passing aisle after aisle of Halloween and harvest decorations, I finally found the sewing aisle. There wasn't much to choose from, but I found a few nice packs of satin ribbons, buttons, zippers and sew-on patches.

Most of the DIYs on the site involved transforming old clothes into something new, so I didn't need any fabric. Mom was a hoarder when it came to clothes and she had already set aside some that she was willing to part with.

"Hello, fellow arts-and-crafter," two girls said in unison from behind me.

Turning to face them, I saw that they wore identical outfits – black dress, black choker with a moon charm and white platform sneakers. Very nineties. They also had matching ear and nostril piercings and their hair was done up into two messy buns.

Old Loren would have ignored them and walked away. It's what I wanted to do, honestly. For years I told myself to not let anyone in, not even a little. It was lonely not having any friends, but it was better than having someone smiling in your face while secretly judging you.

I was trying to be different, though. For myself. Also for my mom who worried so much about me. So, I stayed put and contorted my face into what I hoped was a smile. "Hi," I said.

"We're Kimber and Jem," one of the girls, Kimber, said as she pointed to herself and the girl next to her. "A.K.A. The Twins."

I blinked in confusion. Not only because they were named after characters from a popular eighties cartoon, but because they looked nothing alike.

Matching outfits aside, they were polar opposites when it came to their looks. Kimber was Asian, her hair dyed platinum blonde. Jem was black, her skin just as light as mine and she was taller than Kimber and I both.

"Story time," they said with a laugh.

They must get that look a lot.

The two of them launched into a story about how their moms, Bethany and Tess, tried to get pregnant through many complicated procedures.

"Our moms kept failing, so they adopted me while my birth mother was still pregnant with me," Kimber started.

"And four months into Kim's baking time, Bethany got preggers with me," Jem finished.

That was a lot more information than I expected to get from two total strangers. They seemed nice, though.

"I'm Loren and my conception story is not as interesting as yours," I laughed lightly.

"Don't worry, no one in Westbrook has been able to top us," Kim said.

"So, what's your specialty?" Jem asked, motioning to the supplies I had in my hands.

"Clothing."

"Nice," they agreed in unison.

"Ours is jewelry," Kim said and they both reached up to touch their moon charms.

"Those are really cute," I said.

"Thanks," they spoke at the same time. That was going to take some getting used to.

"Are you finished shopping?" Jem asked and I nodded.

Kim took my things from me. "We can ring you up."

I followed the two of them to the cash register and waited as they totaled up my purchases.

"So, what's your story?" Jem asked as I handed her the money.

"My mom and I just moved here," I said, taking the bag from Kim.

"From?" Kim questioned.

It was a simple question, but I had trouble answering it. It could lead to more questions. Questions I spent the last four years avoiding.

"Kim, I think you broke her."

Snapping out of my spiraling thoughts, I took a step backwards. "I should get going."

"Wait," Kim said.

"You should come to our sleepover," Jem suggested.

"You can meet some of the other girls," Kim added.

"And we'll be watching all five Step Up movies," Jem said, wiggling her eyebrows.

"You can't say no to Channing Tatum," Kim said, as she took a business card a jotted something down on the back.

This was too much too soon. I thought I was ready to make friends and have people ask me simple things like where I was from. I wasn't. All I wanted to do was run home and go back to hiding away in my plain, white bedroom.

"I don't know," I shrugged, taking another step back. "There's still a lot of unpacking to do."

Jem took the card from Kim and stepped down from the register to hand it to me. "Here's our number and directions to our house, if you change your mind."

"We start at seven," Kim called out as I exited the store.

My heart was racing, hands shaking as I got into the car. My first real human interaction in forever and I felt like I was in one of those horrible dreams where you're in public wearing nothing but your underwear. It's not like they were even mean or judging me. They probably are now, though. I'll be at their sleepover, in spirit, as they tell all their friends about the freak they met.

Starting the car, I headed back home.

When I opened the front door I was greeted with the aroma of garlic. That meant one thing: spaghetti and garlic bread.

"Hey," Mom greeted me as I sat down at the island. She was at the stove stirring the food. "You talk to any humans?"

"Unfortunately," I mumbled.

She stopped stirring, turning the stove and and came over to the other side of the island. "What happened?" she asked.

"I'm awkward and weird and shouldn't be allowed out in public," I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

"Aw, baby, I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

Dropping my hands from my face, I put the bag on the counter and pulled out the business card. "They invited me to a sleepover," I said, examining the neat, round letters on the back and the heart with K + J in the middle.

The last sleepover I attended resulted in mental scarring. Along with so physical scarring as well. Mom didn't know that until a year ago. That's when she decided it was time to relocate. Her faced mirrored my concerns about going.

"We're not in Adsgrove anymore," she said.

"It's close enough," I uttered under my breath, but she heard me.

"And those are not the girls who went to school with," she reminded me.

"Do you think I should go?" I asked, looking up at her.

"That's up to you," she said as she pulled two plates from the cabinet. "It's scary putting yourself out there and there's no guarantee that everything will go smoothly. Just remember what you told me about your plan."

My plan. She was more ecstatic about than I was when I showed her the list. There was a lot on the list – start sewing again, make friends, pull my grades up. The point was to just enjoy my junior year. This sleepover could be a step in the right direction to achieving my goal. Or it could become one of those memories that you stay up all night analyzing over and over again.

I know its early but what do you think of Loren so far?

What about The Twins?

& What do think Loren should go to the sleep over?