Look, everyone had priorities. No, really! From the top of the food chain down, everyone had their priorities. Things they wanted to focus on. Things that required effort. Sometimes, people had their priorities mixed up. They wanted things they thought they needed. It caused problems! In some instances, it caused death. Humans were just that, human. It led to priority mixups, which sometimes led to problems! Big ones, even.

Humans were weird. Emotions were weird. Lots of things humans were weird. Like, time. Ever thought about time? Humans are the only creature on earth who keep time. A dog is never late, a bird will never check its watch, animals never think about their coming birthdays. Everyone keeps a schedule, has dates, thinks about what’s coming at lunchtime…

Because of these normalities, Alan Alexander Bishop was ‘special,’ or ‘different,’ depending on who you asked.

A Double, as he preferred to be called — or Double A, if you preferred — didn’t much have priorities. Nor did he care about time. Those would be too stressful! If he had priorities, he wouldn’t be able to do whatever he wanted when he wanted to! If he adhered to the fear of running out of time, he would never spend time doing what he loved, just working.

No, A Double was raised better than that. He was born on this beautiful, majestic planet to have a good time appreciating it for just that. Beauty and majesty. Spend your time doing what you love and what makes you happy, that’s what his dad told him. So, that’s what he did. Almost one hundred percent of A Double’s time was devoted to hanging out with his friends, eating chips, and smoking weed.

This chunk of his time was for something else. He’d sent Q off to deal with the business part of this gathering, while he had taken all of his shovels and his pails, and gone off to the seaside. Now, he was chilling by the bonfire, closer to the ocean. While working on building himself a wonderful sandcastle, A Double learned two thing about himself, and one about the universe:

• One thing about himself: He was very good at digging holes
• Thing two about himself: He was not very good at building
• And one about the universe: Louis Sachar had lied. Digging holes did not build character.

And so, A Double had resigned himself to his fate. He had given up on actually building a sand castle, and had instead decided to… attempt to craft himself a seat, of sorts. Really, it was closer in size to a throne. At the edge of where the water touched, A Double had moved the sand. He’d built himself a giant chair. Just big enough to seat himself, as he watched the ocean rise and fall.

His bare feet dangled from the chair into another hole he’d dug at the front of the chair, slowly filling up with the water of the ocean. The light of the bonfire cast his shadow out along the shore and into the ocean. The boy stared out at the starry sky, clutching in one hand his bong, his other hand clicking the lighter before the bowl lit.

He cleared the smoke out and sat the bong in its custom BongHolder™ in the arm of the chair and coughed a few times, before blowing the smoke out. He dropped his lighter to the side and rubbed tears out of his eyes. A Double was made emotional by the sight of the moon over the ocean, with the stars dotting the sky — was there a prettier sight to see that night? He didn’t think so.

Where were his friends to see this, anyway!? Probably off smoking and eating Doritos… Man, that was the one thing that could make this better! Doritos, that is. Wait a second…. A Double’s hand slapped around in the sand on the left side (the bong side) of his chair, and he grabbed his backpack, unzipping it and pulling out a family sized bag of Cooler Ranch Doritos.

He tore the bag open and stuffed a handful of the tortilla chips into his mouth. Crunching and munching on them, he could feel more tears formulating. Wiping them away with his chip-less hand, A Double realized the truth of the matter: it had been maybe twenty minutes (he wasn’t sure, he didn’t keep time) since Q had left him, and he missed her. He missed them all!

“I wish my friends could see this, man,” he choked out, blinking a few tears down his cheeks, as he crunched more chips.

“I’ll remember that.” She said to the strange girl that just came up to her at the bar, telling her to guard her drink. It was a bit of an odd thing to say just out of the blue. Most would introduce themselves first. But before Elodie could, the girl already walked off with a beer. Right then, she got her own mocktail.

Elodie took a swing from her cup and almost spat it all out the second the bitterness hit. She looked down at the pitch black mixture. It was definitely not a mocktail. What the hell did that Asian girl make? She thought. Her mom would return it. Hell, her mom would be angry as hell. But this was Elodie’s first party in the US. She couldn’t just return it. Maybe this is what everyone here drank. Slowly she took another sip. No, no she’d need some other way. Then she saw it, straws. On the other side of the bar. The people on that side looked busy so she just reached over and grabbed two. With a cup and straws, she started wandering the around a bit. With straws, she could drink it a lot easier. Still, the taste wasn’t all that.

But who cares! Not Elodie, she was feeling a warm and a little fuzzy. The tequila and vodka raced up towards her head and it didn’t take long before Elodie stopped looking out where she went. Then, when she saw some strange lights behind her, she just turned around to look at them with a goofy smile as she walked backward. Inevitably she walked right into someone and immediately lost her balance.

No one could really blame her for losing her balance. After all, she had the misfortune of bumping into someone who was basically a titan. Luckily for her, this particular large man was more of a gentle giant than anything else. Even though he’d had a bit of a party foul from her bumping into him, and his beer had splashed out, Damian was quick to catch her, stepping forward and putting a hand on her back, pulling her back up to a steady position.

After he was sure the girl wasn’t going to fall on her ass, Damian removed his hand from her back and smiled down at her, white teeth shining. “Hey, take it easy, yeah? Gotta watch where you’re going or you’ll fall next time.” He grinned and winked down at her, before suddenly realizing that he had no idea who this was. “Who… are you?” He asked, before taking a sip out of his red solo cup.

“Whooooooop.” That was the only sound that came out of Elodie as she tipped over and got set straight again. Right after which she began to laugh and apologize: “Excusez-moi, excu- I mean, sorry.” She said, as her cheeks were getting read from the tiny bit of shame she felt combined with alcohol. “I’m new. No, I mean I’m Elodie. I’m both Elodie and new!” she said excitedly. After a moment, her mind had recovered enough from the near-fall to realize that she could be thrown out if he believed she just walked in. “I mean, I got here like a week ago for an exchange program at Beverly Hills High School and then I got an invite to this party! So I came and look at it!? There are actual kegs!” She shouted excited while pointing at one in the corner. Only to realize she might have overreacted a little. “I mean, we got those. But just.. not at houses. This El Jefe must be a really cool guy to let people just party here. Do you know him?” she asked, after which she took another draw from her funny tasting mocktail-that-is-actually-a-cocktail.

Oof. French girls. Then she got all blushy and defensive. It was cute as hell, and Damian liked cute. “That’s me. I’m El Jefe. Well, my name’s actually Damian. Damian O’Connor. This is my house… I’m glad you came! I tried to invite everyone, y’know? Yeah, I bought the kegs — well, my aunt did. I just gave her money.” He grinned again, looking at the murky drink the girl held in her hand. “Looks like you don’t do beer though, huh? I don’t know what you’ve got in that glass, but it smells strong. Hey, at least you’re having a good time! That’s what I wanted people to do, and it’s worked so far.”

“You’re El Jefe! I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you and I actually never met you and I just saw something so I looked and I’m so sorry I bumped into you!” The words just streamed out of Elodie until she realized it, clasped her hand over her mouth and shut up for a moment. Giving him a bit of time for the comment on her drink. “Yeah. I asked for a mocktail to keep myself…normal. But I think the Asian girl behind the bar probably misunderstood. I don’t know what she put in here.” She took a quick sip again. “It’s indeed a bit strong I think.” She pondered. “But it’s kind of fuzzy too. But really!? You live here. Right next to the sea?” Would he surf all day, skip lessons and be the football captain who secretly dug a nerdy chick? For a moment she shook her head. No those were just movies. Even if her current situation was touching pretty close to a movie, not everything around her could be so fantastic. “So tell me, what should I know about Beverly Hills High School?” she said with her goofy smile while taking another sip of her fuzzy drink. It was starting to taste alright now.

Asian girl behind the bar? Yikes. Henry must have bailed for something... Oh well, too late for that. After she asked about him living here, he shook his head. “Nah, this is just our beach house. I actually live in a mansion in the hills. This is where my mom likes to come during the summer, I just… borrowed it.” Without asking. But! That wasn’t important, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. “What do you need to know about the school? Well, just try not to get wrapped up in the politics. That would be the most important thing… I accidentally did, and I hate it. But, hey, it is what it is.” Damian explained, shrugging his shoulders and drinking from his cup again. Despite what people may think, he thought the whole system was kinda dumb… Even at the top of it, he thought it was stupid as hell.

“Look, just find friends that you like and who like you, and hang out with them. It’s just high school. Try to have an awesome time! We go to a pretty sweet school.”

“Well, I like you.” She blurted it out before she knew it. For a moment she remained silent. Letting the words just hang in the air. Trying to find a good comeback from it. Though she couldn’t find one to save her life. So instead she just tried to change the subject. “Oh well. I never liked politics anyway. So boring.” She tried to say offhandedly. “Back in France, it’s just me and the girls. You know, just chill. Nothing ever happened.” That was a lie. Some days were boring. But in France, Elodie's life was far from dull. The everyday gossips fought that feeling. But she still remembered being bullied. In a bid to forget that part she took another sip of her drink. “Anyway maybe I should ask it in a different way: What should I totally do? Like at school or outside of it.” LA was, above all else, a completely different world. And Elodie, for a few months, could play the happy tourist in it.

“Hey, everybody likes me. I’m pretty cool.” Damian said, before giving her a wink. When asked about what there was to do in LA, he shrugged. “If I were you, the first thing I’d do is go to Disneyland. Then the aquarium. Then Universal Studios. Then I’d go to Captain Cuddles, and that covers just about everything cool in LA, if you ask me. That’ll keep you busy for a long damn time, though, those places are huge. Do you like the food here? Most of it we ordered from Captain Cuddles, so hey, if you dig it, you dig it.”

“I haven’t but I will!” She took another sip from her drink. “And all those places sound super fun! I’ll go there. Thanks for the tips!” Then she took another sip, only to realize nothing was coming through her straws. “Oh… my drink’s empty.” She said rather sad. She was just starting to enjoy it. “I’ll get another one! So, I’ll probably see you around then!” Before she knew it, she was standing on her toes, giving him a big hug and then just vanished in the crowd.

Contrary to her party-going peers, New Year’s Eve was a regular night for Martha Radley. The dark-haired young woman had chosen to ignore the many invitations to Damian O’Connor’s party, preferring to stay at home, enjoying the comfort of her bedroom. At a few minutes past nine, Martha was in the zone. She stood right in the middle of her room, staring intently at a freshly-painted canvas while holding a used paint tray in her left hand. Wet and dry paint alike covered most of the exposed areas of her body, evidencing the dedication she was putting on the painting. The movie Queen Of The Damned was playing loudly in the background: the source of inspiration for her newest art piece.

The painting was that of a male vampire embracing his female human lover from the back in front of a twilit background. The male was your stereotypical vampire: tall, muscular, pale, and with a spectacular pair of bloodstained fangs. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of beige trousers and looking down at his mortal lover with an aroused expression. The mortal woman in question wore a deep purple Victorian dress, neck exposed to the vampire and revealing two red puncture wounds. Long locks of dark hair cascaded down and reached right under her ample bosom, accentuated by the dress’ corset. The woman’s eyes were closed, mouth slightly open in what seemed to be a pleasured face. To an outsider looking in, there was nothing more to be said about a typical goth vampire painting. However, to the students in attendance at Beverly Hills High, the inspiration behind faces of said figures in the canvas were inspired by two very real people. One of these people was the artist behind the painting, preserving her currently youthful appearance in the canvas. The other was none other than Grayson Wells, whom the artist had harbored a crush on since her freshman days.

Was it pathetic? Yes. Damn awkward? Very much so. Yet, Martha Radley was certain that the only times she would ever get that close to Grayson Wells were in paintings, drawings, fan-fics, or the assorted wet dreams she had of him every other night.

As Queen Akasha made her bomb-tastic appearance onscreen, the young woman took hold of one of the paintbrushes in her apron. Then, she proceeded to daintily dip the brush in one of the dark gold concoctions on her tray, and began to give soft strokes on the canvas.

---

On the second floor of the Radley residence, there was a boy. A frazzled, pouting, unprepared boy. Why, you might ask? Marshall had not a single thing to wear. That was, of course, untrue — he simply had nothing that fit the bill for this evening’s soirée. His slim smartphone was incessantly buzzing on his nightstand beside a copy of his latest read, Deal Maker by Lily Morton. The Candyland group chat was on fire tonight — Marsh had already received word that the unspoken dress code was black, in addition to multiple photos of his girls getting ready.

The Candies all looked drop dead gorgeous, as usual, and he would be naught but a sore thumb standing beside them later. Especially because, no matter how high and low he looked, he could not find a single black item in his wardrobe. No. No. No. No. NO! Marshall thought irritably to himself, punctuating each decision by carelessly tossing an article of clothing behind him. There was a growing pile of clothes strewn about his usually immaculate bedroom.

Marshall emerged from his closet, shirtless, but dressed from the waist down, in a pair of slim fit dark wash jeans that made his dancer booty look extra perky. On his feet were a set of white leather shoes that were worth more than any pair of shoes had any right being. Frustrated with his failure to find anything suitable, Marshall dramatically collapsed onto his bed. He sent a selfie of his pathetic state to the group chat, captioning it:

i don’t WEAR black. send help.

It was in that moment, staring at the elaborate lighting fixture hanging from the ceiling, that Marshall Radley had an epiphany. MARTHA! His emo-rebel-artist-darkling sister! How could he not realize that sooner? Marshall sent a follow-up text through the Candyland group chat.

Nevermind! I have a plan. Also, I’m forcing Martha to come, so make room in that limo, bishes.

---

Thump, thump, thump, THUMP. For such a trim and lithe young man, Marshall sounded like a bull in a china closet as he clambered down the flight of stairs. With haste, he spun the corner in a flourish and then practically ran down the hall towards Martha’s bedroom.

“LETTIE! YOU GOTTA HELP ME!” Was the only warning that Martha received before her younger brother burst through the door. Knocking? Who does that? Certainly not this boy! “It’s an EMERGENCY!”

Unbeknownst to her brother’s dilemma, big sister Martha continued to work on her masterpiece. Humming along to “Change In The House of Flies” while Lestat fucked Akasha in the background, she continued to slowly cleaned up the edges of the male vampire’s luscious hair when…

THUMP!

The unexpected and loud sound of her bedroom door being savagely flung open caused Martha to jump in surprise. The wooden paintbrush she had held so delicately moments before fell to the floor with a clatter, gold paint splattering everywhere. She whipped her head around so fast it was a miracle her neck didn’t snap.

“Jesus, Marshall! Do you ever knock?” Martha asked, shaking her head as she bent down to pick up her tools of trade and wipe the paint off the floorboards with her hand. Her mother would not be too happy if the acrylic stains on the young woman’s bedroom floor continued to grow.

“Sorry, boo. It’s an emergency!” Marshall explained quickly, his bare chest rising and falling in soft pants from his previous sprint down the steps. His brain had finally caught up to the situation that he had just burst in on. Was his sister painting vampire porn? Should that even surprise him? No, not really, but there was a certain familiarity to the faces. One was definitely hers, and the other… “Is that — ”

Martha immediately raised a paint-stained hand, signaling her brother to hold back whatever it was he wanted to say. “Shut. Up. Don’t talk. Don’t say a word. Don’t even ask.” she trailed off, her stony face now bright red. The fact that she’d been caught red-handed on one of her weird fetishes was enough to embarrass her, but for her beloved brother to instantly recognize who the person she’d been painting was? Wishing for the Earth to open up and swallow would not do this situation enough justice.

She quickly moved to stand in front of the canvas, arms crossed in front of her, blocking her brother’s judgmental eyes from it. At least he hadn’t noticed where one of the vampire’s hands was strategically placed on the mortal woman’s breast. Then it would have been really awkward. “What do you want, anyway? What’s this about an emergency? Is everything okay?”

Marshall, for once, actually kept quiet, as he was told. His blue eyes lingered on the painting for a few moments before flicking back and forth to his sister. There was a teasing smile on his lips, not malicious in any way, it was more like the wheels in his Candy brain were turning. Regardless, he had come down here with a goal, and this little revelation did nothing but encourage him in that respect. “Right… yes. Emergency!”

“We’re going to a party tonight, and I absolutely need to raid your closet for it!” Marsh said, immediately turning his tone back to the chipper, frantic cadence that it was a few moments ago. He flitted over to said closest and began looking through the literal sea of black clothing that she had to spare. God bless his sister, this fallen angel, his actual savior.

“We?” Martha repeated, raising a haughty black eyebrow as she watched Marshall disappear inside her closet.

“Yes, we.” A disembodied voice called in response from the depths of somber clothing.

“You mean you are going to a party tonight. I’m not going anywhere. The cards advised me to stay in tonight.” she told her brother, pointing to the tarot cards spread out in formation across her mahogany desk. “Five of Wands, The Hanged Man and The Hermit? Not a very good combo.”

Marshall emerged with a prize clutched in his hands. A soft black cashmere tee, cut babydoll style. “No, I meant both of us. Maybe… maybe you’re reading into the cards too much, yeah?” He offered carefully, knowing how much she really believed in all of this witchy stuff. He did, of course, support her in it, but it did sometimes freak him out a little. Like, what if the Ouija board stuff got their house haunted by a demon or something? Yikes.

The young woman scowled at Marshall. “Not really. The cards have never failed me up to this very day. Hell, even my horoscope is saying that I should ‘beware of confrontations with people you might know’ —” she said those last words with air quotes. “So, I’m not taking any chances. Yes, The Hanged Man does say I’ll gain wisdom and a unique perspective if I do some self-sacrifice, but I’d rather not risk it.”

Her brother nodded in understanding and pulled the shirt he was holding over his head before spinning around to model it. “Does this make me look cute? Would you dick me in this outfit — you know, if you weren’t my sister… and if you were, uh, not a female?”

Martha took a moment to study her brother, carefully looking him over. The style of the cashmere blouse fit him well. Her full lips were put together in a pout: the sign of her being deep in thought. After a full five seconds, her mouth broke into a wide grin. “You look fabulous, MarMar,” she said sweetly, moving away from her place in front of the canvas to give him a hug and kiss on the cheek. “You’re going to slay at that party. Better send me lots of snaps.”

“Send you lots of snaps…” Marshall mumbled and shook his head like that statement would absolutely not be coming true. He wouldn’t be sending snaps, because she would be going to the damned party. The Radley stubbornness trait was matched only by a fellow Radley. Marsh turned to observe himself in a mirror. In his own style preferences, this would be best paired with a colorful scarf — something happy, and much less gothic.

“Hmm, it needs something. If I’m gonna wear black, I need to look badass. Dangerous, Lettie. You got something like that? Oh! Like a leather jacket! Yeah!”

Martha quickly nodded, pointing her brother in the direction of her closet again. “I’ve got a couple of those, alright. They’re at the very back.”

Without and further instruction, Marshall hurried back into the closet with a wide smile plastered on his face. Martha was the best! What would he have done without his sister coming in clutch? “What are you gonna wear, babes? You should probs wash some of that paint off.” The disembodied voice called from the closet again, this time paired with the rustling of metal hangers.

Martha scoffed, walking over to the edge of the bed and taking a seat while she waited for Marshall to show her his next pick. “I’m not wearing anything. I’ve already told you, I am not going to the stupid party.” she declared, reaching for her phone as she waited got her brother to come out and model his selected leather jacket of choice.

The moment the device came in contact with her hand, it vibrated, letting the young woman know she had pending notifications. When she pressed the lock button with a black-manicured thumb, the screen lit up, alerting her of unread messages from Savannah and Isaac. Martha narrowed her eyes at her phone, intrigued by the first five words of Savybaby’s last text message. She decided to read that one first, and when she did, she let out a loud gasp, nearly dropping her phone in shock.

“Honey, you better get here real fast, some girl’s taking your man.”

Martha closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to will her body to calm down. Instead, this only got her angrier, as the face of her possible opponent for the love and attention of her man filled her thoughts. She shook her head, opened her eyes and typed up a quick response to Sav. She needed to make sure about this.

What are you on about SavSav?
Plz don’t tell me what I think it is...

The Radley girl waited for Sav’s response with bated breath. Thankfully, it wasn’t long until her best friend delivered the blow to her:

Pippa’s all over Mr. Grey so come quick. If you wanna kiss him at midnight you srsly better hurry

“Fucking hell!” Martha muttered, slamming her phone on the bed next to her. There it was, the Five of Wands: rivalry, challenges and obstacles.

And Marshall still thought the cards were fake.

Positively seething with jealousy now, Martha grabbed her phone and furiously typed a strand of text messages back to her best friend, her long, black nails making tiny clicking noises as they rushed across the touchscreen keyboard.

Fuckin’ shit… I’m the only Ana to his Grey
Give me a sec, I’ll have MarMar give me a glow up
I’m gonna rock his world. just you wait.
#MarthaColletteWells2k43

After pressing send on that last message, Martha quickly stood up from her spot in the bed. She was going to stop this madness before it grew any further, and if there was a word to describe a Radley, it was determination.

“MarMar, I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to this party. Glow me the fuck up.” she declared, stretching to her full 5’8” Radley height, jaw and fists clenched in anger and determination.

Right on cue, Marshall stepped out of the closet, looking absolutely devastating in a bad boy kind of way, very much unlike his usual style. On his finger hung a ravishing looking dress that he could not ever once remember seeing his sister wear. “Fantastic! I knew I would convince you. Look, I’ve even found your outfit. Girlll, how have I never seen you wear this? Seems like the perfect thing for you to catch a vampire boyfriend with.” Marsh tossed the garment towards her and his face once again wore that mischievous Candyboy grin.

Big sister caught the garment before it could fall, but as she held it up for inspection, she cringed hard. A tight, sparkly dress? No freaking way. The young woman was quick to intervene. “Actually, babe, I think I’m just going to raid Margie’s closet. I’m sure she has a ton of clothes she never uses.” she told her brother, thinking of the world of possibilities that hid in the eldest Radley sister, Marjorie’s, closet. “Give me one second.”

She rushed off away from her room and into her sister’s, then dove straight into Margie’s closet. There was a very particular outfit she recalled seeing her sister in a few years before, worn for a similar party. Legend was that the outfit was lucky, because it had brought her sister the opportunity of sleeping with the one guy she’d wanted all along, but who had never paid her much attention before. God knew Margie was the bombshell of the family, who very much didn’t need some stupid clothing items to snag any man. But if she said it was lucky, then it was lucky, and Martha would need a lot of luck going into this party.

Less than five minutes later, Martha stepped into her room wearing the lucky outfit: a black Slayer graphic T-shirt, paired with a light blue, white and black plaid skirt, mid-calf boots, and a leather jacket. “What do you think?” she asked her brother, giving a twirl. Her plaid skirt and Chanel handbag swirled along with her before coming to a full stop.

“Ugh, to die for! Honestly, you pull off the chic punk look so much better than me. It’s fine, though, you’re right. We are both gonna slay tonight.” Marshall took a few steps closer to her to inspect fully. She still hadn’t got the paint off of her face. He licked his thumb and rubbed at her cheek in a rather maternal manner, removing the smudges. Martha cringed and grimaced as he did this. “There, better!”

Stepping back, he decided she needed one more adjustment before they would be perfectly ready to head out. Ophelia was currently blasting his phone to get outside before Hailey ordered a missile launch on the Radley residence. Marsh roughly fluffed his sister’s thick curls of hair, giving it a purposely messy look. “There, now you have sex hair. I read in Cosmo that straight dudes like it when your girls’ hair is a little wild looking. Listen, we gotta head out. Our ride is here. It’s a… really nice ride, so prepare yourself. It’ll be fun!”

“I think I’m going to need more than just fake sex hair to make anything happen tonight,” Martha lamented, stuffing her handbag with the basics: mauvey-rose lipstick, liquid eyeliner, highlighter (for that bomb-ass glow), a compact mirror, Altoids, her keys, and a miniature version tarot card pack. Before she could place her phone in the bag, Martha typed out a quick few responses to Savannah.

SHUT UP!!! I’m coming I’m coming
Better call out a Hail Mary so I don’t stab a bitch
#jesustakethefuckingwheel

Now satisfied, Martha dropped her cellphone into the handbag and turned to her brother with a wide, wicked grin. “Ready to go, MarMar. Let's get on with this shit. Jesus take the fucking wheel.”

This school was fucking nuts. No, seriously, from the top to the bottom. It was disgusting to an extent. Owen was just trying to do what he was supposed to do: keep the HOT girls from getting inside of the premise, and so far he’d done just that. Now, the unfortunate side effect of his positioning was that he had to watch the interactions of newcomers and people who were already there alike.

Which meant when Shauna (fuck Shauna) was, well, herself, Owen Lyon was there to witness it in all of its glory. This also meant the ensuing shouting match between Sol and Kayleb, taking place in front of God and all of his children was there for everyone to see. Swear to God, it was like something right out of one of the shows his dad watched.

Some soap opera bullshit, screaming and yelling and bitching. Sol didn’t realize it, but her whole take on the situation with Kayleb was like… the most womanly thing she’d ever done. It was so poetically womanly to fall in love with someone, then ignore them in public so no one judged you for having a boyfriend was next level. It was like some kind of shitty romance novel his mother would have bought at a gas station.

And they did that stupid thing. The thing that made zero sense to Owen: calling people by their last name. This wasn’t a movie, dude. People didn’t do that in real life, you never knew someone’s last name, but not their first name unless you cared about them. So really, good job Shady baby. You blew your whole cover. COVER YOU DIDN’T EVEN NEED TO HAVE IN THE FIRST PLACE.

Owen didn’t get why Sol made such a big deal out of having a secret relationship with Kay. He’d been very happy with his relationship up until its rather untimely demise; even now, in a lot of ways, it was that relationship that kept him driven. Why didn’t Sol want that? He’d never understand.

Women. Honestly.

But hey, love them or hate them, Sol was one of, if not his best, friends. Which meant it was his responsibility to at least address things. God, he should have gotten a beer. But he knew that he was already emotionally volatile, and the last thing he needed was alcohol to accent that. So, here he was, about to do the friendly thing. “So, I mean, that happened. That makes you guys a happy couple, right?” Okay. He tried. Don’t expect too much from him Sol, this was his best ditch effort.

Meanwhile, Soleil had remained motionless at the spot, trying to process what had just happened and what it meant. Kay had not only just outed them in from of everyone, but she had gone the distance of telling him those three words. And he had reciprocated her feelings, going as far as to say them back and give her a moment the second he noticed she was overwhelmed.

She was at a loss for words, torn on what to say or what to do or not do.

Owen’s voice brought her back from her reverie. She turned to look in his direction with an cross between a smile and a grimace. “I mean, I guess…" Sol trailed off, moving her eyes from Owen’s face and to the floor. She began to dig the front part of her white Adidas sneaker in the patch of dirt in front of her. “See, here's the thing. You're my best bro, and I'm not going to stand here and bullshit you. But this thing with Kay? It's kind of fucking terrifying.”

“Well, it shouldn’t be. Quite frankly, it ought to make you happier than you’ve ever been —”

“He does make me happy. I swear to God he does. It's just that I feel so feminine-” she cringed at the word, never thinking it could ever apply to her. “When I'm with him. Like, I've built up all my rep as one of the guys, and I've done so well on it that people legit doubt I have a vagina between my legs instead of a dick." Sol smiled at that last comment, thinking about how Lawrence said she was ‘as close to a bro as possible without having a dick’. But her smile turned to worry in a second.

“But Kay just makes me feel like such a fucking girl dude. He can give me one single look or a smile and I'm here acting all vanilla and shit. Who the fuck does that? Like, man, he could tell me to go throw myself off a bridge, and if it meant that I would get to be with him, I wouldn't hesitate. It's so fucking crazy, the level of control some people just have in you. I just… I just don’t want to get hurt..." she admitted, feeling positively pathetic about having to admit defeat in the match against her own heart. “I mean, just look at what happened to my parents, you, the Shauna incident… It's enough to have me crapping my pants about this whole issue with feelings. I swear, I feel more in danger of getting seriously hurt with Kay than I feel when I'm up on the ring in the middle of a fight."

“Well, I wasn’t quite finished, but that’s okay… Look, everyone feels feminine sometimes. And, y’know, emotions are impossible to control — you’re human, Sol. Sometimes you just have to bow to them. Do what your heart tells you, sometimes. It’s better that way, but shit always happens and shit hurts. Just focus on chasing happiness, and when you have it — you clutch it and you never let go. If things happen and you break up… well, it’ll suck. You saw how I was. Hell, you see how I am. It’s not painless, having a relationship. But a life without them? Without love? That sounds even more hellish than the pain I’m feeling now. I’d do it all over again, exactly like I did. Don’t be afraid of what people think about, don’t be afraid of being hurt. Being hurt is inevitable, that’s part of being human, Sol. It’s what you do and how you react to being hurt that makes you who you are. Are you gonna be the person who runs away from hurt, or are you gonna be the person that says fuck it, and runs the gauntlet? Whatever happens, happens. Fuck everybody else.” Owen said, folding his arms over his chest as he stared over at Sol, shaking his head. “I get what you’re saying, but dude, you can’t run your life based on trying to have people think you’re someone, plus no one is going to judge you for being happy. ‘Cept for maybe Shauna, but she’s gonna judge you anyway. Fuck her.”

Sol had listened in silence to Owen’s motivational speech, keeping her eyes glued to the floor. The fact that Owen was still such an intense and faithful believer in love even after he had gotten his heart ripped apart by that Trixie woman really opened up Shady’s eyes and perspective to how ungrateful she'd been. Here was Kay, a guy she was sure would take a bullet for her, handing her his heart on a silver platter and completely willing to give her the world and beyond. And what had she done? Hide him as if he was some shameful secret, just because she’d been too busy caring about her rep.

What a selfish cunt.

“Huh. I never really saw it that way…" Shady mused, dragging her eyes away to face Owen for the first time in the last few minutes. “Guess I was too busy being a bitch andd giving a damn about others instead of caring about the one I should have been paying attention to all along."

Suddenly, Sol stood up straighter, determination clear in her face. Her hands were balled into fists beside her. “Well, that changing right now. I'm letting everyone know that Kayleb’s dick is mine, and that I will use your father’s lessons to punch to death anyone that fucking dares intervene."

Having said this, Soleil turned on her heel and begin to stomp away in the direction of the party, fully intent on finding her boyfriend. However, she suddenly stopped short not even a few steps away. The young woman turned her head to looked back at Owen. ““You gonna be okay there by yourself, Big O?" she asked, her usually crass manner the slightest bit softer.

Owen cringed slightly at the name, but nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. What’s the worst that could happen? The night’s still young. Go get it in before the tents smell like booze and bad decisions.”

Soleil smiled at her best friend, deciding to pull yet another girl move by planting a big kiss on his cheek while giving him a quick hug. “Thanks, dude. Here's to giving fucking Shauna a real reason to judge me." With one last wink at Owen, Shady turned around and made her way to the party, getting swallowed quickly by the crowd and disappearing from sight.

Hailey was growing impatient. Truly, she knew the blame for their tardiness was on herself; she had chosen not to leave earlier. She had known perfectly well that Ophelia and her girls would take an eternity to prepare themselves for any social outing, particularly a party. Then there was the unknown factor of Sean Sterling, the returner. Hailey had no way of knowing how efficient he would be. She should have set aside more time.

The blame was on her shoulders, yes, but there was certainly no reason for her to be happy about it. So, when she tapped her wrist and looked across the way at Ophelia, before snapping to grab the Candyland Queen’s attention away from her cell phone, Lia had just shrugged. It wasn’t her fault! Marshall was his own person…

“I’m texting him. Like, a lot. What more do you want me to do?” She said in a defeated voice, looking around the limo for help, but noted that she would find none when she realized what her girls (and Jamie) were doing.

Meanwhile, across the way, Sean — who had placed himself very close to his sister, not much wanting to interact with these people he did not know — leaned to her ear and whispered, “_{Por favor, diles que dejen de mirarme.}” He said softly enough for only her to hear. Truth be told, the two girls flanking the one who never looked up from her phone, and the boy from before… kinda made Sean feel like a piece of meat on display. It was uncomfortable, to say the least.

_{“Ellos no te reconocen. Di hola.”} Selena responded to her twin in a hushed whisper.

Ophelia shook her head and sighed, sending out one last desperate text:

GUMDROP HURRY B4 HAILEY ORDERS U AND UR FAMILY’S DEATHS

“Ahem.” Trixie purposely cleared her throat loudly to break the tension, or at least try to. New faces. Late people. A wrathful Queen. “Why don’t we… start drinking?! I mean we can’t arrive at the party without feeling buzzed. Here.” Shifting in her seat, Trixie opened the storage unit by her right leg and grabbed the… of course Hailey would only have hard liquor. Shots of whiskey it is! Gross. In a matter of minutes, with still time to spare (man, whatever they were doing, they were taking their SWEET time), shot glasses had been filled to the rim with whiskey and passed around. One for every single person in the limousine. “Hailey, why don’t you give us a little toast while we wait? For good karma!”

To say that Brynn was shook was the understatement of the year. The moment that Sean stepped into the limo, the girl’s jaw nearly hit the floor, and she tried her best not to pass out right there. Who was this blonde haired, dark eyed angel, and why had she not been in his bed before? Brynn began plotting how exactly she would seduce the boy, but was brought out of these daydreams by Trixie passing around shot glasses of whiskey. The only thing that could distract her from boys was alcohol.

Since the night had begun, Jamie had seen Selena’s brother both half naked and fully naked, survived part of a car ride with the Bitch Queen herself, Hailey Green-Locke, and was now about to take a shot of whiskey with the It Girls and the Candies. Whoever said ambition didn’t pay off, was dead wrong. As he shot back the whiskey, fire flooding his insides as the whiskey traveled down, he noted that poor Sean was the object of too many of the passengers’ watchful eyes, his own included. If that boy survives the night without one of us ending up in his bed, he’ll be lucky. Or unlucky. Who knows at this point?

Much like her cousin had just done to gain attention, Selena also cleared her throat. “Jamie already was introduced —” her eyes flicked over to the sandy-haired boy, recalling the more-than-awkward interaction that they’d had, and cringing internally for it. “— but this is my twin brother, Sean. He’s been away at a different school for a few years, but he’s back now.” Selena’s face broke into a genuine grin then, more true than anything most of the people in that limo had ever seen from her — aside from Trixie, of course. For the first time in years, Selena had something real to smile about, and it felt great. She squeezed her twin’s hand comfortingly as she introduced him, sensing his discomfort. Call it twintuition.

A toast? Was Trixie serious? Of course, Trixie would want a toast. Hailey raised an eyebrow when Trixie pulled out the whiskey — why didn’t she grab the champagne, or the wine? Hailey truly didn’t understand this woman; she hadn’t been herself ever since she and that treacherous leech Owen had broken up. Luckily for her, Selena stepped in before she had to give a ‘toast.’ Rather than respond, “With all due respect, Trixie. Let’s let introductions commence first. Plus, the Radleys will be here shortly.” She nodded in the direction of the thirst mongers, Jamie and Brynn.

Shrugging at Hailey, Trixie poured herself another burning, unpleasant shot of whiskey, because why not? It would hit her hard and fast. That’s exactly what she needed. “Well, I’m just going to help myself then.” Was she turning into a alcoholic? Oh god, she hoped not. This shit was nasty. Her eyes darted across the way to Sean and for a good, long moment, she stared with narrowed eyes at his almost perfectly symmetrical face. Examining him like she did when she met any new person. Sean… “My, my, my. You’ve gotten big.” She may have not seen her second cousin in years, but she could recognize those eyes any day. Anywhere.

Jamie shook his head at Trixie’s comment. “Oh, you have no idea,” Jamie said, louder than he’d anticipated. In fact, he hadn’t even been anticipating saying that. His face flushed crimson as he looked up at the stares he was receiving from the rest of the limo. Selena, who had attempted to take her shot precisely at the moment Jamie spoke up, noticeably choked in shock. Awkward.

A rational adult would have marked that as the point where one should stop drinking, even if it had only been one shot. But Jamie was seventeen, and believed that drinking could solve embarrassment, rather than enhance it. And so, he quietly and gently took the bottle of whiskey from Trixie, and poured himself another shot, which he quickly drank, or rather swallowed. Oh, Jesus Christ, get me through this night, I’m begging you.

After what seemed like a millennia in stasis, whilst the limo idled in the circular driveway of the Radley residence, the front door finally cracked open. Marshall exited first, pulling his sister in tow excitably. He skipped down the steps and over to the limo’s door, which the driver now held open for the siblings.

“Heyyy~” Marshall cooed enthusiastically as he entered the luxurious vehicle. His eyes quickly found her, his Candy Queen, and he was helpless but to greet her in his usual way — despite the physical distance between them. Marsh climbed over all of the passengers, his dancer’s grace making it look surprisingly easy even though he was quite tall. Once he got to Ophelia, they touched cheeks on both sides, making kissing sounds in the familiar european greeting.

Having succeeded in his goal, Marsh made his way back towards his own seat — once again climbing over all of the passengers. It was then that he noticed that one face was not like the others. Who was that boy, no, that man sitting next to SelBell? Marshall stopped and very shamelessly stared at him. There was something familiar about him, but Marshall couldn’t quite put his finger on it. But, boy, would he sure love to put more than just a finger on it.

Sean, who had declined the offered shot, cleared his throat and spoke loudly for all the occupants of the limo to hear. “I WOULD APPRECIATE IT IF ALL OF YOU WOULD STOP STARING AT ME. I AM A HUMAN BEING, NOT AN ANIMAL ON DISPLAY.” With that, he turned his attention back down to his lap, but the damage was done: not only was Sean hot, he had a deep, booming voice.

“Never yell in such a close vicinity to me, ever again.” Hailey couldn't care less what Sean looked or sounded like.

Marshall startled when the mystery guy suddenly barked out his rejection. His eyes widened, but only momentarily, before he apologized. “Sorry, hun. Just didn’t recognize you.” Following that, he went to sit by his sister. Wait, Martha wasn’t there, and the limo had already left their driveway. Panicked, he texted her to make sure she was still coming. They’d come so far, she couldn’t just bail now!

Brynn blushed a deep shade of burgundy, realizing she had no excuse, like Marshall did. It wasn’t her fault that Sean was so attractive. For the first time since he got into the limo, she looked away, deciding to bring her attention to Marshall. “What took you so long?? We’ve been waiting for ages.” She started, grabbing another shot of whiskey to help her forget about the ordeal which just took place.

Hailey let out a low sigh and tapped her knuckle on the window. It slid open for her, and she spoke to the driver, her beloved Butler, James. “Some music, please, Butler. Something soothing, preferably. Classical.” There was some sound of acceptance from the driver, and the window closed as music began to play throughout the limo. Leaning her head back against the pillow, Hailey finished her glass of whiskey and closed her eyes. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m fairly sure this is on track to be the worst night of my year. Not of my life, to be sure, but certainly of my year.”

Marsh looked to his fellow Candy, Brynn, and smiled apologetically. “It takes a minute to look this good, babes. There was that, and the matter of… vampire porn.”

For the second time in the same evening, Brynn couldn’t help her jaw falling directly to the floor once again, a dramatic gasp escaping her lips. “I’m sorry, WHAT? Where, who, how, and why?” The girl tried to wrap her head around the statement, and also tried her best not to look over at Sean’s reaction. She really needed some horse blinders right about now.

Jamie looked up at Sean after he blew up, then quickly glanced back down. He hated to admit that his voice was hot as fuck. That felt wrong. He’d just blew up about being objectified and here Jamie was, objectifying him. Luckily, Marshall was here now, and he could objectify him with less guilt. As he sat in the limo, trying to avoid the tension wafting off of Hailey, he tuned into Brynn and Marshall’s conversation, right at the wrong moment. Vampire porn. Interesting, and thoroughly weird. Tuning back out, he turned to the rest of the passengers. “So, how exactly, are we gonna get in to this thing?”

“Jamie, hush.” Ophelia said, having finally pulled herself up from her phone. Ignoring almost everyone else in the limo, she turned her attention to Marshall. “Vampire porn. Go on, please, Gumdrop.” She said with a flash of the game winning smile she was practicing to use on the Elite to get them into this fucking party.

“Ehh,” Marshall shrugged as if what he had just said was no big deal. In his world, with his rather strange sister, it wasn’t all that outlandish. “It was a bit too hetero for my tastes, but, ya know. I could ship it.”

“Marshall, Marshall, Marshall.” Trixie was feelin’ good and this conversation intrigued her. She scooted closer in the direction of Marshall, leaning over, which kind of showed a bit of her cleavage, “Paint me a picture. Tell me all about this vampire porn. I want to know more. Position and all.” Was she drunk? Yeah. Definitely. The whiskey bottle was already over a halfway gone.

Marshall’s eyebrow quirked up at Trixie’s already slurred words. Invoking his maternal nature for the second time that night, he finessed the bottle from her grasp and poured a shot for himself, before passing the whiskey off in the opposite direction of Trixie. “Oh, there was a picture painted, alright. I mean, the level of detail…” Marsh’s eyes were wide as he shook his head a little, and then smirked. “But, that’s besides the point, ladies. I have a very special job for Candyland. It’s very dear to my heart, you see, because my beloved Martha is at the center of it. I have made a discovery.”

Perhaps unfortunately for Marshall, it wasn’t Candyland that spoke up. It was the witch queen. “Marshall. Don’t take things from Trixie. She wasn’t done with that.” Hailey shook her head dismissively and turned around, retrieving another bottle of alcohol — this one of pineapple rum. She opened it and leaned over to Trixie, pouring another glass for her. “Enjoy, beautiful.”

Lia looked over at this heinous display of alcoholism and internally groaned. This entire night was FUCKED. It was BONED. However, she turned her attentions to Marshall, doing her best to ignore Trixie’s apparent alcoholism. “Of course we’ll help you with that, Gumdrop. We’d be honored. Go on!”

“I have a new drink in my hand. When did that happen?” The words of her peers were going in one ear and out the other for Trixie Kingsley. Her mind was set. They were about to go to a party where Owen will be inconveniently placed in spite of her. She was not ready for that. Her solution? Drink.

The boy was just trying to help, to look out for one of his girls, who was apparently dead set on drinking herself into a coma. This… this was all Owen’s fault. His adultery broke Trixie-pixie’s spirit, and that was unforgivable. To make matters worse, Hailey was encouraging Trixie’s dangerous behavior. There was no point in making a scene about it, some battles aren't worth fighting — mostly those involving confronting Hailey Green.

“Well, great! Grayson Wells, you know the guy? Shaggy hair, on the football team, a little bit edgy looking? Preeeetty sure my sis is into him. Let’s make it happen, but, delicately. She’s my sister.” Marshall said, expressing the seriousness of the situation. If they fucked up her chances at love, he’d never recover from such a tragedy.

“That’s so exciting Marshall!! The Candies are definitely on the case.” Brynn replied, her smile brighter than ever. She loved doing this kind of thing, mostly because she liked getting in everyone’s business, but also because she wanted to see people happy. “Maybe we can get the ball rolling at the party tonight? Test the waters, see what the situation is?”

“You certainly may, but first there is something we need to do.” Hailey looked around the group, before leaning across the way to one of the small fridges in the limo, pulling out a plate. She sat back in her seat, gazing at the cupcake that rested on the center of the plate. It was chocolate, with a peanut butter frosting, and half off of a peanut butter cup sitting on top of it. She looked around the vehicle, before her attention eventually landed on Jamie.

She held out the plate.

“Eat the cupcake, Jamie.”

Jamie froze. He didn’t trust Hailey. He wasn’t one to trust easily in the first place, but Hailey was not the kind of person you easily trusted, either. His mind was racing. She wouldn’t be trying to poison him, right? That would be insane. Cool it, Jamie. It’s just a cupcake. Even if it was offered in the most ominous way possible. As the sand filled the bottom of the hourglass, Jamie reached out and took the cupcake, and then lifted it to his mouth, and took a bite. “Oh wow! Is that, peanut butter frosting? Oh, shit that’s good!”

“Thank you. I baked it myself.” Hailey smiled brightly in Jamie’s direction, seemingly satisfied. “Enjoy, it’s all yours. Once you get far enough in, there’s some peanut butter filling too — but I believe I made it far too… well, creamy. The frosting, I believe, is ace.” Hailey liked to bake, and she liked to have her baked goods judged — but all of her girlfriends were on diets (Marshall included), and Sean was… weird. It fell on Jamie to be the designated taste tester.

Happy, she turned her attention to Ophelia. “As our local wordsmith, it falls on you to convince Owen to let us in.” Hailey said.

Ophelia silently gulped, then beamed brightly, holding up two thumbs. Easy. Turn the slut up, get this shit done.

Under her breath, while deeply gazing into her glass, Trixie mumbled to herself, “Kitty…”

Truly, all Owen Lyon wanted in life was a moment of clarity. At this point in time, it seemed no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, that moment of clarity would escape him. It started with Kayleb and Sol beefing — because of Shauna (fuck Shauna). They were coming, and he knew they were coming because he could sniff them in the air. No, seriously. Their perfume, their scent was wafting in the air. Even that fucker, Marshall.

He could even pick out their different scents. Ophelia’s — that of a snake. Brynn’s — that of an Airhead, watermelon flavored. Marshall’s — that of a sour grape. Hailey’s — that of a burnt piece of toast. Selena’s — that of a spoiled glass of milk. And, of course, Trixie’s — that of a delicious key lime pie.

Aright. Maybe he was pressing a bit; Trixie’s was the most accurate of his mental descriptions. The rest of them? He just smelled what he wanted to smell. They were nonetheless distinct. Though, as they approached he could see other people with them. A tall blonde boy, and… Jamie. He knew Jamie. Here we go…

Once they were close enough, Owen held up a hand and shook his head. “Uh-uh. We don’t want what you’re selling. Get back in the limo and let it take you to the depths of Hades from whence you came.”

Sean leaned down to his sister. “_{Who’s that?}”

“Our cousin’s ex, Owen.” Selena responded quietly to her brother. She followed up with the more sensitive piece of information in an even lower voice, speaking in spanish now. _{“Hay fotos de él con otra chica. El infiel.”} Speaking of cheating, Owen was looking awfully cozy with Soleil in that moment. This was going to go swimmingly, you could tell by the wat that you could practically cut the tension with a knife.

If a stare could kill, oh boy, Trixie’s would. Her dark gaze was rigid, cold, distant. The once so bubbly, happy, and ready to drink girl that was in the limousine moments ago, was now heated. She knew Owen and Soleil were close, like kissing his cheek and pressing her breast on him close, but add alcohol to the mix? Beatrix’s emotions seeped out, where her eyes were sharpened knives digging into the victim’s ribs, digging deeper, and deeper, right where it hurt. Those eyes that once had love in them only two months ago, before everything fell apart, were completely empty. The unmoving gaze was accompanied by slow, patient breathing. Here, standing before her, was the man she loved, and regrettably, still did. Unapologetically, and with a pinch of bitter spice, Trixie scoffed, “Already moved on from the last one, Owen?” With a sloppy, yet confidant saunter, Trixie went beside her beloved Hailey.

Brynn couldn’t help but cringe at the entire situation that was occuring in front of them. Not only was Owen being absolutely terrible, but Soleil just happened to be perched right next to him, looking quite enamored. Talk about throwing salt in a wound that was still fresh and bleeding. _{“This is much worse than I thought it was going to be. I should’ve finished that bottle of tequila when I had the chance...”} She whispered to Marshall, who was standing to her left, in a hushed tone, making sure no one else was listening.

The world around Jamie was moving, very, very, slowly. Too slowly, some might say. Holy fuck, am I high? Jamie thought as he followed the group up to the front steps of the beach house, a trek that felt like it took fifty minutes, instead of ten seconds. Jamie wasn’t one for weed normally, in fact he’d only ever been high once, in sophomore year. This was new. And it was terrifying. He could feel the emotions of the group wafting off of him, intensified by the weed. Owen was angry, but hurt, and he could tell. Wow that one was hitting hard. Trixie on the other hand, was...sad. Like, really sad. This is soooooo bad. So bad. So bad. Oh my god, I’m high. Oh my god. Oh my god.

Ophelia stepped up to the plate, perhaps foolishly. She had this, easy. She was a wordsmith, a silver-tongued goddess. Not even this guy could say no. “Owen, we’re just here to enjoy the New Year’s! It isn’t our fault all of our friends are here —”

“You don’t have any friends.” Owen said before Lia could even finish her second sentence.

Okay… not going well so far. Ophelia prepared for round two, but Owen was talking faster than she could. Which was… a new experience for her, to say the least.

“Why does Trixie smell like cheap vodka and bad decisions? You two know she’s a lightweight; you’re supposed to be her friends, and you let her get like this before trying to get in here? What is wrong with you?” He demanded, staring at Hailey and Ophelia with an undeniable anger in his eyes. Seriously? She was almost falling on her ass just walking here. Idiots.

Hailey, who was sipping from a can of Sprite through a bright green bendy straw, shook her head. “I’m sorry that we allow her more freedom than you did, but unfortunately for you, your ability to control Trixie went up in flames the minute you cheated on her and betrayed her. Your own fault, really.”

NOT. HELPING.

Marshall, who had been observing the situation from the vantage point of Ophelia’s right hand side, stood with his arms crossed over his chest. This was some juicy shit, and he was into it. He cocked up an eyebrow following Hailey’s words, as if challenging Owen to attempt to defend himself. The lecherous cheat, whatever would he have to say for himself?

“Hailey, why don’t you shut your fucking mouth?” Owen said, not noticing his left hand’s fingers begin to tap against each other. “Look, man, you might have those clowns —” His right hand gestured at the rest of the entourage that surrounded her, “fooled, but I’m not falling for it. So, get back in your car, and get the fuck out of here. And make sure Trix doesn’t choke to death on her own vomit, you bitch.”

Hailey silently sipped at her Sprite. Keep going.

As much as her defenses wanted to drop, as much as she wanted to drop the act, Trixie’s gaze was no longer on Owen’s face. He was doing the thing. His fingers. He was getting exceedingly angry, which could lead to… “Guys, come on. He’s not worth our time. Why don’t we just go back and have our own party?” Desperately, she looked at Hailey, whose expression was stone cold, and then she scurried to Lia, “Do you really think all this is necessary? Come on, Fifi. Please.”

Ophelia though, had her eyes trained on Owen, looking for something she could play off of. It definitely wouldn’t be sex, that much was for sure. Owen looked like he’d rather bite all of their throats out then fuck the wounds, rather than fuck them the right way. There was some kind of play, right? She leaned down to Trixie, “_{Hey, what’s he doing with his hand?}” She asked, pointing.

Hailey rolled her eyes at Trixie’s request, pulling the straw from her mouth. “Why on earth would we do that, when we have a perfectly fine party going on here? Besides, Trixie. We could find you a nice boy here. One that will treat you right and respectfully.”

Owen’s hand moved faster, and Lia furrowed her brow. Was that the play? Worth a shot! Couldn’t get any worse. “You should let us in, dude. You don’t need to stand here all day. It looks like you’re having a seizure, or something, with your hand there. You need weed! Go inside. I’ll light the joint for you.”

Owen’s fingers moved faster.

“Hello? Earth to Owen Lyon. Are you there? It’s me, Ophelia. Jesus, Trixie, you never told us he was autistic. No wonder he cheated on you! Didn’t realize what he had.”

Owen’s hand turned into a fist.

“TRIXIE WHY DON’T YOU SHUT THAT CUNT’S MOUTH BEFORE I COME OVER THERE AND FUCK START HER HEAD?”

“OPHELIA, FUCKING STOP IT.” Trixie’s face turned a pale white.

Brynn gasped. She gasped so loudly that god could probably hear her. Stunned couldn’t even begin to describe how she was processing this situation. What had gotten into Owen? More importantly, how was Trixie coping with this interaction? Turning to see Trixie’s face, which resembled that of the ghost of Christmas past, she tugged on Marshall’s sleeve. “I think we should probably abandon ship.”

Meanwhile, standing behind the others, Hailey sipped at her Sprite. On her face, was a ghost of a smile. Perfect. There you go. End this, Owen.

Marshall heard the gasp to his right. Hell, even his own initial response was to gasp alongside her. This pathetic boy in front of him used to be a man that he considered a friend, a good friend, even. But what he just said about Marshall’s Candy Queen, after all of the hurt that he has and still is putting Trixie-pixie through, this… this was completely unforgivable. Not heeding Brynn’s words in the slightest, Marshall stepped forward, feeling Brynnie’s fingers release his jacket sleeve as he did so. “How dare you say that. Apologize, now.”

There were a lot of noises and Jamie was not having it. His eyes were wide as he took in the scene before him: the shouting, the tension, the storm brewing over the horizon. Marshall stepping forward caused his stomach to drop. He could see this going south quickly. Oh no, oh no no no. Jamie was scared, terrified of what was happening. Music blasting, voices shouting, everything spinning. ”Hey, uh, let’s just, chill guys,” Jamie managed to eek out, joining Brynn on the road of peace.

The road of peace would not be reached, as Marshall Radley had done perhaps the dumbest thing in his arsenal. Brave, certainly. But not intelligent. He picked a fight with Owen — someone Marshall knew damn well spent half of his fucking life at the gym, training to fight. And he did it while Owen was already mad. In the blink of an eye, Owen had his hands on Marshall’s collar, and had lifted him up and spun him around, pushing him back against the wall, hard. Owen, as it happened, had a lot of practice with pushing feminine bodies against walls. Thanks, Trix.

“WHAT. ARE. YOU. GOING. TO DO? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA DO, MARSHALL? HUH?”

”Oh wow,” Jamie said, taking a quick breath when he realized he hadn’t been breathing thanks to the tension.

He fucked up.

In hindsight, Marshall could recall the exact moment where this all went wrong. He shouldn’t have stepped up to Owen. It was a stupid move, so incredibly stupid. But he did it, for the sake of his girls, he would do anything for them. No one deserved to be treated like that, and yet, where would such chivalry get him? Marshall knew Owen, he knew full well that the coiled muscles of his arms — arms that were currently pinning him against a wall — could make quick work of literally any man at this party.

Owen’s strength wasn’t even the worst part, though. Sure, the thin dancer boy was outmatched in every way possible right now. That was fine. Sure, he was just blatantly screamed at, from not even centimeters away from his own face — that was... a new experience. But the worst part was the cold, dead look in Owen’s eyes — the eyes of a person that used to be one of his closest friends. He was… he was going to kill him. Marshall was quite sure, in that moment, that he was not making it to see the year 2043, and the only response that he had to that knowledge, was to shake.

Instinctively, as if it were second nature to her, Trixie attempted to rush toward Owen’s side and absentmindedly called him by the nickname she gave to him when they first started to date, “Kitty! He didn’t mean any harm.” And as if she predicted this moment coming, Hailey reached for Trixie’s wrist and gripped tightly on it, like a dog on a leash. “Please don’t hurt him.” Her voice started to shake.

Sean realized that now was his time to step in. He had planned to give them the space to work things out themselves, and not really interfere. Unfortunately, he could tell that Owen would slaughter Marshall if given a reason — and he’d been given a reason. He glanced down at his sister and shrugged his shoulders, almost apologetically, before he took a step forward, placing a hand on Owen’s shoulder. “You need to stop.” Sean said firmly, but gently.

The response from Owen was almost immediately. He dropped Marshall, letting him collapse to the ground, and spun on his heel, immediately turning his fury onto the new boy. “You don’t know what’s going on here, so you’d better back the fuck down before I knock your fucking teeth down your throat.” Owen walked toward him, but Sean did not back down. Owen got in his face, and their foreheads touched.

Oh, Jesus, here we go.

Owen stared at Sean for a few moments, pressing his forehead against his, before he spoke. Owen’s voice had morphed and changed over the last few seconds. While at the beginning of their meeting, he may have been called ‘calm,’ or even ‘collected,’ that was gone. Now, Owen Lyon spoke in a voice befitting of his name: a low, dangerous growl. “You had better hit me or kiss me, pussy.”

Yikes. Okay.

Sean curled a fist up and swung for Owen’s head, and it looked like Owen, for all intents and purposes, was fully prepared to take the hit… but halfway through the air, Sean’s fist uncurled and instead went to the back of Owen’s head, pulling him. Sean, had chosen option B. He kissed him.

Now it was Selena’s turn to gasp. Since when did her brainiac brother interfere with fights? Since when did he do so by kissing the offender? Her wide blue eyes studied the display before her. Eventually, her brain caught up to the times. She flicked her gaze over to Marshall, who was literally still on his ass where Owen had dropped him. The poor thing!

Trixie froze at the scene. What?

”Oh wow.”

If it was even remotely possible, Brynn gasped even louder than she had before. If god had heard the last one, probably all of the aliens on Mars could hear this one. “You can’t make this shit up, I swear.”

Hailey sipped at her Sprite, and her nose crinkled in disgust when it returned only the noise of an empty can. Casually, she dropped it to the sandy floor beneath her, and looked at Ophelia, who had pulled Trixie over to her. Hailey let go of Trixie’s wrist and shrugged her shoulders. Meanwhile, Owen broke out of Sean’s grasp (that had lasted MUCH longer than he was comfortable with)...

“What the fuck?! GO AWAY!”

From behind all the chaos, a small girl with newly red hair pranced past the shocked individuals, having no idea what had just happened - and not really caring. “Owen. Permission to come in?” Joy Darling beamed her dimple smile and then glanced around her at everyone else, “Oh hey guys. Trixie, long time no see!” Trixie simply responded with a nod, as she held tight to herself… wanting to fall, but knowing she had to stand tall and be strong.


Owen turned his attention to this newcomer, and… truth be told, given how his night had went so far, he had no idea who it was. “Who the fuck are you? We’re not taking anymore stragglers. Get lost kid, maybe Hailey can give you a ride home.” As he spoke, Sean, realizing that the situation had been appropriately defused, returned to his spot beside his sister, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets.

“Oh shut the fuck up before I tell Daddums on you. Now let me in, this isn’t funny.” Joy crossed her arms, giving her brother an impatient stare, “Oh and stop being petty. These people are my plus ones. It’s the New Year. Ya’ll need to get over yourselves and enjoy the damn night. The invitation was basically a declaration of war. Stupid. Only an idiot wouldn’t expect them to come.”

Owen knew who it was. Bitch. Blood traitor. He’d deal with her later. There was only one thing to do, to ensure that none of them made it past the velvet rope he’d been set to guard. Owen pulled a walkie-talkie off of his belt and held it up to his mouth, breathing rather heavily (a bit exhausted from emotions), and hit the button. “Damian, Joy’s here. At least, I think it’s Joy. She has red hair now, which is stupid.”

“...does she?” Damian’s response was loud enough to be picked up by the others present.

“Yeah.”

“Well, what’s the problem? Just send her in.”

“She wants to bring Hailey and her bitch brigade in as plus ones.” This elicited a long pause from El Jefe. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, there was a response.

“...she cute?”

Owen let out a long sigh, glancing over at Joy. “Yeah… she’s alright.” Behind Owen, one of the blinds of the house was pulled back, and Damian (making a terrible attempt to hide himself) could be seen peering at the scene.

“Yeah, alright, dude. Executive call here. We yield. Send ‘em in. BUT. Send Joy like directly to me.” The walkie talkie cut, and Owen threw his against a rock, shattering it. Then, he took his free hand and unhooked the velvet rope.

“You heard him.”

Before anyone could react, Trixie was already bolting inside, away from everyone and through the crowd. She disappeared from everyone’s sight.

Jamie couldn’t believe he’d survived this encounter. The Cowardly Lyon was clearly no coward. He looked around at the others, his eyes bloodshot, and quickly followed Trixie in, giving Sean a thumbs up as he passed by and disappeared into the living room, nowhere near a sufficient thank you for what he’d done, but all that Jamie could muster at the moment.

Brynn rushed over to Marshall’s aid, helping him off of the ground and brushing off his leather jacket. “Oh my god, are you okay, boo?” After checking him over for any bumps or bruises, she turned to Sean, who was clearly the knight in shining armor of the evening. “Thank you.” She endearingly stated, being extra careful not to look at him the wrong way. Turning back to Marshall she began to escort him inside. “I think we both need a drink after that one.”

Sean, noticing that Hailey was pulling his sister away from him (like, physically away from him), quickly stepped up next to Brynn and Marshall, wrapping an arm around Marshall to support him instead of Brynn. “Look, I could use a drink too. Why don’t we just get one together? I got him. It’s easier for me.”

The brunette’s worried face became at ease immediately, as the weight was lifted off her shoulders, quite literally. Turning to the blonde boy, she gave him a small appreciative smile. “Yeah, that’d be nice.” Brynn simply replied, treading the waters cautiously and following Sean inside.

Marshall’s soul was slowly, very slowly, returning to his body. What the fuck just happened? Why did the back of his head hurt? Whose arm was around his waist? He glanced to the source of his hand and gasped. Angry kid that yelled at him for gawking in the limo — the same one who just saved him from being literally murdered — had his arm around his waist? What the fuck just happened? “Uh… er… yeah, okay.” he stammered uncharacteristically. He felt like he’d be able to walk on his own just fine, but he wasn’t about to admit that.

Whilst the rest of the group headed inside, Selena felt herself being pulled aside by none other than Hailey Green-Locke. Her predecessor. Queen Regent of Beverly Hills High. “Wow, listen, I had no idea that Sean would do that. But… it worked out pretty well?”

Hailey shrugged her shoulders, kissing Selena on the cheek. “I don’t care. It worked, and frankly that’s what’s important. Thank him and that Joy girl for me, when you get a chance. I, on the other hand, am going home. My work here is done, and I don’t much care for parties… I despise interacting with people I’ll send a car to fetch you all when you call. Have a wonderful evening, Selena, you’ve earned it. Drink, smoke, loosen up. Relax. Help your brother re-adjust to normal life. I’ve heard about the Academy he was at, and from what I understand, it’s almost culture shock to come back.” Hailey smiled regally, and kissed her cheek again, before turning to leave.

Selena stared after the queen bee as she turned to leave. Her work here is done? What did that mean? The blonde stood there in thought, before deciding that it was probably in her best interest to not try to understand the workings of Hailey’s mind. If you gaze long enough into the abyss, the abyss gazes back into you — or something like that. “Thanks, Hails. I’ll talk to you later.” Selena called out before turning to walk inside and, most importantly, to find her cousin.

After everyone marched in, ideally enjoying the rest of the night, Joy looked up at her brother and smiled, “You know, maybe you need to dick someone to feel better? Mitty says it’s a good stress reliever.” Quickly, she patted her brother’s back and stuck out her tongue, “Daddums says you’re taking me home after this. Love you.” And with that, the oblivious nerd pranced inside to find her childhood friend and host of the night.

Quincy shoved her way through groups of students and out onto the patio of the beach house, taking in a deep, almost desperate, breath. She hadn’t realized how hot it had been inside, or how out of breath she’d been. She drank in the cool, winter air that wafted off of the ocean. Looking up, she saw the moon beaming down onto the rest of the party, which had gathered around the stage and the bonfire. She was almost so caught up in the beauty, that she forgot her mission. A Double!

Quincy charged forward, towards the edge of the beach, stumbling through the sand towards a sand throne that could only belong to A Double. Who else came to a party only to build sand castles? After what felt like years, she reached the throne, and grinned at A Double. ”Can I, uh, can I sit here?” she asked, panting from her trek. Q was normally a calm, collected person, but tonight, vodka was in charge, and he was steering her towards A Double, with no brakes in sight.

One of the very few voices in the world that could have dragged him peacefully from his tranquilo mindset flooded into his ears, and A Double turned his attention to Quincy, smiling brightly at his best friend, though he rather suddenly sat up and squinted at her when he realized how out of breath she seemed to be. “Hey, are you okay? And, uhm… give me a second! This isn’t really made to fit, well… more than one A Double… I can make it bigger though! Can you hand me my shovel?”

Quincy laughed. A loud, joyful laugh, the kind that didn’t scare birds away, but instead invited them to hang out and smoke a joint. ”Of cooooourse I’m okay, A Dub. Of course. Of course. That is a very funny phrase. It sounds fake,” Quincy said, giggling. She ignored A Doubles request for a shovel, sighing and falling into his lap, giggling. She looked up straight into his eyes, really brown eyes, and grinned. ”Hi. You have pretty eyes,” she said, grinning wildly.

YIKES.

A Double was not sure exactly how to react to this situation, and he could feel an old villain creeping back up into throat. Oh, man, not now. He stared at Quincy for a few seconds that felt like an eternity, giving her a very long look into his eyes as he listened to her giggle. He’d never heard her giggle like that before! It was different!? Cute. Cute is the word you’re looking for, Mr. Bishop. Oh man, here we go. He had to say something or he’d look like a damn fool.

“T-th-thanks. I-I-I grew them mys-s-s-self.” He hadn’t STUTTERED in FOREVER. He’d worked really hard with a talking doctor to fix that! It came back sometimes though… only when he got really nervous. BUT SHE WAS SITTING ON TOP OF HIM. A Double’s normal color in his cheeks faded, and was soon replaced with the bright red of a blush. Now she’d think he was retarded. Dang.

Quincy’s eyes widened as A Double stuttered. She’d had no idea A Double even had a stutter. She couldn’t help but burst out giggling. ”That was so cute!” Q said in between gasping breaths. When she finally fell silent she leaned her head into his chest, smiling, before looking back up into his eyes. ”I think I’m drunk. And I think I’m in love with you,” she said, the gravity of her words completely lost on her.

DOUBLE YIKES.

Love!? A Double barely knew what love meant! She couldn’t just say things like that, and get all snuggly up to him! This was madness, this was confusion, this was so many things he’d never felt before. He’d spent the last twenty minutes building a throne of sand, for God’s sake. “T-t-t-th-that’s… g-g-good?” A Double offered carefully, feeling himself stutter and stumble over his words even more. “I-I-I-I think-k-k-k-k you’re drunk-k-k too.”

Quincy grinned and sat up straight, then leaned in until their foreheads were touching. ”A Double, you talk too much.” And then she went for it. She lightly pressed her lips to his, interlocking them, gently at first, and then with more force as she brought her hands up into A Double’s hair, exploring every dark strand there was to explore.

TRIPLE YIKES.

Is this what kissing was? A Double had never been kissed before! Why was she pulling his hair? Why did her lip gloss taste like cherries? Why didn’t anyone prepare him for this?! This was wild. This was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before in his entire life, and to be honest… he was into it. Way into it. Was all kissing like this, or was it just because Q was special to him!? He didn’t know. But what he did know was that he was leaning into it, pretty heavily.

Quincy Hart was fully aware of three things at that moment. One, was that she was currently straddling her best friend and tonguing him down at the same time. Two, was that he tasted like weed and peanuts, a taste that she was certain she’d never be able to forget. And three was that she was very, very, into it. So into it that she began to move her hips, as you do. The downside to this was that Quincy was drunk, and her movements were a bit more exaggerated than she’d planned, and her knee accidentally knocked A Double’s bong out of its BongHolder™, right onto the beach.

A Double was in the most sexually charged situation in his entire life, but unfortunately it had to end. He saw his bong falling out of his peripheral vision, and like any good stoner, he did the only rational thing: dive for it. And dive he did, taking Q with him, over the edge of the sand throne, and careening down to the sand. Now, A Double caught James Bong. James Bong, 00420, the reason A Double was tranquilo all the time… he was safe. But, the moment? The moment was gone. And rather than say anything, A Double just laid on his back, holding the bong into the air above him, some of the water sloshing out to the sand while he stared up at the night sky.

It had happened and now it was over. Q lifted a hand to her lips, as if she needed to make sure they were still there. They brushed across the surface gently, confirming their continued placement on her face. As she stared up into the sky, she came to realize how unlikely this series of events was, and exactly how perfect it was. If her mom and dad hadn’t met she would’ve never been born and then if her dad hadn’t died she never would’ve tried to ruin Hailey’s reputation and then she never would’ve become friends with A Double and she’d never have the best make out session of her life. Wow

A Double remained silent as Q checked on herself. He slowly brought James Bong down, sitting him carefully by his head. A Double was suddenly made very aware of a simple fact: he was hungry. Even though he’d eaten peanuts all day, and had stuffed almost a whole bag of chips into his mouth… he was real hungry. Honestly, he had a craving. It wasn’t his fault! He’d had it for a while now. He turned his head to look over at Q. “...hey, Q?”

Q turned her head slowly so she was looking over at A Double. ”Yes, A Dub?”

There were a few more seconds of silence.

“Do you wanna get some McDonald’s?”

Q mulled over the question for a moment.

”Yeah, sure.”

Before Riley Wells would start the playlist of seizure music, he tapped onto the flat screen in the living room to play a requested song: Follow You by Bring Me The Horizon. A nice, slow beat so the cool kids could mingle and drink. He had been lurking in the area even before the guests started arriving, since his brother, Trevor, was his ride and his fathers practically forced him to come out and ‘have fun’. He wasn’t necessarily happy about being here. A party that would undoubtedly lead to drama that no one would shut up about in the next couple of weeks.

Yeah, fantastic.

His hair was untamable and unruly. He wasn’t one to impress unless he actually cared about the place he was going to. Oddly enough, it added to his allure. Riley wasn’t like most of the other guys. To the naked eye, he was a total enigma. Everyone knew his name. His face. His voice. But no one knew much about him besides the fact that he was ‘Trevor’s brother’.

Boys bottle their anger until it explodes. Tense up at the fact of not being the best or getting what they want. Riley though? He’s learned over the years to let the stress roll right off him, instead of allowing it to control his every action and move. He almost belonged, but not really. Like some of the others, he had jeans on and a plain tee (black was his preferred color of choice). But what made it more him than anyone else was his dark combat boots and a gray denim-esque jacket. Not suitable for a beach, at all. He stood to the side, holding a red cup of some unknown substance given to him by the cute foreign exchange student behind the bar. This was his… sixth drink of the night?

What? He had to put up with all this noise and tolerate a bunch of teens at his school making bad decisions and seeking kisses at midnight. Alcohol helped him handle this - though, he didn’t drink often. With his stand-offish quality, it was almost inviting, but of course, Riley was a professional at being ‘unseen’ until he wanted to be seen.

That is, until alcohol was in his system. Grabbing the mic by the screen, he lowered the volume of the music as he looked at his brother by the kegs near the bar. Man, Trevor was near a sweet looking redhead. Lucky dog that motha’ fucker. Getter in, baby!

Giving a charming, nonchalant smile, he woke the place up by being the good ol’ announcer that he was, “BEVERLY HILLS HIGH! You guys enjoying yourself?! Welcome to the greatest party of the year. Give props to the Elite for really outdoing themselves. Damian, my man.” Rye scanned the crowd to find El Jefe with another cute redhead. Damn, redheads are all over this biznatch. “Your parents’ place is tight. Thanks for having us!” He gave a prideful bro-nod, before going back to hyping the fuck out of the crowd. His persona was drastically different than his everyday self. “I hope you’re considering who you’re gonna’ plant a good one tonight because there’s approximately 3 hours and 30 minutes to go. Now I got one last thing before I take a piss.”

Pointing his free hand toward his brother, Rye gave a kiddish grin, “To the redhead beside my brother. You’re totally my brother’s type. GET HIM WHILE HE’S GOOD.” And with that Rye placed the mic back on the stand, gave Savannah a wink from the distance, brought the volume back up, and walked off. He didn’t get too far when a boy with bloodshot eyes came into his peripheral vision completely dazed and not aware of his surroundings. I know that kid… With prominent strides, the mysterious, dark haired boy approached the shaggy haired boy that reminded him of a cute puppy. He was the prep kid, if he wasn’t mistaken. Waving in front of Jamie’s face for his attention, Riley offered, with genuine concern in his expression, “Jamie, you alright? Here. Let’s get you some water and maybe something to eat.”

Jamie had stumbled into an entirely new battleground inside the beach house. The music was blasting, shredding his eardrums, and his brain was not having it. The flashing lights, the moving bodies, and the smell of alcohol were intensified. His nerves were lit up like the night sky, flaring at the lightest touch. He was, as the cool kids said, baked like a cake.

When Rye popped into his field of view, he was startled, taking a step back and tensing up. It took him a moment to process who it was, but when he did, he loosened. ”Oh my fuck! Riley, I am so baked right now! I have never been this high!” Jamie shouted over the noise of the party. He liked Riley, he was fun, and always treated him nice. Not to mention, in that moment, he was offering water, and that was certainly a necessity. ”Water would be fucking amazing, please and thank you!”

“Hey, if you’re going to get high, or drunk, or all of the above, might as well be tonight.” Since this place was crowded, Riley took it upon himself to direct Jamie, by putting his arm around his back, and walking into the depths of the party. First they had to go into the sweaty crowd and through the dance floor. Luckily the song was slow, and the only thing they’d have to maneuver around was slow dancers and people making out (already). Someone did end up bumping into them, not paying attention to where they were going, and Riley responded by bringing Jamie closer to him in a rather protective manner. In time, they did make it to the snack station. Safe and sound.

Releasing the petite prep, Riley placed his cup down and got his friend a bottle of water. Everyone was his friend at this school, especially since he didn’t strictly hang out with one group of people. “Riley at your service. Now let me guess. You got high off of an edible?” For some reason, Riley couldn’t imagine Jamie smoking a bong or even passing a blunt around. But also, edibles crept up on you when you least expect it. Jamie did not look prepared. Process of elimination - and well, assumption.

Jamie took the bottle of water and took a long swig, gasping for air when he put it down. ”I know this sounds crazy, but Hailey Green drugged me. She gave me a fucking cupcake, and it had to be laced, but it was soooooo good. I mean, she’s a bitch, but she’s a bitch who can bake,” Jamie said, obnoxiously and with very little regard for what other people thought of him.

”And Rye, it is a miracle that we got in here, because Owen very nearly killed Marshall, but Selena’s secret twin brother kissed him, and stopped it. That sounds fake I know, but it’s real, I watched it happen.” Jamie sat there and his mind began to wander, and as it did, his mouth began to pull up into a shiteating grin, pure and unadulterated happiness. ”Riley, you are a very good person. I like you. Not like I “like” Trixie. But like as in, you don’t suck.”

This… was a lot to take in and Riley was drunk. He didn’t know how much… but he knew he was over tipsy. Jamie’s face was not staying still. Okay. As wild as all this sounded, this was Beverly Hills. Anything could happen. Owen could kill someone. There was no doubt in his mind about that one. And Hailey was shady so he could believe she’d drug someone if it benefited her in the long run. “You’ve…” Riley chose his words carefully. “... had an eventful night. I’m curious though.” Riley grabbed a handful of chips off the table and started munching on it, all the while never looking away from the stoned kid, “Why bother? Like, why hang out with people that seem to get you into messes, drug you even, people you don’t even like?” Munch.

Jamie thought for a moment. Well, it felt like hours to Jamie, but it was really only a moment. “I guess, it’s all because, well...I want the paper. I guess that’s where it starts. If I get the paper, I can maybe score the class president spot next year, and with those two things on my applications, I’ll look great to colleges. But also, it’s kind of...fun. These people, the Candies and HOT, they make you feel so special. Like being around them is being a god. It’s intoxicating.”

The sandy haired boy couldn’t help the word vomit that came out of his mouth, the truth that obnoxiously flowed forth like a river that had finally been undammed. ”Not to mention, Marshall hangs out with them. And Marshall’s cute. And when you like boys at this school, you have to put in work,” Jamie said, grinning. ”You should like boys Riley. It’s fun.”

Ha. “I’ve never considered it.” Riley lied. “I’ll keep that in mind though…. next time I date or something. Hey, can I see your phone?” Laying out his hand, the student radio personnel waited for Jamie’s response before continuing.

Jamie grinned and reached into his pocket, fishing out his phone and placing it into Riley’s outstretched hand. ”Here you go, friendo!”

Glancing up at Jamie’s gaze and then down at the phone, Riley went to the contacts and put his name and number in it, “I don’t give many people my number, but, if you get in any messes tonight, or any night for that matter. Don’t hesitate to call me. I’m cutting myself off to make sure my brother doesn’t get that redhead pregnant. Not like he would, but you know. Priorities. The john is calling me, don’t stop drinking that water, okay?” Rye gave Jamie his phone back.

Jamie smiled and took the phone back. ”Thanks Riley. I might not remember this, but I love you for it. Now, have fun with John, I’m sure he’s great!” Jamie said, stumbling off and into the party, to get into God knows what kind of trouble.

“ONE LAST THING!” Riley called out to the boy already on a mission to get into what he would assume another mess. “Be careful when you’re around the popular kids. You don’t need to be like them to shine. You’re pretty cool and I like that.”

Riley paused for a moment before saluting with his pointer and middle finger, “The person that you are, I mean.” And with that, Riley walked off in a different direction, in search for john, the bathroom.