A/N

I'm so sorry this took so long to put up, I really am. I feel like such a jerk for not continuing the story. I've been so busy the last few weeks with personal stuff that I completely forgot about FanFiction altogether. Sorry, sorry, and sorry. I pinky promise that I'll try to keep the updates more regular. As always, I hope you enjoy Pink. Also, feel free to check out my other stories (shameless self promotion, sorry not sorry). Thank you!

-K

P.S. I've decided that I'm going to set Pink in the 21st century, just because this is an area I'm more familiar with. It won't change any of the plot points that have already been established.

Rizzo woke up the next morning, in her own room, with no idea how she got there. She didn't remember going home. When she thought about it, she didn't really remember anything about last night. She turned her light on, only to turn it off because the light burned her eyes. She pulled herself up and found herself looking into the eyes of a zombie.

She screamed. The zombie screamed to, and with a shock, Rizzo realized she was looking in a mirror. Her eyes were dark and sunken and her curly hair looked limp and ragged. Why did she look so... so... awful? What had happened last night.

Her cell phone rang and Rizzo almost moaned at the sound. The music that poured out (Hey There, Delilah by the Plain White T's because duh) echoed painfully in her ears. She answered the call- just to stop the noise- and said. "Hello?" Her voice was raspy and her throat burned.

"Riz? Riz? Are you there?"

Frenchy's perky voice hurt her ears. "Hey, French," Rizzo said, louder this time.

"Riz! Oh, gosh, I wanted to make sure you were okay. When Jan and Marty and I left the party, you were still there. And you wouldn't answer your phone! Oh, I was so worried. Are you okay? What time did you leave? Is Marty with you?" Frenchy spoke so rapidly that Rizzo thought her head would spin off.

"I'm fine," Rizzo told her, rubbing her curly hair. "What happened last night?"

"You don't remember?" Frenchy asked, incredulous.

"No, not really," Rizzo replied. "I mean, I remember we met the Pink Ladies. And now we're Pink Ladies. But that's it. And I have a massive headache."

"You must be hungover," Frenchy decided. "Max came home from drinking one night and the next day he had the biggest headache ever. He said that he had a hangover. And you were drinking a lot last night, Rizzo. Like, a lot a lot. The seniors kept offering us... alcohol. And you always said yes. I had like two sips and then I threw it out. Jan didn't have any, I don't think, and Marty only had one. They drank a lot of beer, Riz. Like, a lot a lot. You could totally tell that half of them were drunk. One guy-" Frenchy burst out laughing at the very thought and didn't continue.

"So how'd I get home?" Rizzo asked, confused.

"Oh, I think Jeffery picked you up," Frenchy said. Jeffery was Marty's personal driver, as Marty's wealthy parents wanted their daughter to go anywhere and everywhere she wanted. "At least, Marty said she would tell him to. Or maybe the Pinks took you home. Are you sure you can't remember anything?"

"Nothing," Rizzo told her. Then she yawned. "French, I got to go. I've got an errand to run."

"Oh, okay," Frenchy said. "See you later, Rizzo!"

"Later," Rizzo said, shutting her phone off and tossing it to the other side of her bed. Then she rolled over and fell asleep.

She woke up again to her phone ringing. Hey, there Delilah, what's it like in New York city? I'm a thousand miles away but girl tonight you look so-

"You're ago for Rizzo," she spoke into her phone groggily.

"Where are you!" Rizzo recognized Marty's whine.

"Home."

"Well, get your butt over here!" Marty demanded.

"Can't." Rizzo lied. "I'm busy."

"Well un-busy yourself!" Marty was annoyed, Rizzo could tell. She wasn't used to not getting what she wanted.

"Marty, I can't. This is really important." She pushed her face closer into her pillow and closed her eyes.

"Rizzo, I'm going to kill you!" Marty shrieked. "You need to get to my house, now!"

"What's the big deal?" Rizzo was annoyed, too. Marty was her best friend- she had been since the fourth grade- but sometimes she was just so irritating! She loved Marty to death, but no one could grate her nerves quite as well as Marty could.

"It's a boy thing," Marty said, sounding embarrassed. "And you're so good with boy things. I really need your help."

"A boy thing? You're calling me for a boy thing?"

"It's not any boy," Marty said, hurt. "He just moved in right next to me. He's really cute. His name is Roger and his dad is a neurosurgeon. He came over introduced himself and I totally froze up. I didn't know what to say, so I smiled and nodded until he left! He must thing I'm a total freak. Please, please, help me, Rizzo! You'e so confident around boys and I need you here, because then I'll be able to talk to him."

Rizzo sighed. "Can we talk to him tomorrow?"

"No! It has to be today, so he can replace weird me with cool me!"

Rizzo eyed her alarm clock. It read 11:01. "Can I be at your house at 12?"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Marty said. "I'l send Jeffery to pick you up. And please, wear something cute." She reverted back to her normal snarky attitude and hung up.

Rizzo was grateful for another hour of sleep.

Hey there, Delilah, what's-

"You're ago for Rizzo," Rizzo moaned into her phone. Sleeeeeeeep.

"Morning," Sherri chirped into her phone.

"Sherri!" Rizzo bolted upright, causing a pang in her head. "Ow!"

"Oh, are you still hung over?" Sherri said. "Poor thing. Was last night the first time you've ever had a drink."

"No," Rizzo said stubornly, even though it had been.

"Sure, whatever. I must say you're fun to party with. So, meet me at the Smoothie Shack in the mall in ten minutes. See you then? Great!" Sherri talked quickly, leaving no time for Rizzo to reply. "Oh, and Rizzo. Don't bring anyone else." The line went dead.

Rizzo threw her hands in the air.

A/N. So what'd ya think? I'm thinking... five comments for a new chapter! Pretty please? -K