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Ava Kelly's Halloween party is at her parents' huge loft apartment in the shadow of the Williamsburg Bridge

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Ava Kelly's Halloween party is at her parents' huge loft apartment in the shadow of the Williamsburg Bridge. It's ten blocks, so Oscar convinces me to walk, because it's the Saturday night before Halloween so literally no one looks at you strange if you're wearing a costume on the street.

The weather's in the 60s but I don't have a 1920s-style jacket or coat to wear with my outfit so I just decide to tough it out for ten blocks. The walk helps me clear my head a bit, and I realise how much of a child I was acting before. I don't know why I get so emotional about things, but I need to sort it out. I'm going to write a list. How To Be More Mature, 2020.

When we ride the elevator to the penthouse apartment, we find Ava's party in full swing. No one bats an eyelid at Oscar's messy appearance - assuming he must be in a costume - and we're given cherry liqueur shots at the door, which helps to clear my head even more.

"So who's here that you can talk to?" Oscar asks, once we're done admiring the insane view of the bridge from the eight-foot-tall windows in the living room.

The huge living room is packed with people and lit only by glowing orange pumpkin lanterns, but I recognise most of the faces, except the ones with masks. Ava Kelly's group are the musical theatre girls, who are an inseparably tight-knit group that I have no chance of getting into.

Our school doesn't really have cliques like the movies, but there are a few set groups, and a few tiers of popularity. I know I have no chance of being friends with any of the top-tier girls, like Grace Hero's group. I can see them over by the punch bowl, pouring themselves drinks. I can't see Gracie amongst them, but I assume she must be here somewhere.

The middle and lower tiers of popularity are way more likely to accept me. I try to look around the room for any of the girls on my list, or anyone that I feel like I could talk to. But everyone seems so comfortable in groups, chatting with their friends. I can't see anyone that looks open to talking to me.

"There's Liam and Gracie. You wanna say hi to them?" Oscar asks me.

I follow his line of sight, to the kitchen where Liam is pouring vodka into a red plastic cup. Gracie doesn't seem to be wearing a costume. Her hair looks nice, but she's just wearing a regular black dress and black wedges. Liam seems to be wearing some kind of skin-tight shiny suit with gold shoulder pads.

"Nope," I say.

"Well, Liam's the only one I know here, so I'm gonna say hi. You can stay here if you want," Oscar says, and he weaves through a group of girls dancing in the middle of the living room, to make it to the kitchen.

I loiter next to the huge windows, wondering whether I should just stand awkwardly here and hope that someone takes pity on me and talks to me, but then I lose my nerve and follow Oscar.

"A red wig for a red fox," Oscar is saying, admiring Liam's bright orange-red mullet.

"Hi, Alina."

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