3: Because Parties Are Fun

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I sat in a prison cell, handcuffs searing my wrists.

 The cell was cold and lifeless, and I nearly felt part of it, even though I was alive and burning with burning vexation.

Lexi sat beside me, staring at her hands, which were cuffed as well. Noah sat on my right, hopelessly attempting to break free of his cuffs. Despite the arms and his unreasonable strength, he wasn't Superman, and the rest of us weren't leaving anytime soon.

"You can say it." Lexi muttered, resting her head against the dirty walls.

 I shook my head, clasping my hands together.

"Don't taunt us, Dan." She grunted. Forever her accomplice, Noah nodded, shrugging feebly towards me.

"We know it's all our fault," he muttered. I shook my head once again.

"Just say it." Lexi barked. I sighed.

 "I told you so."

Before I can even begin to continue, let me just rewind a tad so you clearly confused people may have a chance to be enlightened.


*


I didn't want to go.

 Believe me, I didn't.

I valiantly attempted every single thing that would prevent me from attending that god-forsaken party...but thanks to my persistent friends, I was dragged towards that house along with them.

Soon enough, Noah, Lexi and I stood outside Noah's bright yellow jeep, staring at the already raging party in front of us.

 Red plastic cups were all over the lawn, shadows of fast moving figures danced inside the house, and excited screams could probably be heard from miles away.

"I have a bad feeling about this," I muttered. As much as I despised being the spoil-sport, my instincts were running wild, and had warned me in advance that this party would be the start of something none of us would particularly like.

     And, as I've already said, my instincts are always right.

 "Shut up, Dan." Lexi grunted, rolling her eyes. "It's just a party."

All our feet remained glued to the sidewalk. The three musketeers, standing at the walls of their enemy's home. 

"What's the worst that could happen?" Noah said, quietly. From the grunt that left Lexi, his feeble attempt at lightening the mood didn't work out. Nor did it go unnoticed.

"Let me make a list," I told him, grabbing the pen I always kept in every pair of pants I own. I stretched my hand, gently placing the ball of the pen on my palm. "We could get alcohol poisoning, somehow consume a spiked drink, have a creepy and wasted teenager unknowingly hump us to sickness, or –"

 "It was a rhetorical question, Dan." He snapped. I continued to list things on my hand, planning to tick each one off if we managed to avoid that certain situation.

"You know very well that nothing is rhetorical to me, Noah." I cooed, still writing my lengthy list in my smallest and tidiest handwriting, which wasn't very neat to begin with. "You ask questions because you want to know the answer. That's my philosophy."

 I could literally feel the Kensington twins roll their eyes.

They genuinely hated my love for philosophy, and the fact that I could counter anything they said.

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