IT'S MISS TEEN DREAM, BITCHES

After her class with the teachers of UST-for-great-justice, Petra had gone back to her room, missing her parents and Tiara and feeling kind of low. Since that was completely unproductive, she decided to do something. Sew something, maybe. Or, wait, she had a better idea. Like most of the world, she'd missed out on Missoni for Target, which was tragic, because Target fashion was about as far as her budget extended most of the time. But that was fine, because she was a DIY-er. She'd make her own damn scarf. And then maybe a hat and some armwarmers, too, if she got really excited.

She hauled the box containing yarn and knitting and crocheting stuff out from under her bed and settled down to make critical pattern and color combination decisions. Anyone walking by in the hallway who happened to look in would find Petra sitting on the floor, surrounded by what looked like the scene of a yarn bomb explosion and deep in thought, with this 'Lady Gaga' person Kenzi had introduced her to's music wafting at a respectful-of-her-neighbors volume from her laptop.

((Open door, open post!))